Screening: Summer Days With Coo
One of the most critically acclaimed anime films in the last year, Summer Days with Coo arrived as a last-minute addition to the schedule this year. Running an astonishing 138 minutes, it tells the story of Coo, a young Kappa who has been trapped in stone for several hundred years, after witnessing the gruesome murder of his father. He is awaken by Koichi, a young boy in need of a good friend. Koichi and his family are uncertain about the mythical creature at first, but they learn to love him, then determine to help him to find more of his own kind. But in a new and developed Japan, could it be that all of the spirits have disappeared for good?

Standing in a strange liminal space between E.T. and My Neighbor Totoro, the thing that struck me most about Summer Days with Coo was its willingness to push the story far beyond the expected. The plot I described above covers only the first half of the film, then gives way to a fascinating exploration of the media and what would happen if a Kappa would arrive in Japan today and capture the imagination of the people around it. It transforms this coming-of-age story into a story about modern culture and environmentalism, and much of this story is simply and genuinely touching. In fact, the film has so many great moments that I almost regret what I am about to say in the next few paragraphs.

But I have no choice. As touching and delightful as Summer Days with Coo is, it runs at least half an hour longer than it should. Many of the scenes drag on too long, and several of the subplots, including a predictable first love story and a plot-convenient relationship between Coo and the family dog, should have been excised. With a few omissions and some more liberal editing, this truly would have been one of the most wonderful stories I’ve seen in a long time. By the end, though, I was getting pretty fidgety, waiting for the story to finally grind to a halt.

The animation was also a bit of a disappointment. While small animation teams can’t hope to deliver the kind of animation that Gainax can deliver, we saw many films in the festival that were made on a smaller budget than this that had much better looking animation. The backdrops aren’t a problem here, but the characters are poorly rendered, revealing the kind of shortcuts that are usually only seen in low-budget television anime series.

Complaints aside, I really do respect Summer Days with Coo. It’s a genuine, heartfelt and touching story, with strong character development and some engaging messages. If only it had been a bit shorter, I would probably have written a much kinder review. More is not always better.

Screening: Piano Forest
The final screening of WFAC this year, Piano Forest struck a perfect closing note (pun entirely intended) for the festival. Another coming of age tale, it follows the story of two young boys and their rivalry at the piano.

Shuhei is an accomplished pianist for his age, practicing hard to become as skilled as his father, a famous concert pianist. He and his mother move from Tokyo to a small town temporarily to look after his grandmother, where he meets Kai, a poor and unruly local boy who demonstrates an unusual talent for the piano. They are both obsessed with a mysterious piano out in the woods, which only seems to work for Kai. As the story unfolds, their friendship transforms into a rivalry between dedication and talent.

All of which, I realize, doesn’t sound that engaging. What the summary doesn’t convey is the sense of magic and sincerity in this simple and beautiful tale. At the core of the film is the relationship between the two boys, who are given equal footing as heroes of the story. Shuhei works constantly at his practicing, even though the piano has become an enemy to him. He is driven to be the best, but has no passion for what he is doing. Kai is the opposite, loving his natural talent but feeling no desire to practice and improve his skill. It is reminiscent of the connection between Mozart and Salieri, as Shuehei becomes jealous of Kai’s superior skill and passion.

As a teacher, I’ve been in a number of conversations about which students we prefer to have: the ones who are brilliant but shrug off their studies, or those with little natural aptitude who are nonetheless willing to work hard throughout the year. Most of us prefer the latter. Perhaps this is due to the anguish we feel over the truly talented ones. If only they would apply themselves and deliver their greatest effort, we can only imagine what they could accomplish. Still, there is an odd fascination with the rare geniuses that cross the doorway into our classrooms–we wonder how they came to be blessed with such talent. Piano Forest is interested in this as well, and explores a number of related ideas as the two boys push towards a crucial national piano contest.

I will not say any more about the plot, except to say that it does not end how we expect, but plays out better than we could imagine. This is a truly delightful example of animation, one that should be seen by all children who are old enough to understand the subtle messages it contains. More than anything, it is a beautiful production. The animation is simple but luscious, the soundtrack contains some of the most stunning piano solos I have ever heard, and the story is both straightforward and meaningful. It’s this kind of story that keeps me coming back to anime and animation in general, and it served as a wonderful reminder of why I spent so much time this weekend crammed in uncomfortable chairs, gazing into the screen until my eyes were tired. Animation is inherently magical, a window into an impossible but wonderful world. The subtle fantasy of Piano Forest was a great example of that, but certainly not the only one of the weekend.

In fact, WFAC has a lineup of films that I would expect to see in an animation festival in New York, Toronto, or Paris, not in downtown Kitchener in November. Hopefully, more people will discover this particular brand of magic next year. It’s an experience I would recommend to anyone able to make the trip in. If you live anywhere near Kitchener/Waterloo, you have no excuse to be missing out. I, for one, am already looking forward to what worlds WFAC will show us next year.

Screening: Grave of the Fireflies
Of all the films that are showing at WFAC this year, Grave of the Fireflies is the one that needs the least introduction. When I found out it was showing at the festival this year, I was really excited. When I found out it was being projected in 35mm, I was even more excited. When I found out it was a free showing, and that I could bring a busload of students from school with me, I was more excited yet.

Without a question, this was one of the most powerful experiences I have ever had in a theater. For those of you not familiar with Grave of the Fireflies, it is one of the best films to come out of Studio Ghibli, the same studio that produced Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away. Unlike most of the other Ghibli films, Grave of the Fireflies is far from being a whimsical, delightful children’s tale. It follows the experiences of Seita and Setsuko, two children who are orphaned during the last days of World War II. For a while, they stay with relatives, but they are eventually pushed out, forced to try to make do without any aid or societal support. It is one of the most heartbreaking films ever made, and the experience of watching it on the big screen is one that I never expected to have.

If anything, the film is better than I remember it. It is flawlessly structured, set up from the very beginning to deny us the hope of a happy ending, and yet the children are so innocent and delightful that we find ourselves hoping that something will arrive to make things okay. Director Isao Takahata sets each moment up to tug us in these two directions, and the result is astounding.

It’s also a film that defies any real classification. It looks like an anime film, particularly in the character design. It’s quite similar to the artwork style of My Neighbor Totoro, but it’s also full of a shocking, unsettling realism that few people are really prepared for. As a result, this is an anime that can be appreciated by a much wider range of people, not simply those who already enjoy animation. If I were to come up with a list of the greatest animated films of all time, I have no doubt that Grave of the Fireflies would top that list.

As it turns out, WFAC is the only stop this print is making in Canada. The print itself is in quite good condition considering the film’s age, and the experience of watching animation in 35mm is a truly dazzling experience. I only mention this because the same print will be presented in several places in the United States, including the Smithsonian and the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. If you are a fan of Grave of the Fireflies, of animation, or of films in general, I strongly recommend you look into whether this print will be showing anywhere near where you live. If it is, don’t miss the opportunity. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance for film buffs.

Screening: Idiots and Angels
After seeing some of Bill Plympton’s short films, I was excited to get a chance to see Idiots and Angels. Plympton’s animation style is incredibly unique, and he has a vicious sense of humor that I wanted to see stretched out into a more ambitious work.

Now, coming out of this screening, I’m not so sure that’s really what I wanted after all.

That’s not to say that Idiots and Angels isn’t an impressive piece of animation. Plympton’s animation exists in a strange otherworld where nothing has sharp edges, perspective is continually changing, and nobody really speaks. This allows him a certain level of expressionism, and the lack of communication works well in a world where nobody is really capable of communication.

This particular outing centers around a cruel gun merchant. He is hotheaded and cruel, and has only a handful of friends, who don’t even like him. His life is trapped in a cycle of ugly routine, which quickly changes when he discovers that a pair of angel wings are growing from his back. He tries to suppress the wings, but they overwhelm him, then force him to start doing good things. In a lot of ways, Idiots and Angels exists as a fascinating counterpoint to the legend of Icarus, where we have a man with no great ambition, who is pressed into greatness and heroics through his bizarre circumstances.

Unfortunately, the film simply doesn’t hold together as well as it should. Despite a rich series of symbolic visuals, surprising twists, and fascinating visuals, Idiots and Angels often feels too long and uncontrolled. We see too much of the man’s cruelty to buy into his transformation, so we still don’t like him at the end, even if we are meant to. The film represents a true cesspool of humanity, and there are few characters that we can connect to in a meaningful way. This may well be intentional, as Plympton is trying to make us feel dislike for the characters that populate this vicious world. Regardless of the intent, I came out of the screening with a bad taste in my mouth and a sense of disappointment. A film with this much love and passion poured in should offer more of it to the audience. Doubtless, serious fans of Plympton’s work will be impressed by it, but the uninitiated will probably be perplexed and disgusted by its approach.

Given Plympton’s approach to animation and storytelling, that might just be exactly how he wants you to feel.

Screening: Nocturna
The 35mm print of Nocturna couldn’t be delivered in time for the festival, so we were unfortunately stuck with a digital screener copy. After five or ten minutes, though, we honestly didn’t notice. That’s thanks to the magical world that is created by this Spanish family film, which is sure to be a favorite among the children who are lucky enough to see it.

Nocturna follows the story of Tim, a young orphan (what is it with Spanish films and orphans?) who is afraid of the dark. When the other children fall quickly asleep, Tim sits by his window, watching his star and keeping in as much light as possible. One night, that star goes out, and Tim is thrust into a world of nighttime imagination. It becomes up to Tim and his new friend, the Cat Shepherd, to keep the night from falling into permanent shadow.

I always love when films create a new mythology, and Nocturna does a fabulous job at that. There is a whole menagerie of nighttime creatures, each one with a specific job–some mess up children’s hair, some steal individual socks, while others keep streetlights from going out. This probably sounds fairly childish, and it is, but that doesn’t begin to describe the magic that runs through the production and animation. Like the best family entertainment, Nocturna reminds us of childhood fears and joys, which thrusts us back into our own memories and experiences. There is nothing edgy or dangerous about the story, and yet it’s both exciting and engaging.

In the end, Nocturna really is a fairly inconsequential film. It doesn’t break any new ground, nor does it have the best animation I’ve seen. It has a lot of heart, though, not to mention a completely unique visual style and story rich enough to support multiple viewings. The English voice work is delightful, and I hope that it arrives in North America soon–where it is sure to secure a number of fans among the young and old.