SPIRITED AWAY (Hayao Miyazaki, 2002; dubbed version)
Reviewed: November 9th, 2002
The most insanely overpraised film of the year -- nay decade -- nay century --
is actually nothing more than a soporific non-story. Oh sure, there are wonderful
images 'a plenty (the shot in which our bland, little girl protagonist first glimpses
the veritable city across the sea, sumptuously drenched in orange and framed upper
right, bland protagonist framed lower left; the first time the train is glimpsed
skirting across its watery tracks; the second time the train is glimpsed skirting
across its watery tracks; the sequence where our bland protagonist and a bunch
of her decidedly bland companions are riding said train to a swampland; yes, I
clearly have a train fetish), but they add up to nothing memorable nor worthwhile
in the absence of wonderful anything-the-hell-else. I find it exceedingly ironic
that Pixar head/Toy Story-Toy Story 2 helmer John Lasseter (who
oversaw the US release of Spirited Away) considers writer/director Hayao
Miyazaki a personal hero, since, pretty picture maven that Miyazaki might be,
the guy has no idea how to tell an engaging freakin' story (the quality, above
all else, that makes Lasseter and Pixar the true kings of animation right now).
There's no real narrative throughline here (or only a simulacra of one and not
nearly enough of a throughline to justify an absurdly plump over-two-freakin'-hours
runtime), just the broad observation of our bland protagonist (did I mention how
bland she is?), a little girl going through the motions of trying to restore her
parents--who have been turned into pigs--to human form. Most every place Miyazaki
attempts to takes his non-story (and there aren't many) feels strained to me:
there's a twin sister brought in too late in the game to play as anything other
than a desperate plot contrivance and one of the close-to-penultimate scenes in
which our bland protagonist needs to recall/then easily does recall a crucial
piece of information in order to save another bland character, nearly made me
gag, so fucking convenient that it was. All the surreal artifice manages to strip
away whatever oz. of emotion was initially present (although I'm not convinced
there ever was a full oz. to begin with) and I very fast got sick of surprisingly
uninspired creatures treating our bland protagonist cruelly. After my breaking
point Spirited Away became nearly unbearable tedium (once the "stink monster"--which
I'm sure had Kevin Smith rolling in the aisles--came around, I mentally signed
off for good). Must of checked my watch upwards of twenty times all told and rarely
remember being so happy to see an end credits scroll.
Return home.