Few filmmakers today bother to push the envelope. Even fewer attempt to shred it altogether.
Hayao Miyazaki is one rare maverick. A venerated figure in the field of animation, Miyazaki makes movies the way other people hallucinate during fever dreams. No sight is too outlandish, no concept too radical, no idea too extreme. In the world of this elder statesman of animation, everything is fair game. American toon features, even the best of them, are invariably bound by tradition and convention, but this master’s movies remain free from the shackles of conformity. His films are a sight for soaring eyes, ocular treats for moviegoers on the prowl for new experiences and new sensations.
For the novice, Howl’s Moving Castle probably isn’t the best place to start. The Academy Award-winning Spirited Away (2002) is Miyazaki’s acknowledged masterpiece, as well as the best animated feature to hit theaters since Beauty and the Beast back in 1991. Yet even earlier Miyazaki titles like Castle In the Sky (1986) and Princess Mononoke (1997) provide better peeks than this new release at how he links his dazzling visuals to gripping storylines that incorporate his recurring themes of courage, sacrifice and self-respect. Howl’s Moving Castle contains all these familiar ingredients, but only the artwork retains its flavor throughout. Fortunately, that’s more than enough.
Based on the book by British author Diana Wynne Jones, Howl’s Moving Castle — like practically all Miyazaki efforts — features a young female at the center of its convoluted plot. Here, it’s Sophie (voiced by Emily Mortimer), an 18-year-old girl who toils in her family’s hat shop without enjoying any semblance of an outside life. That changes on the day she bumps into the dashing young wizard Howl (Christian Bale), who owns the mobile castle that’s constantly glimpsed on the horizon by the frightened townspeople. Contrary to the popular rumor that Howl likes to eat the hearts of pretty lasses, Sophie discovers that he’s actually a gentle — if somewhat immature — master of magic. But her brief encounter with him carries a high price: Hostile toward anyone who comes into contact with her nemesis, the Witch of the Waste (Lauren Bacall) puts a curse on Sophie that instantly transforms her into a 90-year-old woman.
Understandably upset by this sudden turn of events, the elderly Sophie (now voiced by Jean Simmons) heads to the dangerous boondocks hoping to find someone with the power to break the spell. Her first contact is with a cheerful scarecrow whose single wooden appendage forces him to cover the terrain via big bounces (in this respect, he has less in common with his obvious inspiration, The Wizard of Oz‘s Scarecrow, than with human pogo stick Bobby Van, whose bounce-dance in the otherwise forgotten Small Town Girl was immortalized in the That’s Entertainment! series). This strawman in turn guides Sophie to Howl’s itinerant castle, a marvelous mechanical contraption that serves as home not only to Howl but to his young apprentice Markl (Josh Hutcherson) and to a wisecracking fire demon named Calcifer (Billy Crystal). Sophie climbs aboard the moving castle and immediately establishes herself as its housekeeper; this allows her to remain close to Howl (with whom she’s falling in love) while also seeking Calcifer’s aid in helping her reverse the curse placed upon her.
Beginning with his first major success, 1984’s Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, Miyazaki has repeatedly returned to the same themes: There’s nothing more splendiferous than nature; mankind should always strive to be respectful of the environment; and technological advances, especially those in service of war, should always be greeted with a wary eye. Howl’s Moving Castle incorporates elements of these issues, yet for once the results are too scattershot to make any lasting impression. Throughout the film, we hear talk of a war raging among combative kingdoms, and Howl, despite his apparent status as a conscientious objector, occasionally sprouts wings (Christian Bale, from Batman to Birdman!) and flies off to partake in aerial skirmishes. Meanwhile, there’s a powerful sorceress (vocals provided by Blythe Danner) who apparently has the power to order an end to the war, even though she’s aligned with only one of the kingdoms involved in the fray. It’s all rather vague and not terribly interesting, and the whole subplot feels like an afterthought on Miyazaki’s part.
By settling on higher-profile actors than those employed in Spirited Away, this Japanese film’s American handlers (specifically, Pixar power players John Lasseter and Pete Docter) have done a disservice to the movie’s English-language dubbing. Simmons and Bacall are effective in their roles, but Bale’s line readings are on the bland side and fail to capture the duality in Howl’s persona. Most jarring of all is Billy Crystal, whose nightclub shtick is at odds with the elemental feel conveyed by the movie’s setting and imagery. Nothing in Crystal’s braying would have possibly suggested that he’d fit into this magical world.
Still, glitches in storytelling and stunt casting cannot overshadow the wondrous sights that Miyazaki doles out for our approval. As in most of this auteur’s films, there are striking images that our mind’s eye won’t allow to fade away, from the majestic (the castle itself) to the minute (nothing like seeing a fire demon scarf down some bacon and eggs). Furthermore, Miyazaki rarely feels the need to soften his cartoon characters: Even that perennial crowd-pleasing standby — a doggie! — pops up here as a lazy, scruffy mutt prone to making disconcerting grunts. Miyazaki’s movies may qualify as eye candy, but at least we don’t have to worry about them rotting our teeth with spoonfuls of sugary sentimentalism.
This article appears in Jun 22-28, 2005.
