Directed by: Hayao Miyazaki
Country of origin: Japan
Music by: Joe Hisaishi
The school year is over. The summer of films has begun. After a long absence from blogging, leave it to a Miyazaki gem to wet my mouth once again. I have shouted Miyazaki praise far and wide, but believe it or not, I had never seen the film that sparked the legendary career. I had seen dozens of stills and famous screenshots like the one above. Viewed snippets, heard exerts of Hisaishi's score, but never actually sat down and watched the movie. It had been sitting untouched inside my external hard-drive for almost two years. It was time I changed that. All the thoughts that this film was "too naive" or not as intellectually intriguing than his later works couldn't be farther from the truth. My Neighbor Totoro is just as compelling and soothingly engrossing as any other film Miyazaki has ever graced us with. Made in the late eighties, the context has richened with age. These same elements of curiosity and bravery mixed concurrently with Japanese cultural undertones make you want and even need to be in this world. Miyazaki communicates to his viewer from the point of view of the child, whereas so many mature thematic elements are lingering within the story, yet never solidified. Like any Miyazaki film, there's just so much behind every scene, every shot, every second of detailed animation. Crafting such a specific tone is something no one else could ever do. Watching Totoro was refreshing, simple as that. It made me eager for more of the undeniable East Asian culture that is embedded within every Miyazaki film. It left me speechless, and wondering why I had never taking two hours out of my life to watch it. It was the perfect "welcome back" I could have received. It's going to be a great summer.
Following are some of the most important scenes from the most important films in East Asian cinema. These scenes have, in some cases, single-handedly had their influences on the cinematic language. Some establish a style or technique, others have simply become responsible for helping to cement their filmmaker's name into history. Famous or not, these scenes have left their mark on the medium and the millions of viewers that have witnessed them. As a filmmaker, a few of them in particular are some of the most beautiful and inspiring I've ever seen. Enjoy
1. JOURNEY TO THE WEST
I'm starting off with a scene from one of the first Asian films I was ever exposed to, Miyazaki's Princess Mononoke. A fan favorite, Mononoke is up there with Spirited Away in terms of the filmmaker's signature works. In this more mature film, Miyazaki took advantage of exploring more mature themes and showed audiences that he was capable of crafting a moving, beautiful story geared toward adults. Mononoke is stunning in its animation, and in this pivotal scene near the film's beginning, Miyazaki seems to boast the lengths of his talent and shows us the sheer depth of the capabilities that he possesses. From an animation standpoint, this is one of the most important scenes in the master's illustrious career. Up to this point, the viewer had been introduced to some typical feudal Japanese villagers and a somewhat overblown, giant black pig demon. The film feels somewhat typical of Japanese anime up to this point. But it is in this scene, "Journey to the West", that Miyazaki's film begins to break away from the rest. Hisaishi's score, one of the best in cinematic history (in my opinion) gives the scene a certain weight that helps us understand and empathize with Ashitaka. Every shot is calculated. The sweeping vastness of the landscapes down to the detailed glimmering of the water. Mononoke is not exactly a recent film, released in 1997. Techniques in computer and hand-drawn animation have advanced since then, yet we are still able to watch this film and be amazed. This scene proves why Princess Mononoke is a pivotal milestone in modern animation.
2. FAREWELL
Ang Lee moved millions with the neutral ending of his masterpiece Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, leaving many in wonder and others in tears. What he did with this scene was to help establish a new strategy of conclusion, in other words, trailblazing a very new way of ending a film. American audiences had seldom been exposed to this type of ending, where what happened is not completely drawn out for them. Yet, with this lack of concrete evidence (if you will) came this incredible feeling of satisfaction. We don't exactly know what happened to Shiao Long; she could have died, or the story of the old man could have been true. But the tie-in, the bring-around of that story at the films end, is so satisfying that it almost seems to not matter. This is an ending where the viewer itself is meant to make the final decision, and I believe it tells a lot about a person in terms of how they interpret this ending. Setting the element of the unknown aside, the scene is visually stunning, and the classical fluidity as well as the subtle crossfades conclude the film perfectly. With the slow, soothing tunes of Tan Dun and Yo Yo Ma, the viewer almost floats along with Shiao Long into the unknown. It is an incredibly moving and influential scene, and helped revive the presence of Asian cinema in the Western side of the world.
3. PAINTERS
This borderline surrealist scene from Takeshi Kitano's Hana-bi is one of the key elements that helped to establish him as Japan's modern auteur and the heir to Akira Kurosawa. The scene captures Kitano's motives and his mindset outstandingly, taking time to dwell on mysterious, thought-provoking visuals, drawing parallels of extremes between characters, and really (abruptly) diving deep into the mind of his viewer, all with the comfort of a moving Hisaishi score. The scene and the film are very personal to Kitano, documenting fictionally a period in his own life where suicide and painting were prevalent thoughts. This scene may seem confusing by itself, but it is absolutely pivotal to the film's significance, commencing the symbolism between so many of the films motifs, like flowers, gunshots, and the human eye. The scene has an immense presence of experimental ideals, and its the alienating sense that this montage provokes that houses the film's true meaning. I think of it as the heart of the film, and the origin of its many layers of meaning. Mesmerizing scene.
4. FALL OF THE POPCORN
Likewise, this scene from Korean blockbuster Welcome to Dongmakgol is the center of the film's narrative significance. On the outside, the film is just a typical war comedy with a varying tonal color and many moving moments. It's Korean New Wave melodrama at its best. But underneath lies so much subliminal meaning, and in a country where critiquing the tyrant to their north is so dangerous, it's easy to understand why the message is so subtle. It's a lot that I won't get into, but more or less what happens in the scene is a direct result of the mindless violence butting heads with the innocent denial. A grenade, a symbol of the murder and violence that these warring men impose upon the innocent town of Dongmakgol, explodes inside the town's food supply shed. But while this is a true travesty for the villagers, the ordeal just becomes another instance of curious beauty as the popped corn float down upon the village like snow. Instead of crying, they dance and laugh and grasp the moment, and the warring soldiers are lulled to sleep. This ceasing of unnecessary violence, this realization of the beauty surrounding you seems to be a motive that countless Korean films take on, and is noble enough to be called the alternative for what the situation in Korea should be like today. The scene says a great deal about war and the division of brothers, and it turns a new page within the film (afterward the North and South soldiers begin to respect each other. And with a moving Hisaishi score, you can't go wrong. Very moving scene.
5.THE SIXTH STATION
I saved the best for last... This is my favorite scene in cinematic history, bar none. It has influenced and moved me in ways that I cannot verbally express. It is one of, if not the most renowned scene Miyazaki has ever produced. It is one of the most important scenes in the history of animation, simply from a narrative perspective. If I can use one word to help me describe this scene, it would, again, have to be depth. Here we are, absolutely engrossed in this eerily beautiful world that Miyazaki has created for us, consisting solely of the bathhouse and its grounds. Despite the immense size of this building, and the variety of situations that Chihiro encounters inside of it, there is a certain sense of claustrophobia that is created. We feel stuck here with her, with nowhere to run. But then she gets on this train that seems to float on water and an entire world is revealed to us.The amount of elements in this scene that make is so fantastic is uncanny. Every shot reveals a story that could be told. We see villages in the distance, bright neon signs that suggest a city. Miyazaki just slightly hints at the existence of these things, and we do all we can to pounce on them. But the train keeps going, and these beautiful landscapes and locales that we see appear suddenly disappear, never to be seen again. Miyazaki could make entire films based on the ideas represented in this scene, alone. A sense of maturity wafts in and the tone becomes so contemplative and reflective as Joe Hisaishi's absolutely intoxicating melody pushes the train softly on. The floating village. The house on the island. The little girl at the train station. Who are these people? What's happened to them? Who lives there? These are all burning questions, ones we need to be answered. But they never are. It's truly a rollercoaster of emotions watching the stunning movement of this scene unfold. I have never been engrossed by anything so much in my life. This scene has changed my life, I can honestly say it... It seems to mean something different for everyone. To me, this is Miyazaki's imagining of the afterlife, of the new life we live in after this one has passed. It is quiet, and it is beautiful. These floating paradises and endless seas seem to beckon to the viewers. Miyazaki has created a sequence of images that truly transport us. The vastness of this spirit world is shown to us, but only in brief glimpses. It's a place I wish I could revisit again, perhaps maybe one day, in a dream. This is Miyazaki's most accomplished scene, and holds an unfathomable amount of untapped potential and significance. Crossing my fingers he revisits it...
When someone from anywhere around the world thinks of cinema, they think of Hollywood. Of a medium of art and entertainment dominated by an established American system. Undeniably, Hollywood has influenced the world with its movies. They are creators of memories. Escapes to more admirable worlds. And by sitting in a dark room, in front of a bright screen, millions of viewers are touched by these films every day. But it didn't all start in the west. Like all American things, cinema would not be what it is today without influence from the eastern hemispheres. Europe reigned as the renaissance center of cinema for decades before D.W. Griffith and the United Artists birthed the Hollywood spark in 1910. French artists Georges Melies and the Lumiere Bros. were pioneers with their discovery of the first projector and their experimentation with camera techniques, respectively. Through history, works of western European filmmakers, old and new, are often accredited solely to the development and growth of American cinema. However, an artistic influence farther to the east is commonly overlooked.
Hayao Miyazaki'sPrincess Mononoke
Quietly, as they have through the world's history, the artists of Eastern Asia were crafting the first examples of cinema far before the Europeans even painted a portrait. Evidence dating back to as early as 500 BCE shows that Chinese philosopher Mo Di (墨翟) had invented a device in which an "inverted light from the outside world" beamed through a "small hole in the opposite wall in a darkened room". This early version of a modern day zoopraxiscope (an early projection device) predates Muybridge's original by nearly 2500 years. This fact appropriately sums up what Asia has been doing with it's art for thousands of years: beating us to the chase. East Asian cinema has a rich history, its existence originating almost simultaneously with America's, it's legacy continuing to prosper today. Auteurs like Kurosawa and Ozu lead the way as the Asian filmmakers employed filmmaking styles and techniques that Westerners would not discover for years. Much of China, Japan, and Korea remained untouched by Western influence until the mid- 20th century, leaving their culture and their cinematic style immune to the rapidly changing society of the American film scene. Although they eventually fell behind in terms of the latest technology and equipment, their techniques multiplied and their style was established. Effectively, East Asian cinema had branched out from its Western counterparts, serving as a wave of overwhelming inspiration to today's most successful directors and cinematographers. My mission in this forum is to surf that wave.
Kim Ki-duk'sSpring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring
Like so many before me, I happened across a random film and was blown away by it. Exactly two years ago today, I was laying on a leather couch in my Grandma's South Carolina condo, only the light from my dirty Macbook screen lighting the room. I was in the middle of a horror movie binge, going through flicks new and old that had a fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Unenthusiastically, I popped in a movie about a mutated fish monster that liked to swallow people along some river in South Korea. Little did I know that this movie would change me. I was moved. It was so much more than some half-assed horror movie. It was a film that combined horror, comedy, and melodrama. A film that evoked an array of corresponding emotions. The picture was crystal, the tone was dark, my eyes were wide. It was Bong Joon-ho'sThe Host (괴물 ), and it was the first film of the Korean New Wave that I'd ever seen. Sure, looking back perhaps The Host isn't the best film ever compiled, but it packed a punch and exposed me to a style of filmmaking I'd never experienced before. I was hooked, and I wanted more. It would be the catalyst of quite the streak...
Bong Joon-ho'sThe Host
In this blog forum, I'll record my findings, my opinions about the best films, new and old, from the East Asian masters. Their cinema relies on revealing the beauty that simplicity evokes, an element of the Asian life style that spans their existence. This meditative tone, focusing on the beauty of the world and the life within it, has been such an immensely inspiring force to me as a student and as a filmmaker. Silence. Simplicity. Beauty. Viewing works from all the masters in Korea, Taiwan, Japan, and China, I'll go on a mission to grasp this state of mind and to understand it. I'll tell you what I think, what I saw, and what I now see. Join me on this journey of Asian cinema's past and future .
