Unequivocal Movie Rec: "The Secret World of Arrietty"
I am so pleased that I had to chance to see this movie in theaters, even with the annoying English dubbing and the insipid songs that Disney found it necessary to add. The artwork and storytelling were so beautiful and detailed that any inconsistencies in the plot didn't matter. I just wanted to see more, more of the gorgeous scenes and all of their wonderful, little touches, 90% of which I am certain that I missed. One nagging thing that I did find strange was the dub script's decision to whitewash as much of the script as possible. To me, this was an inherently Japanese movie, from the very opening shot of the city to the sound of the omnipresent cicada chorus. So, why rename almost all the characters with bland English names, except for the villain? It made little sense.
Fortunately, the good of this story far outweighed the annoying side problems. Arrietty and her family (mother, worrywart Homily and father, steadfast Pod) were lovingly drawn and animated characters. One of Miyazaki's recurring themes is the family that survives troubles together, stays together, and this was a strong element of the plot throughout. Their home beneath the floorboards of the house was beautifully decorated, far better than the dollhouse awaiting them in the child's room; one of the stamps on the wall that they used for decoration was a stamp that I sent while I lived in Japan, and the chess piece (a knight) as foyer artwork was a brilliant touch. The detail with water and how it would work for small people was also cleverly done--the Borrowers' water doesn't pour, but drips from faucets and teapots in tiny beads. I want to watch the whole thing again, just to see their little home in all of its collected glory.
I also liked the movie's willingness to play with a sense of scale. Kitchen table legs suddenly became mountain ranges that Pod needed double-stick tape to scale, and the refrigerator did double duty as a monolith of epic proportions. Really, though, scale is what this movie is all about: all the characters' senses of right and wrong were different from one another's, and it was from these differences that the major conflicts sprang. The human boy, for example, thinks he's doing the Borrowers a kindness by giving them the dollhouse's kitchen; however, he never stopped to consider the scale of his actions, which were on the apocalyptic side, from the Borrower's point of view (can you imagine the roof of your house being ripped off by a gigantic hand?). Arrietty senses that it's not right to just abandon her new friend, but talking to humans--being seen--is off the scale of wrong, according to her parents' experience and lore. And the afore-mentioned villain's sense of proportion is so out-of-kilter that she's willing to give up everything just to be proven right. This was a fairly serious movie, and I was a little surprised at how much was at stake, from the get-go. Arrietty escapes from the cat as if it's nothing, but the cat is monstrously huge, and it has a good memory. Her existence, and her parents', is touch and go. It's not surprising that they think themselves the last of the Borrowers in the whole world. All seriousness aside, though, this is a wonderful movie, one that I think families will all enjoy on different levels. And what a great achievement that is, especially given the trailers of supposedly kid-friendly movies we had to sit through first.
Fortunately, the good of this story far outweighed the annoying side problems. Arrietty and her family (mother, worrywart Homily and father, steadfast Pod) were lovingly drawn and animated characters. One of Miyazaki's recurring themes is the family that survives troubles together, stays together, and this was a strong element of the plot throughout. Their home beneath the floorboards of the house was beautifully decorated, far better than the dollhouse awaiting them in the child's room; one of the stamps on the wall that they used for decoration was a stamp that I sent while I lived in Japan, and the chess piece (a knight) as foyer artwork was a brilliant touch. The detail with water and how it would work for small people was also cleverly done--the Borrowers' water doesn't pour, but drips from faucets and teapots in tiny beads. I want to watch the whole thing again, just to see their little home in all of its collected glory.
I also liked the movie's willingness to play with a sense of scale. Kitchen table legs suddenly became mountain ranges that Pod needed double-stick tape to scale, and the refrigerator did double duty as a monolith of epic proportions. Really, though, scale is what this movie is all about: all the characters' senses of right and wrong were different from one another's, and it was from these differences that the major conflicts sprang. The human boy, for example, thinks he's doing the Borrowers a kindness by giving them the dollhouse's kitchen; however, he never stopped to consider the scale of his actions, which were on the apocalyptic side, from the Borrower's point of view (can you imagine the roof of your house being ripped off by a gigantic hand?). Arrietty senses that it's not right to just abandon her new friend, but talking to humans--being seen--is off the scale of wrong, according to her parents' experience and lore. And the afore-mentioned villain's sense of proportion is so out-of-kilter that she's willing to give up everything just to be proven right. This was a fairly serious movie, and I was a little surprised at how much was at stake, from the get-go. Arrietty escapes from the cat as if it's nothing, but the cat is monstrously huge, and it has a good memory. Her existence, and her parents', is touch and go. It's not surprising that they think themselves the last of the Borrowers in the whole world. All seriousness aside, though, this is a wonderful movie, one that I think families will all enjoy on different levels. And what a great achievement that is, especially given the trailers of supposedly kid-friendly movies we had to sit through first.