"Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind" Review

             How should you describe Miyazaki Hayao’s anime Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (風の谷のナウシカ)?  Would you focus on its post-apocalyptic world of medieval science fiction, combining knights, planes, swords, rifles, gunships, bioorganic titans, and giant insect guardians?  Would you talk about the stunning artistry and whether or not it is appropriate for the story’s somber undertones? Or should you discuss the film’s themes of environmentalism, anti-war, and humanity’s propensity for self-destruction?  NVW combines all these forming a surprisingly cohesive narrative that is fun to watch for people of all ages.  It is a creative film with stunning artistry and serious ideas developed through the presence of titanic Giant Warriors and the enigmatic Ohm, trilobite-guardians of nature’s renewal and judgments of humanity.  I will particularly focus on these aspects, given that they are central to what I consider the film’s chief meaning and primary concerns.  This will be based on the subbed translation of the re-mastered Japanese release.

NVW takes place after an apocalyptic cataclysm reduced most of the earth’s surface to a vast desert.  Though the specifics of this Armageddon are never explained, it’s heavily implied that humanity was a victim of its destructive, even suicidal disposition.  Embroiled by un-paralleled warfare and destruction, the Old World, as it’s called, was ravaged by creation and unleashing of Giant Warriors (or God Warriors, depending on the translation), weaponized bioorganic titans leaving in their wake a firestorm of death and global devastation.  But these events have now long settled into historic lore and mythic allegory - As such the characters of NVW treat them as powerfully ancient legends that were once all too real. 

This is exemplary of several of the film’s greatest strengths.  In treating the Giant Warriors with a sense of dread, awe, and power, their presence onscreen is overwhelming despite that they are only shown for only two or three minutes.  Part of what makes their short time so effective is the restraint Miyazaki used when handling their appearances.  By only mentioning small details about their willingness and capacity for destruction, this allows the viewer to bring his or her own imagination into the film.  Not only does that eliminate the need to depict Giant Warrior wrecking excessive obligatory violence, but it also helps capture the scale of NVW’s world.  These “monsters of the old world” are easily one of the most captivating aspects of the film.

A thousand years later, humanity’s remnants now contend with an ever encroaching poisonous jungle known as The Sea of Decay, the only flora which can survive in the toxic earth.  Guarded by massive trilobites called Ohm and other giant insects, these forests are exceptionally deadly to trespassers - Any act of aggression towards nature the will drive its denizens into a frenzied rage, obliterating all human life in sight.  The remaining nations now fight over Earth’s dwindling resources and remaining parcels of fertile land not yet claimed by ever-growing Sea.  As far as the movie shows us, there is a single exception; only the people of the Valley of the Wind have managed to coexist alongside the Sea of Decay in peace. 

NVW is at once the realization of many concepts drawn (literally) together.  Blending medieval European castles and windmills with WWII-esque bombing planes and gliders, swords and cyborgs, machine guns and armor, the film is a stunning vehicle for the fantastical, not to mention the spores, forests, giant insects, and titans of incomprehensible destruction.  The color scheme matches its ideas with vibrant hues and distinct character/creature design.  Admittedly this is sometimes at odds with the nature of the story – Though NVW is highly optimistic in its outlook, its tone and colorful design belies the seriousness of its environmental and anti-war overtones. 

When a foreign plane crashes into the Valley of the Wind, Princess Nausicaä discovers that they came from a neighboring country called Pejite.  More worrisome is their cargo, an unearthed fetus of a Giant Warrior in beginnings of its development. Suddenly the Valley of the Wind becomes a battleground. Another national power, the Tolmekians, vies to control the Giant Warrior so that they might wipe out the Sea of Decay and anyone who opposes them.  Nausicaä must at the same time contend with appeasing the vengeful Ohm, as the fighting has injured multiple insects.  But when she is stranded with a Pejite pilot, she discovers that not only is the Sea of Decay toxic because of humanity’s past warfare, but that deep below the swamps ancient wellsprings of water have become purified.  In essence the jungle exists to cleanse the soil while the Ohm act as watchful protectors to ensure its safe return. 

Convinced that humanity must coexist with the Sea of Decay so that life can return to Earth, Nausicaä rushes to back to the valley.  But on the return journey she intercepts a plot from the remaining Pejite leadership.  After torturing and kidnapping an Ohm larvae, they have flown it in the direction of the Valley so that the Ohm will swarm, destroying the Tolmekians along with everyone else.  Seeing the Ohm stampede, the Tolmekian leader releases the undeveloped Giant Warrior hoping it will stop them.  Though it unleashes single blasts of truly devastating firepower, it ultimately collapses and dissolves.  Everything looks hopeless until Nausicaä sacrifices herself to return the baby.  The Ohm cease their charge and heal Nausicaä, fulfilling an ancient prophecy that a man (in this case, a woman) would “Join bonds with the great earth and lead the people to the pure land, at last.” The Ohm return to the forest, the Tolmekian leader realizes the futility of their conquest and returns to her homeland, and the non-violent Pejites join the Valley to help rebuild under Nausicaä’s guidance.  All ends well, as far as we can tell.

Perhaps the scene that best encompasses the spirit of NVW is Nausicaä’s guiding an injured fly-like insect back to the forest.  On one hand it is prompted by the fear of the villagers; as one of them remarks, “Thank God.  No telling how we’d suffer for even a single insect’s death.” But it is just as much an expression of peace and compassion on her behalf. Rather than letting it die or silencing it, she leads to safety and lets it fly off into the distance.  But just before she turns to leave, she sees a single Ohm on the horizon straight ahead of her, watching, waiting, anticipating their return.  Then, once the fly reaches the jungle, the Ohm slowly turns its back and leaves.  It is one of the most subtle and enigmatic scenes of the entire film, encapsulating NVW’s perspective on nature.  Rather than stereotyping animals (or insects) and the environment as an apathetic entity, nature is instead presented as the arbiter of life.  Ohm are more than sentient guardians of the forest - They have essentially become the moral compass for humanity’s remnants.  Even as their reactions are animalistic given how people are judged in immediate terms of black and white (or blue and red), because the Ohm will recognize acts of sacrifice, nature has provided a framework for rehabilitating and redeeming the human race.  This is especially important since humanity was to blame for poisoning the Earth.  It shows that nature is still willing to accept humanity as long as they are respectful.  By extension I believe that’s why the Valley of the Wind was symbolically spared from the Sea of Decay’s spread.  Because the wind protected the valley from the toxic spores, this can be read as nature’s affirmation of their values.  Moreover, when the Ohm charge believing that the villagers had taken and injured one of their young the wind stops, revoking nature’s blessing; the villagers quickly recognize this as a premonition of doom.  Only through Nausicaä’s self-sacrifice to the Ohm can she return the wind to the valley and thereby save her people.  And in turn, nature forgives them.

The Ohm are also a brilliant contrast to the Giant Warriors.  I don’t think it’s any mistake that giant bugs were chosen to represent the guardians of the forest.  They are absolutely alien and unrecognizable, unlike mankind in every physical aspect.  Yet the Giant Warriors walk on two feet, carry giant spears, and wield the terrible gift of fire, leaving nothing but bones, flesh, and ash as their monuments.  Alternatively, when Ohm perish, spores grow inside their body, thus spreading the forests and continuing the circle of life.  The mirror NVW holds up to mankind is not flattering.  Not only does it juxtapose the inner nature of humanity and nature, but it also asks us to consider what it we leave behind?  Obaba, the wise woman of the Valley of Wind provides an answer to that self-introspection: “The Ohms’s rage is the fury of the Earth itself.  There’s no reason to live if our lives depend on a monster.”

What motivated Miyazaki to make this film?  Only he can answer that question.  But I’m willing to guess that in the wake of the Cold War and with the history of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the first thing that comes to my mind is Mutually Assured Destruction.  Though it’s never clarified how the Giant Warriors purged the world in a period of seven days (insert creation-imagery here), I wonder if the colossuses simply kept on destroying world because that was their purpose, even if it was not their makers’ intention.  The problem with beings or weapons designed for mass destruction is that they tend to do their job very well.  As they’re said to be designed to be the most evil creatures on the face of the Earth, It is easy to imagine them getting out of control.  I am more than willing to liken them to the atomic bomb in literal man-made form, especially considering the mushroom cloud erupting from its blast in the film’s final act.

I will partially criticize NVW for this apparent discrepancy between the gravity of its undertones and the upbeat presentation.  While the artistry is colorfully gorgeous, the story compelling, and the characters mostly memorable and sympathetic, the optimistic tone and bright atmosphere feels disjointed at times when compared to the seriousness of its message.  This is not necessarily a bad thing; there is nothing wrong with making a light-hearted movie that tries to address somber issues.  Even as its topics are weighty, NVW presents a hopeful perspective on humanity, despite admitting their faults.  But given the dichotomy alongside other details, I found it harder to be invested in its story and characters.  Many of the characters offer cute, melodramatic, or stereotypical performances when the film works best with subtle moments.  Sections of the synthetic music also have not aged well, but all of these are minor concerns. Besides, some of this also depends on who the film is intended for.  I’m confident in saying that this is a film for all ages, and in making itself presentable to kids and grown-ups while introducing ideas about anti-war and environmentalism is no simple feat.  It’s impressive in and of itself that NVW tells a story of how mankind has poisoned the world through warfare, how nature heals the earth’s wounds, and that mankind must show it respect, or else be leveled through their own self-destruction, all the while juggling the best and worst sides of humanity.  Is the film perfect?  Perhaps not, depending on the viewer’s perspective.  But is it still worth watching?  Yes, absolutely.

Scene Analysis: Sansho the Baliff – “Anju’s Descent”

See Clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eh9quT-m7Sk

One of the most haunting scenes of Sansho the Baliff is Anju’s quiet descent into the water, her mother’s lament consecrating this tragic act of sacrifice.  It is an eerie (and moving) moment in the story, as her drowning partially safeguards her brother’s escape while sparing her from a life of slavery.  But this hardly diminishes the scene’s tragedy; if anything it epitomizes the essence of her mother’s song, which I will describe in more detail later.  I will analyze this portion of the film to best of my ability, despite the limitations of the clip I will use.  Due to some complications with the scene recording tools, I will be unable show the entirety of the scene.  However, this Youtube clip posted by “Reehan Miah” (username) covers what I primarily wanted to focus on.  I will briefly describe what happens beforehand and then focus on this moment in particular.

 First, a quick recap.  Zushio and Anju have heard about their mother for the first time since their imprisonment through the song of a newly arrived servant girl.  After the two head off into the wilderness on an errand, they purportedly hear their mother’s calls and decide to escape.  However, Anju decides to stay so that she can distract the guards.  Zushio carries off the sick servant-woman they were supposed to abandon, and runs into the woods.  After waiting, the guards go to check if he is still there, and finding him gone, one man sounds the alarm while the others alert Sansho to Zushio’s disappearance.   This leads to one inconsistency in the film’s framework.  Immediately after Sansho commands that his men go searching, Anju and another servant-woman are suddenly left alone.  It’s unclear why this would have happened, but it lets Anju announce her plan.  The servant-woman offers to have herself tied up so that she may mislead the guards when they return.  Meanwhile Anju goes down to the waters’ edge, and after the servant-woman is left alone, we see her walk through the gate to see if Anju is still there.  By this point the clip covers the rest of the content.  After a bow of gratitude and the removal of her sandals, Anju steps into the pond.  The servant-woman kneels in prayer, shaking as the scene ends, cutting away to the disturbed waters. 

Despite the short duration of this clip, Mizoguchi’s dedication to balance in the mise-en-scene is clear.  Every shot of this sequence (5 in total) has a framework very similar to each other, particularly in their focus on an individual.  The first shot observes the servant-woman walking through the gate to see Anju.  She’s obviously the subject, given her tendency to be in the center of the frame.  The lighting also makes her consistently distinguishable from the scenery (even when she walks behind the posts), and it’s especially the case when she appears in the middle of the entrance.  (The light also neatly catches her face, but we’ve already covered this in class).  But even though she is the focus of the shot, it in no way diminishes the detail of her surroundings.  And the texturing of the scenery is not its only notable feature.  It also gives the shot a real sense of spatial depth, providing reference points like the tree, the gate, the woman, and the trees beyond.  The “layered-ness” of the mise-en-scene establishes a clear objects in the area without obscuring all of them from view.  The frame is balanced in its filled arrangement without detracting from what the viewer should be focused on.

The same principles can be applied to the next shot.  Bamboo in the foreground establishes the distance between us (or the camera’s position) and Anju down on the bank.  The other trees even out the frame while the murky water or fog settles the backdrop.  It’s an eerie setting, appropriate for the mother’s lament.  Anju almost appears to fade away into the mist and become one with her natural surroundings, as if she is already departing this world (I’ll address the spiritual implications later).  In technical terms, though we can still distinguish her (thanks to the subtle lighting advantages of black and white film), compared to the servant-woman, Anju blends in a great deal more.  It is enough so that we can see through the leaves her bow, taking off the sandals, and first steps into the water.

The third shot, like the second, is one of the most sublime.  All we see is Anju’s proceeding step by step into the pond, until the water comes above her waist.  It almost looks like a sort of diorama; the surrounding brush acts as a frame itself leading into the open space of water, designating a path for Anju to follow.  The ripples she causes also nicely fill up the shot as she moves deeper and deeper while their naturally occurring symmetry lends to its picturesque qualities.  It’s meditative and soothing, compounded by her mother’s song, making the scene’s tone all the more bittersweet.  (Note: It’s also worth mentioning when we see the water’s surface, its only movement is created by Anju.  I’m inclined to then call it a pond, which is not too far off from the marsh described in Mori Ogai’s original version of the story.)

The major technical aspects of Mizoguchi’s style found this scene are covered by the first three shots.  Though the last two are just as visually arresting, they do not necessarily display anything new in the ways of technique (their content is addressed below).  Lighting, spatial distancing, noticeable characters and detailed scenery with a clear emphasis on whom or what the audience should be focused on are just some of his consistently used methods.  But sound is just as important to this film as is the frame.  It actually might be considered the cornerstone of this scene, given its thematic and tonal quality.

Until we hear the mother’s song, the scene is initially silent save for the thrum of nature permeating the background.  Or perhaps it is noise inadvertently produced by the used filming technology.  I’m not entirely sure.  It doesn’t sound nearly organic enough; the faint buzz of static possibly obscures some of the sound tracks’ subtle intricacies, or this might be due to the video clip I’m using.  It also depends on the volume setting.  According to my speakers, if it loud enough to hear the servant’s footsteps (the only other present sound), this background noise is unavoidable.  One could almost interpret the sound as mimicking running water, almost comparable to a waterfall.  But if the water was still, that would seem relatively out of place.  It is unlikely then the sound is entirely meant to symbolize nature, but it’s there nonetheless.  On the other hand, perhaps there is supposed to be only silence asides from the footsteps, adding to the scene’s mournful atmosphere of quiet reverence.

And then we hear the mother’s song.  Here are its lyrics:

“Zushio, how I long for you

Isn’t life torture?

Anju, how I long for you

Isn’t life torture? X 4”

God, it’s beautifully tragic.  Or is it tragically beautiful?  I’ll leave that to the opinions of the beholder.   Yet it sets the tone for the entire scene.  Even though this sense of loss and longing can be presented through just the action on screen, the lament personifies these feelings through song.  The reality of Anju’s and Zushio’s life of slavery, their loss of their mother, their glimmer of hope in learning her music, and Anju’s decision to take her own life to preserve her brother’s sets establishes the anguish of this scene. “Anju, Zushio, How I long for you” completes it.  In some ways the song becomes a commentary and reaction to these on-screen events.  It’s no mistake that we hear the line “Anju, how I long for you” as she takes her first steps into the water.  “Isn’t life torture?” addresses the cruelty of the world that drives each person into their tormenting circumstances.  Anju is probably the best example of this.  Meanwhile the servant-woman, upon seeing Anju’s decision, falls to her knees, prays, and shakes with grief.  The song and not only makes pain tangibly visceral; it becomes a profoundly empathic response.  In other words the audience is supposed to become the servant-woman, believing and experiencing her grief as she does.  It’s a response that sanctifies this moment as her bubbles gradually fade away.  If it sounds like I am suggesting that there are some spiritual elements at work here, you wouldn’t be wrong.  I’ll address that in my final section.  But it does raise one technical question about the song: is the mother’s lament diegetic or non-diegetic?  Or, in simpler terms, is the song in this scene an actual part of Sansho the Baliff‘s world, or does it exist as an outside feature solely for audience’s benefit?

It’s worth asking given the implications.  If it exists only as a musical track intended for the audience, then we can leave it as a manifestation of the character’s feelings, though this certainly wouldn’t diminish its importance.  However, there are grounds to pose the question.  Earlier when Zushio and Anju were gathering supplies, Anju purportedly hears their mother calling them (we hear this in the background).  Of course this would be physically impossible; though several scenes beforehand we see their mother calling out their names across the ocean, there’s no way this could actually happen.  But despite the ambiguity surrounding whether Anju and Zushio hear their mother, because it is implied, that suggests that there is a spiritual component to world.  This is on top of their dedication to Buddhist principles and their family talisman, so it would not sound entirely out of place.  This question becomes all the more relevant when Anju descends into the pond.  The exchange of bows between her and the servant-woman on hand exists as a deep, meaningful gesture of respect and sacrifice, but it also adds an air of sacredness to their scene.  When the woman goes down on her knees, it could be just as much a position of fervent prayer or blessing, acknowledging the importance and sanctity of Anju’s actions.  Moreover, when Anju appears to fade into the background, she effectively becomes one with nature, compounded by the fact that she is drowning of all things.  That the scene is one of sacrificial suicide already lends to the otherworldliness of the scene.  I’m not entirely sure myself what the implications are if this scene dabbles in the world beyond, or how this affects interpretations of the film as a whole. There doesn’t appear to be any clear answer (as is the case with many things spiritual), but given that this is an arguably crucial aspect about this scene, I thought it deserved some mention.

Overall, this scene encompasses some the technical features of Sansho the Baliff as well as its thematic elements.  Anju’s descent is one that carries the heavy weight of sacrifice and grief, complemented and exemplified through her mother’s song.  Spiritual debates aside, it’s a moving farewell to a character whose time on-screen is all too brief.  I know I’m writing all of this from a biased perspective, but seriously; it’s a beautiful 1 minute and 48 seconds.

"I was Born, But..." Screencap Analysis

There are several things going on in this frame, each one more important to the shot relative to its distance from the camera.  The main subjects, and what we’re most immediately drawn to, are the two boys.  Both are dressed in mostly identical uniforms, wearing backpacks, and carrying the snacks which appear to be the same as the ones in the beginning of the film.  It’s clear from just their clothing that they are headed to school (asides from the fact that they are taking their usual route).  More importantly, the two boys are clearly looking forward at something; the one on the right seems more worried or concerned, while the other’s gaze appears to be a bit more tentative.  In the story’s larger context, we know that this is near the end of the movie, as the kids see their father’s boss waiting to cross the railroad.  Since this was the matter of a confrontation the day before, their nervous expressions aren’t that surprising.

Meanwhile their father in the background attempts to light his cigarette (with little success).  He is wearing his normal and shabby business attire, and like the boys, the audience already knows where he is headed simply by his outfit.  More important are his actions.  Though his trying to strike a match isn’t the focus of the shot, it does set up one subsequently where he isn’t just struggling; he is unable because of his nervousness.  It could even be read as a symbol of his failings, but that interpretation may as well as be superfluous.  It’s more worthwhile to notice that the father has to be put in the background so that his whole body can fit within the shot, making him look noticeably smaller than before.  That implies yesterday’s fight with his children was a humbling experience, or that at least he feels humiliated for having his low stature in the workplace revealed.  Since we know the boys are looking at his boss, it wouldn’t be wrong to assume that the father is seeking and failing to smoke as a way of avoiding his superior and perhaps lessening his nerves.

Lastly there’s the train rumbling through the scenery.  Throughout the movie there is the presence of industrialism looming as the backdrop, and, as a film dealing with the relationships between underlings and those above them, it does not bode well when industrialization also brings about the rise of companies, employees, and managers.  When you include the barren trees, telephone poles, wilted grass, and dirt road, the environment looks decidedly dismal. (Of course, that the film is in black and white also adds to that impression, but that cannot really be helped). 

Overall, this screencap, with the kids, the father, and the train, represent many of the film’s themes at work, while handily setting up their relative importance to each other according to where they are placed in the frame.  The train’s appearance, marking up the farthest and only active part of the background, creates the framework for the film’s narrative.  If it represents industrialism, and that is in turn the context of the story, then the train isn’t simply a part of the background; it symbolizes the backdrop for the entire movie.  Next there is the father, showing his own, mostly negative reaction to seeing his boss with the truth exposed.  (When he sees him, he starts looking away and trying to smoke). This is central to the movie, but it is still not the forefront subject.  That would be the boys’ reaction to their father’s situation, which we see in their reluctant gaze.  But this is not the end, since we have not yet seen them finish responding.  A good thing too, for otherwise the film will have ended only on a somber note without some of its most important scenes of redemption.  Though this screencap may be more dismal side, it succinctly summarizes the film’s final conflict.

(Screencap of "I was Born, But..." - Directed by Ozu, Yasujiro
Taken from Google Images
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