The story itself is relatively simple. A father and his two
daughters move to rural Japan, to be closer to their mother, who remains in
hospital (possibly based on Miyazaki’s own experiences as his own mother was in
hospital during his childhood). In the new house, the two children Satsuki and
Mei find dust-creatures named susuwatari.
This begins a fascination with forest creatures and the spirituality of nature.
One afternoon, as Satsuki is at school, Mei explores the forest and chases after
a small, vanishing creature. Akin to Alice chasing the White Rabbit, Mei chases
the creature through the forest and, falling down the rabbit hole, finds the
magical and majestic forest spirit Totoro. He sleeps and snores. He doesn’t
speak her language, but there is a connection. Satsuki convinces her sister and,
with father in tow, tries to find Totoro. Their father explains how Totoro
revealing himself to them shows a mutual respect and is a great honour. In an
unforgettable sequence, we see a nekobasu
– a cat-bus – collect Totoro after Mei’s first encounter with him at a rainy
bus-stop. We witness the girls as they see Totoro play his Ocarina on a branch
and prove his ties to the environment, forging a tender relationship.
Nature, spirituality and the wonder of childhood are
prominent features in the Studio Ghibli canon. Whether it is the way humans
interact with nature in Princess
Mononoke or the destruction of nature by man in Grave of the Fireflies; a ghost spirit of No-face in Spirited Away or the child at the centre
of Ponyo; My Neighbour Totoro includes these thematic elements throughout.
The final act of My Neighbour Totoro
even includes a wonderful flying-sequence as the nekobasu flies the two girls to see their mother, as the wind
rushes through the fur of the cat, we join them in the sky. As we fly in so
many of his films, this is a joyful reminder of the incredible imagination of Miyazaki
and how he captures the lush, green fields and blue skies in animation.
This was 1988, four years after the world wide success of E.T. and six years after The Snowman. In both cases, a mythical creature
enriches the life of children, carrying them over the wonders of nature. This
may be a surrealist fantasy, but it’s about friendship and the connection we
have with these spiritual forces (and what spirituality teaches us too). Considering
the backstory of the Mother’s sickness in My
Neighbour Totoro (And, in the double-bill, the history in Grave of the Fireflies), there is a
sense that nature and the innocence of childhood, in the face of adversity,
should be treasured above all. The fun and friendship of Totoro and his companions
keeps these particular children happy. Their mother and father are going
through a horrific period (is it life-threatening? Will these poor girls lose
their mother?). Is this when children should be taught of the fragility of
life? When Satsuki finds out about her mother, she puts her own life in danger
as she walks the long and lonesome road to the hospital. Perhaps, the innocent
child has to slowly and gently learn about the world.
A distinctive charm is what maintains My Neighbour Totoro’s ever-lasting power. Such sincerity and a
terrific sense of wonder means that we can, for a moment, be a child again ourselves.
Through the looking glass of cinema, we can see Totoro and the creatures too –
and what a memorable sight it is.
This was originally written for Flickering Myth on 18th April 2014
