From the post-apocalyptic plea of “Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind” to the high-flying hauntedness of “Porco Rosso” and the free-associative reverie of “The Boy and the Heron” ( the latest and most convincing in a long series of “last” films), Miyazaki’s films have never shied away from the suffering that shadows our dreams; even a family classic as cuddly and light on conflict as “My Neighbor Totoro” is clouded by a very real threat of loss.
It’s a contradiction that’s hard to explain, even if evidence of the magic behind it abounds in every one of Miyazaki’s painstakingly hand-drawn frames. From the post-apocalyptic plea of “Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind” to the high-flying hauntedness of “Porco Rosso” and the free-associative reverie of “The Boy and the Heron” ( the latest and most convincing in a long series of “last” films), Miyazaki’s films have never shied away from the suffering that shadows our dreams; even a family classic as cuddly and light on conflict as “My Neighbor Totoro” is clouded by a very real threat of loss.