While I now, of course, appreciate the full genius of Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli – I’m only human – it wasn’t exactly love at first sight.
Having caught Spirited Away as a teenager, complete with pig parents and a rather spiritless American voice-over, I was clearly ill-equipped to take it in – distracted as I was by Pixar and their at that time peerless pixels. All that changed, however, when I discovered Howl and his absolutely enchanting moving castle.
For those of you who, like a younger me, haven’t discovered Studio Ghibli yet (there’s always one), Howl’s Moving Castle follows the various misadventures of Sophie (Chieko Baish?/Emily Mortimer), a beautiful 18 year-old hat-maker with confidence issues. Unintentionally attracting the attention of Howl (Takuya Kimura/Christian Bale), Sophie invokes the jealous wrath of the Witch of the Waste (Akihiro Miwa/Lauren Bacall), who curses the young haberdasher with the body of an old woman. Magically prevented from speaking of her condition, Sophie abandons the shop and runs away.
Encountering a sentient scarecrow quickly dubbed Turnip Head (Y? ?izumi/Crispin Freeman), the two soon find themselves in the shadow of Howl’s mysterious castle. Befriending the castle’s power source, a quick witted fire demon named Calcifer (Tatsuya Gash?in/Billy Crystal) who is able to see through the witch’s curse, Sophie successfully barters her freedom for that of Calcifer’s, requiring her to break the spell tying the demon to the castle. Assuming the role of cleaning lady, Sophie learns that Howl is being forced to participate in a war between her own world and its neighbour by the royal courts magician, Sulliman, who desires Howl’s heart for her own nefarious means.
Adapted from Diana Wynne Jones’ book of the same name, Howl’s Moving Castle isn’t your average children’s movie. In part a quasi-reaction to America’s war on Iraq, Miyazaki’s take on the narrative favours pacifism as motivation over the author’s own thematics and view of Howl as somewhat of a womaniser. It is a complex tale, not only propagating anti-war sentiments as well as discussion of destiny, duty and death, but a plot that takes in everything from witchcraft to time travel. It is resoundingly Ghibli, however, and as I have come to appreciate that means boundless creativity and a visual flair beyond even the reach of Pixar or Golden Age Disney.
What I love about Howl is its wild abandon, telling its tale with unwavering verve and vivacious characterisation. The similarities to 2007’s Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium (another film I have all the time in the world for) are undeniable; from the multi-destination door-knob to the whispers of a possible bewitched bequest the echoes are many. However, what is most striking is how wonderless the Emporium comes off in comparison, its bouncy-ball room paling in comparison to Miyazaki’s trademark depth and dimensions. Howl’s Moving Castle is utterly enthralling, the result far more fulfilling and – it must be said – far less trite.
While I have since fallen in love with Princess Mononoke, Ponyo and – with hindsight – Spirited Away too, only one thing continues to irk me with respect to Ghibli’s finest: the diabolical dubbing. Spared the annoyance with Arrietty, I fail to see the attraction of a Gillian Anderson voiced forest spirit, a Christian Bale voiced anything or, worst of all, Billy Crystal’s Calcifer. There is something wonderfully endearing about the original voice work, the enthusiastic exclamations of the Japanese voice cast adding something entirely authentic to the film. I’m sorry to say that this playfulness is somewhat lost in translation, though the stunning visuals and inspired storytelling of course compensate duly for the sound of Liam Neeson’s voice.
Don’t listen to the naysayers claiming Howl to be a weak link in the Ghibli canon, it is anything but. Spoilt by a succession of exceptional films, such people are keen to overlook the brilliance of a film Miyazaki was never himself supposed to direct. Majestic, compelling and an absolute delight, Howl is little short of a genuine masterpiece.
Arrietty is out now.
