ponyo; kids in miyazaki films

So yesterday I posted the entry on Ponyo, got up and went to see it. I was a little worried about how I would feel about the characters speaking English, but it hardly bothered me, to my surprise. It might be because the film doesn't rely much on words, or perhaps English has become less of a strange language to me. I remember how estranged I felt when I saw Spirited Away in English about six years ago; and I had seen the film twice in Japanese already. It was sort of exhausting because I had to be constantly paying attention to catch what was being said. Now I could sit back and enjoy Ponyo, understanding, if not every word, the meaning of almost every sentence. It made me happy how comfortable I've grown with the language.

But it's not about English and me. It's about Ponyo!

I don't think I'd be a good critic because I'm pretty much programmed to like Miyazaki movies, if not love. The moment the ocean blue spread before my eyes in the opening with all the colorful sea creatures, I was already happily smiling.

One thing I really like about his movies is how he has faith in children. Always, in his movies, children are the ones who have the greatest power with their innocence and big hearts. They know how to forgive, and they know how to love. Like Sosuke and Ponyo, their love is very simple and unshakable; they never even need to ask their love, "Do you love me, too?" And there are always adults who care about and watch out for them, while trusting them enough to let them do what they need to do. Idealistic? Maybe. But let us dream, that's what fiction can do.

Another Japanese person who also seems to share similar views on children is Kenjiro Haitani. Having been a teacher for a long time, he never lost faith in kids. He knew how fragile and strong they are, and in his stories there are always adults who never cease to trust kids. Maybe we can see them as adults who "successfully" became adults without losing what they had as kids.

Now it's possibly quite a Japanese way of seeing kids. I feel I could sound like a good anthropology major if I could take an author/filmmaker or two from America and compare and contrast our views on children, but I don't think I've done enough observation on the American perspective to do that. The boy in the story is immensely pure and yet powerful.

But if you'd like to take a peek into the Japanese view, or the one of Haitani, try reading his "A Rabbit's Eyes." I liked it when I read it as a nine-year-old, and I still liked it when I read it as an adult.