Tag: Animation

Miyazaki Month: Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind

Written by Myrna Waldron.

Nausicaa hears the bubbling healthy water inside a petrified tree

  • Unlike the previous three reviews for this “retrospective,” I was going into this review almost completely blind. I had not seen Nausicaä before today, and only knew that it was a film with a strong female protagonist and a lot of flying around on gliders. Thinking back on it now that I’ve seen the film, it is definitely very good, but I do not consider it on the same artistic level as Princess Mononoke or Spirited Away. The film is unmistakably Miyazaki, as it has his favourite themes of pacifism, environmentalism, feminism, and “Things that fly are really cool.” I think the pacifism and environmentalism themes were a lot more heavy-handed in Nausicaä than they were in Princess Mononoke. I also found the characterization kind of lacking — I can’t even remember the names of most of the male characters. The animation is incredible, of course. The music is a mixed bag. “Normal” scenes are scored simply, with the soundtrack only adding necessary emotional pull. Scenes where the insects rampage, however, are scored with a distinctly 80s-sounding electronic fast-paced musical style which, I feel, conflicts with the rest of the film. It reminded me a lot of boss battle music that you find in video games. Oh well!
  • I decided to just watch the movie with the English dub on — as I was seeing the film for the first time, it would have been very hard for me to follow two scripts at once without already knowing what the characters are saying and what is going to happen. The English dub is…okay. I was practically gleeful to hear Patrick Stewart’s voice. He could narrate the recipes on the back of a soup can and I’d listen enraptured. I have to say that Alison Lohman was a lacking heroine. She said far too many of her lines in the exact same intonation. I have no idea why they cast Shia LeBoeuf in anything, because his voice isn’t particularly notable, and his delivery was average. Heh, remember when Hollywood tried so hard to make Shia LeBoeuf happen? Uma Thurman was decent as Princess Kushana — there was definitely a lot of coldness and bitterness in her delivery, which gave the character much needed development. And, because I did not check the Japanese script, I don’t know if this is a problem specific to the English script or what, but it drove me NUTS that the characters kept referring to Nausicaä as “The Princess” or “Princess” as if she didn’t have a name. Also, comparing my notes to the TV Tropes article, it seems that the English dub mispronounced/mistranslated a few terms — I heard Torumekian as “Tolmekian” and Ohmu as “Ohm.”  
  • Speaking of Princesses, Nausicaä and Kushana make a very interesting comparison to the traditional Disney-style fairy tale princesses we’ve come to grow up with. Most notably, both of them are tremendously proactive. They don’t wait for other people to do their tasks for them; they act immediately. Nausicaä is tomboyish rather than traditionally feminine. Kushana retains some femininity, but it heavily contrasts with her warlike ambitions and her armour-like prosthetics. There are no tiaras or poofy dresses here — neither woman has any time for that kind of crap. Neither one has any romantic ambitions or entanglements either, as both tremendously value their independence. I suspect that Kushana is meant to be a strong counterpoint to Nausicaä. Kushana is bitter where Nausicaä is optimistic, vengeful instead of peaceful, etc. There is one thing that bothers me though. Both of Nausicaä’s parents are dead, so shouldn’t she now be a Queen, not a Princess? I can understand the Valley of the Wind’s people being reluctant to acknowledge the murder of their sovereign and do not have time to hold a coronation, but to continue to call her Princess robs her of a chance to gain a significant leadership role. The Disney Princesses always remain Princesses. They can get married, have children, and the parents are nowhere to be found, but they must never become rulers. In Kushana’s case, I discovered via TV Tropes that in the extended Nausicaä manga, she has a living father and brothers, so it is understandable that she is still “Princess” despite her obvious leadership role.

Nausicaa flies into a rage after her father is murdered
  • Nausicaä is a well-developed female protagonist, and Kushana is also a decently developed female antagonist, but I found myself wishing that they had the moral ambiguities found in the characterizations of San and Lady Eboshi. Nausicaä is a rather obvious messiah archetype and practically has no flaws at all. I have to stretch a bit to find some — her sheer determination to help everyone and everything in danger, no matter what, borders on recklessness. Her lapsing into sheer lethal rage at finding her father murdered is a flaw she fears in herself. This dark side of her makes her not so different from Kushana in some ways. However, on the positive side, Nausicaä has a tremendous amount of agency, and is equally as brave, talented and selfless as any ideal heroic male protagonist would be. Her glider, which she effortlessly rides the wind on, is an obvious metaphor for freedom. She also has a distinct talent in that she can communicate effectively with the animals and insects in this post-apocalyptic world. The other people in the world fear these animals and execute them for their own safety, but Nausicaä resolutely believes that they have the ability to reason and are capable of kindness.
  • One aspect of Nausicaä’s character I appreciated was her interest in chemistry and botany. On her many expeditions, she gathers the supposedly poisonous spores in the Toxic Jungle, brings them back home, and then secretly cultivates them. She discovers that irrigating the plants with clean water and soil removes their toxicity completely. She was doing this in hopes of finding a cure for her father’s poisoning, but his murder almost forces her to give up completely. As time goes on, she even realizes that the forest and insects evolved specifically to clean the earth’s pollution. Observing ancient petrified trees, she deducts that the trees absorb the pollution so it becomes inert. The trees die, petrify, and then become purified sand. This plot point, of course, relates to Miyazaki’s usual message preaching environmentalism. The world of Nausicaä presents a dark future — the pollution humans have caused has gotten so bad that the earth itself is striking back at future human generations and slowly eliminating them. Nausicaä’s discoveries offer some semblance of hope, as she teaches her fellow villagers how to irrigate the plants safely.
  • Princess Kushana is a relatively sympathetic antagonist. Having lost an arm and both her legs to insect attacks, her wanting to enact vengeance on them is understandable. She even hints that there is further damage to her body that only her future husband will see. A TV Tropes writer interpreted that line to mean that Kushana’s reproductive organs were removed, which I don’t agree with. She’d have quite a bit trouble going to the bathroom if that whole area were removed! And, uh…I don’t really want to think about the subtextual implications of the female antagonist having lost her reproductive organs. I think that line just means that she has deep scarring on parts of her body that only someone who will see her naked would see. Regardless of what actually happened to her body, the contrast between Kushana’s beauty and her missing limbs is very striking. It relates to the contrast/contradiction inherent in her personality — she is clearly intelligent and reasonable, and yet full of rage and imperialistic ambitions. The design of her armour/prosthetics is quite interesting. It’s almost Greek/Roman in style, which makes me mentally compare her to Athena. Since Nausicaä’s name is taken from Greek mythology, I suspect this analogue is deliberate.
Kushana has difficulty getting the incomplete Stone God to attack
  • The pacifism message is hammered HARD in this movie, almost as hard as the environmentalism message. Nausicaä consistently chooses not to fight, even in the face of certain death, and deeply fears the one part of her that succumbed to rage in the wake of her father’s murder. When she meets her future pet fox-squirrel for the first time, she allows it to bite her finger — without flinching — in order to show it that she is not to be feared. The neighbouring countries/factions to the Valley of the Wind, Torumekia and Pejite, are competing with each other over a Giant Warrior, an ancient artefact left over from the nuclear wars that destroyed the world. When Kushana activates it, it demonstrates enormously devastating destructive power, but immediately collapses and melts when Kushana tries to force it to attack again. The message here seems to be that warmongers put far too much trust into their weapons, and get drunk on the destructive power they are capable of. In comparison to Kushana’s warmongering, Nausicaä’s capacity for self-sacrifice is her most significant character trait. She allows herself to be shot twice to save a baby Ohmu, and even lets it push her into the Acid Lake to demonstrate how dangerous it is. The Ohmu are shown to be intelligent, compassionate creatures, and they revere Nausicaä’s willingness to sacrifice everything for peace. Nausicaä is even a fairly obvious Jesus archetype, in that the Ohmu combine their abilities to resurrect her after she dies trying to stop the herd from rampaging. (Miyazaki claims the Jesus analogue was accidental…in which case, um, really? Maybe it’s my Western education that makes it so very obvious to me.)
  • I can say quite confidently that I liked Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind quite a bit, but I definitely prefer other Miyazaki films. Still, this film has a LOT going for it. As a feminist, I’m always glad to see a proactive and well-developed female protagonist, although I wish they’d given her a few flaws to make her more relatable. I especially appreciated a nuanced female antagonist who had a sympathetic reason for her extremism. I found the environmentalism and pacifism themes a little heavy-handed in this film (I almost felt like I was watching Fern Gully in some parts), but that may be because I saw his later films with a more balanced approach to presenting those themes. The imaginativeness of the film is probably its strongest point. The airships and gliders are a lot of fun, as is the design of the Toxic Jungle, which manages to be both menacing and beautiful at the same time. If I were to recommend this film, I would suggest to show it to someone who hasn’t seen other Miyazaki films yet, as I have a feeling that the messages in his film would be more effective if they hadn’t already been presented in other films. But, hey, strong female protagonist. A Miyazaki special. Can’t go wrong with that. Thank you for reading my Miyazaki Month retrospective!  



    Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.

    Miyazaki Month: Howl’s Moving Castle

    Written by Myrna Waldron.

    Howl’s Moving Castle travelling through the mountains


    The next film featured in my “Miyazaki Month” retrospective is Howl’s Moving Castle. It was the successor to Spirited Away, which was supposed to be Miyazaki’s Swan Song, but then again so was Princess Mononoke. Dude’s never going to retire, and that’s just fine. It didn’t repeat Spirited Away’s success at the Oscars (losing to Curse of the Were-Rabbit) but is still a fan favourite. It’s also one of his few films to be an adaptation (Ponyo’s retelling of The Little Mermaid being the other one) though it doesn’t even try to be faithful. I have read the original book by Diana Wynne Jones, but it’s been a few years (Yes, I promise to re-read it soon). I do know for sure that the war subplot was definitely not in the novel. TV Tropes says that Miyazaki was incredibly upset by the US invasion of Iraq (as any sensible person would be) so he wove that into his adaptation. Environmentalism isn’t a theme this time (beyond lavish depictions of nature, but that’s a Ghibli thing) but pacifism and feminism make a reappearance.
    • So far, the English dub script is the most accurate of the three films I’ve reviewed. I suspect this is because this film is an adaptation of a Western novel and, as such, includes a Western understanding of Fantasy Tropes rather than Japanese. Far less localization would be required in adapting the script. No Captain Obvious lines this time, thank goodness. There were a few line changes I took notice of, however. In the Japanese version, Sophie says that she hired herself as a cleaning lady. In the dub, however, she says that Calcifer hired her because he couldn’t stand how messy the castle was. Not really sure why the change was necessary here. Another change irked me a little. When Howl is telling Sophie about his past with the Witch of the Waste, in Japanese, he says, “She seemed quite interesting, so I approached her. But she terrified me, and I ran away.” In English, he says, “She was once quite beautiful, so I decided to pursue her. But I realized she wasn’t, so, as usual, I ran away.” The Witch is extremely overweight, but until her powers are stripped by Suliman, she’s clearly still beautiful. This script change reinforces the bullshit that fat women are automatically no longer beautiful.
    • Spirited Away’s English cast is still better than this film’s. I honestly really do not like the casting of Christian Bale as Howl. I’ve never liked his Batman voice, and that’s honestly all I can hear here. And really, for a character who is a flamboyant, foppish pretty-boy, they chose Christian Bale? Still, at least he had prior experience as a voice actor for Disney. Jean Simmons and Emily Mortimer are fine as Old and Young Sophie. Though it’s a little distracting that Sophie is the only one with a British accent here. And as a fan of old movies, I loved being able to hear Lauren Bacall’s husky voice again. As for Billy Crystal, well, I think they just gave him a basic translation of the Japanese script and told him to go nuts. Calcifer’s dialogue diverges from the original script the most, and definitely has an improvisational air to it. But I don’t mind, since his performance makes the movie. (He also had prior Disney voice acting experience.)
    • If I had one big complaint to make about this film, it’s that the 3rd act is a MESS. It’s taken me several re-watchings of the film to make heads or tails of it, because there is just way too much going on and very little is explained. This is a problem that is in a lot of Miyazaki films, but it’s particularly bad here. I believe the film’s ending diverges almost completely from the book’s, too. The really mindbending thing is that the film contains a causal loop. Sophie travels to Howl’s past via the black portal on the door, and witnesses him making the bargain with Calcifer. No reason is given for him to make this decision. She’s able to manipulate the events of the past rather than just watching them, and says that she knows now how to save both of them, and asks for him to find her in the future. And the first thing he ever said to her was, “I was looking everywhere for you.” But it is not explained how the black portal can travel to the past. And it is the black portal that Howl exits through when he’s out sabotaging the bombers. So…what exactly does that black portal DO? Was Sophie only allowed to go to the past because she was desperately trying to find a way to help Howl? This stuff still confuses me 10 years later. I know that showing rather than telling is an important filmmaking principle, but there’s a limit here.
    Sophie can no longer put up with Howl’s vanity, saying she has never once been beautiful

    • Sophie is another wonderful Miyazaki female protagonist. Like the others, she has agency, and drives forward her own story. Howl’s name may be in the title, but he’s a secondary protagonist to her. Her character arc is centred around her low self-esteem, and is a commentary on how women are pitted against each other in the interest of attracting men. She’s shy and relatively plain compared to her glamorous mother and sister, so she dresses dowdy and keeps telling herself that she’s not beautiful (even though anyone who sees her would disagree). The Witch of the Waste, who desires to possess Howl’s heart, is jealous of Sophie (and presumably any woman that gets mixed up with Howl), so she casts a curse to make Sophie become a 90 year old woman. We could probably divine some Freudian implications here – The Witch removed her rival by taking her fertility away. The properties of the curse are another thing that aren’t really explained in this film. As the story progresses, Sophie gradually becomes younger (usually appearing 60ish rather than 90ish), but in times when she shows confidence, reverts back to her true age. Her hair even reverts to its original colour when she’s asleep, suggesting that she has to be conscious of the spell for it to work. The explanation given on TV Tropes which makes the most sense to me is that she is unknowingly recasting the spell on herself every time she puts herself down, and that it actually broke long before. Thematically, it seems that this film is arguing that age is in many ways a social construct, and that you only sabotage yourself when you put yourself down. But I can certainly sympathize with Sophie. Lord knows I’ve been there.
    • Although I find the ending convoluted, I enjoyed watching Sophie save the day. Howl only has his double-edged sword magic to rely on, whereas she has a quick wit that she didn’t recognize in herself until she became old. It wasn’t until there was no reason to doubt herself anymore that she started gaining confidence. Much of her actions are because of her love for Howl, but she does not have a slavish single-minded devotion to him. Instead, her love makes her want to stand up for him, and to want to care for the others in their “family.” She even forgives The Witch and uses affection to persuade her to give Howl’s heart back to him. Only weeks before, she was enjoying The Witch’s struggles to climb the palace steps. It shows how far both of them have come. And I liked that two people who originally considered each other romantic rivals could find an understanding and an affection for each other as family. How often does that happen?
    The Witch of the Waste’s powers are stripped away by Suliman
    • Speaking of The Witch of the Waste, I’m still not sure how I feel about her character. I wonder how necessary it was to make her grotesquely fat (admittedly, I don’t remember if she was overweight or not in the novel). She’s clearly the kind of fat person who never moves around at all (she doesn’t even walk if she doesn’t have to), but I am getting very tired of depictions of fat people that make us out to be as lazy as possible. It’s inferred that her outward appearance is a reflection of the ugliness inside of her, but again, is that kind of inference really necessary? It was also kind of sadistic that Madame Suliman forced her to climb up an enormous amount of stairs in order to debase the Witch and make her physically weak. Still, I do like that once again in a Miyazaki film, here’s a supposed villain with some moral ambiguities. She’s clearly not completely to blame for her predicament, or for her greed for Howl’s heart, as she, too, gave up her heart to a demon. And once she’s depowered, she’s a sweet, senile old lady – this is who she really is inside.
    • Madame Suliman appears to be the real villain of this story. She allows the King to be a blustering, warmongering fool. She entices The Witch of the Waste into coming to the Palace with a promise that her powers will be respected at last, and instead springs a trap that removes The Witch’s powers (brushing it off as a punishment for The Witch’s selfishness). And she sends a royal invite to Howl under both of his pseudonyms, knowing that he cannot refuse and that both of them are him. She even plans to blackmail Howl into fighting for the Empire, or she will depower him just like she did to The Witch. Suliman is a total tyrant, and yet she gets away with it at the end because she’s planning to stop the war. Bit of an anticlimax there, but then again, there was already too much going on in the 3rd act. I wish I knew more about her, especially her time as Howl’s teacher. Surely some of the “War is bad!” stuff could have been dropped for a little more character development for her. (I’m already sympathetic to that message, after all.)
    Howl presents to Sophie a beautiful field filled with ponds and wildflowers
    I sound like I dislike this film more than I do. I really do love the fairy tale story, Sophie and Calcifer’s characters, and the trademark sumptuous visuals. I love the steampunkiness of the setting (which appears to be Victorian Germany). I love that this is a fairy tale where the heroine is the one who drives the story forward, and makes everything all right in the end. I remember reading some bullcrap from the screenwriter of Oz: The Great and Powerful complaining that there aren’t enough fairy tales with men as the heroes. (Yes, really.) If he’d seen this film, maybe he’d finally understand just how rare heroines like Sophie are. What I love, most of all, is this film’s approach to the issue of self-esteem of women. Miyazaki understands very well just how hard it is for us to be confident in a world that is constantly telling us that we’re inferior. And that we have to find the confidence within ourselves – being told we’re beautiful isn’t enough, we have to believe it.



    Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.

    Miyazaki Month: Spirited Away

    Written by Myrna Waldron.
    Haku and Chihiro walk through a floral maze
    Spirited Away has a deserved reputation as Hayao Miyazaki’s Magnum Opus, and even managed to outgross Princess Mononoke at the Japanese box office. It’s also, to this date, the only traditionally animated non-Western animated feature to win the Best Animated Feature Oscar. Which really should be called the Pixar Award For Distinguished Achievement At Being Pixar. I have trouble believing that the film is 12 years old, because it feels like it was released only yesterday. I slightly prefer Princess Mononoke, but Spirited Away is just as much a masterpiece as Miyazaki’s other works.
    And, of course, it’s feminist too.
    • The English dub is not as accurate as Princess Mononoke’s was. It’s still very well done, but there was a lot more ad-libbing, extra dialogue, and some slight fiddling around with plot points. The Captain Obvious problem happens again with some of Chihiro’s dialogue, (“Haku! You’re bleeding!”) and they have her talk about Haku a lot more often than she does in the original script. The other characters often make allusions to The Power of Love that weren’t there in the original. Zeniba even says that her curse on Haku was broken by Chihiro’s love for him, though I think this change was added not so much to push the romance angle but to make the whole situation with Zeniba a little clearer. …Not that it helped much. I prefer the casting of voice actors in this film, as there aren’t any gratuitous celebrity voice actors this time. Of the main cast, the most well-known name is the late Suzanne Pleschette, and she would only be familiar to Baby Boomers for the most part. Even then, she and almost all of the others had previous experience as voice actors for Disney. And yes, Disney, you get a cookie for casting Daveigh Chase (who was fantastic as Lilo) instead of one of the Fannings. One other thing I have to commend the English dub for is that hilarious song about No-Face that John Ratzenberger ad-libbed for his character. Definite improvement over the original, which was already a very funny scene. I don’t know why the English dub team decided to go back to doing celebrity voice actors for future Ghibli releases, especially ones that are destined to immediately date the film like a Cyrus sister and a Jonas brother would.
    • Chihiro is the type of little girl heroine I wish I had when I was younger. Hayao Miyazaki has said that he specifically designed her to be average, relatable, likeable, and non-sexualized. He has also said how much he resents that a hero can be unattractive, but a heroine must always be cute. Chihiro really does look, act and feel like a real Japanese child, not a fantasy of what one “should” be. Her story has been compared to Alice in Wonderland, which I can sorta see (little girl is trapped in a dreamlike world where people are needlessly hostile to her and not much makes sense). One thing I really love about how Chihiro is depicted in this movie is all the little touches that make her feel real. When she puts on her shoes, she taps her toes on the floor to make sure the shoe is on properly as she walks off. Something that we normally don’t even think about, our tiniest little unconscious habits, Hayao Miyazaki has thought of, and added to the depiction of his heroine.
    • As mentioned before, one of Miyazaki’s favourite themes is environmentalism, and it plays a role in the plot in two instances. First, Chihiro proves herself to Yubaba and the other workers by successfully “curing” the Stink God that was actually the spirit of a severely polluted river. The “Stink God”’s appearance is a pretty heavy condemnation of how disgusting pollution is. The characters make it clear with their expressions that the bathhouse guest is the worst thing they have ever smelled in their lives. Its very presence rots the furniture. It’s actually pretty hard not to feel grossed out during that scene, and again at the end when Chihiro and the others pull the enormous pile of garbage out of the river spirit. This scene gives a strong visual consequence of pollution, and by adding a spiritual element to it, gives another reason for sympathy. Environmentalism is referenced again when Haku turns out to be the spirit of the Kohaku River. Chihiro had fallen in the river when she was very small, and he had saved her. She tells him that the river was drained and built over, which is why Haku forgot his name and identity and entered his life of servitude to Yubaba. A major character’s life was ruined by a lack of reverence for nature.
    Chihiro and Haku remember how they know each other
    • I am appreciative that once again, romance is not the most important “goal” of the story, but what is most important is to just to show Chihiro’s maturing (though I do think the English dub pushed the “power of love” angle a bit too much). And really, I honestly feel uncomfortable thinking of Chihiro and Haku’s relationship as romantic. The characters mention that Chihiro loves him, but it’s a very shortsighted person who immediately concludes that the only definition of love between non-related people has to be romantic. She’s a little girl, he’s an immortal dragon spirit. There’s no way their relationship (if there even is one) can work – they’re better off as friends, just like Ashitaka and San. And really, who’s to say that Chihiro isn’t the type of person who just loves everyone? She’s shown to be a kind and generous person, and she even shows some degree of affection towards Yubaba.
    • It is fitting that the beginning of the film is about Chihiro and her family moving to a new home, as the major theme of the film is transition and change. Chihiro is just at the cusp of puberty – that awkward, rather unpleasant time where you are rapidly leaving childhood and you’re not sure what’s going to happen next. She starts out petulant and sullen as she hates having to leave her friends behind. And right from the beginning, we see how negligent and foolish her parents are, as they let Chihiro roll around in the backseat without a seatbelt (and her father drives around like a maniac!). It’s too late for her parents to learn anything, so Chihiro has to step up and be the responsible one. She has her moments of weakness, especially near the beginning when she repeatedly breaks down and cries, but this is a reasonable reaction for her. I’m (supposedly) an adult, and I’m not so sure I wouldn’t panic if I were in her situation. It’s very striking when Chihiro shows maturity – she remembers her manners again, she works hard without complaint, and she shows that she has a great intuitive ability. This is very deliberate, I suspect. Just like Chihiro’s parents, we often make the mistake of dismissing a child entirely because they’re a child. And little girls in particular seem to be dismissed and underestimated the most. Look at the crappy toys they get. “Here, honey, this is a plastic iron and ironing board so you can play at doing work! And here’s a doll that talks about nothing but shopping!” Miyazaki has given us a heroine that shows us just how strong and capable children can be – intellectually, emotionally, and physically.
    • The other characters go through a character arc of maturity and change as well, and likely as a result of meeting Chihiro. Haku starts off ambiguously – he confusingly shows great kindness and yet great coldness to Chihiro at the same time. But when he regains his name, and regains his freedom, his cold eyes become warm and affectionate. He starts off as a kind of saviour or guardian to Chihiro, which she repays by being a kind of saviour to him. Rin, the spirit that Chihiro assists in the bathhouse, very quickly goes from contempt to kindness as she gets to know Chihiro. Her third helper, Kamaji, starts off gruffly, but quickly goes well out of his way to help her, such as pretending that she’s his granddaughter, and even giving her train tickets that he had been saving for 40 years. These three characters who serve as her helpers all have one thing in common – they make a complete arc from rejecting Chihiro to totally embracing her.
    Chihiro passes by a mysterious stone statue
    • The twin sorceresses, Yubaba and Zeniba, also go through a character transition. Yubaba is apparently the villain of the story, as she steals Chihiro’s name and forces her to work for her parents’ freedom. And yet she is not entirely evil, (there’s that trademark Miyazaki moral ambiguity again) as she clearly loves her baby Boh, and even keeps her word to release Chihiro’s contract if she passes her test. She’s not a nice lady by any means, but when the story ends she doesn’t seem nearly as horrible as she did at the beginning. Boh himself goes through a fairly quick maturation, as he starts off as a coddled shut-in paranoid about germs, and ends up happily assisting Chihiro, and both figuratively and literally stands up to his mother. Zeniba… I have a little more trouble understanding. When we first see her, she’s clearly trying to kill Haku for stealing her golden seal. She also physically transforms all the creatures in Yubaba’s room, which seems to be a punishment against her sister. At that point, she is not only physically identical to Yubaba, but identical in personality as well. So it is pretty jarring for her to be suddenly sweet and grandmotherly to Chihiro when they meet. She’s still kind of brusque, but definitely a complete transformation from her introduction. I’ve never entirely been able to figure it out. There’s a theory that Yubaba and Zeniba are two halves of the same person (which is hinted at when Chihiro calls both of them “Granny”), which sort of gives an explanation…but it’s hard to wrap my mind around.
    • The whole movie is kind of a mind screw, really, and I don’t think that’s entirely because I’m mostly unfamiliar with Japanese mythology. When I finished rewatching it yesterday, I had more questions than answers. I cannot take credit for this observation, but my mind was blown when it was pointed out how different the entrance to the tunnel was at the beginning and the end of the film. At the end, the red paint has worn off. The tunnel has been covered in ivy. The cobblestones are covered with grass. The foliage is thicker. And the little stone statue has been eroded by weather. Chihiro’s father points out that there are leaves all over the car, and dust inside it. But just how long were they trapped inside the spirit world? It seemed like less than a week to Chihiro’s perspective, but it has obviously been much longer than that. All of those changes from beginning to end suggest that they were in there for decades. Time and space clearly have no meaning there (for one thing, the day/night schedule is flipped), because why would it matter to something immortal and immaterial? But then the horror hit me. What happened when they arrived at their new home? At the very least, this family has been missing for a week. Pretty heavy implications there.
    • I have other questions too, not just about the period of time and ambiguity of Zeniba’s character. Is Boh actually Yubaba’s baby? How long has he been a baby? What do the bathhouse workers actually look like (their humanoid appearance is obviously not natural)? What will happen to Haku, since the river that he represents is gone? Did cleaning the polluted river spirit actually clean the river itself? Were Chihiro’s parents genuinely being gluttonous, or were they enchanted to act that way? How did it become nighttime so quickly after Chihiro’s family crossed into the spirit world in broad daylight? Were Chihiro’s family the only humans who stumbled into the spirit world, or have there been others? (The tunnel’s not all that well hidden, after all!) But the fact that I want all these answers tells me that this is the mark of a film with rich world-building, and a film that shows rather than tells. When I woke up this morning, I thought I didn’t have as much to say about Spirited Away. And yet, here I am babbling for 2100 words. That’s the sign of a film that is special.  


      Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.

      Miyazaki Month: Princess Mononoke

      Written by Myrna Waldron.

      You will find few well-known directors as overtly feminist as Hayao Miyazaki. Of the 10 films he has directed, only two, The Castle of Cagliostro & Porco Rosso, have male protagonists. The others have dual male and female protagonists (Castle In The Sky, Princess Mononoke, Howl’s Moving Castle and Ponyo) or female protagonists (Nausicaa, My Neighbour Totoro, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Spirited Away). And not only are many of the main characters in his films female, they are also well rounded, realistically flawed, and given a great deal of agency in their stories. When I think of the Strong Female Character feminist media critics are always hoping for, I think of Miyazaki’s characters first.

      For the month of May, I will be writing about 4 films directed by Hayao Miyazaki: Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away, Howl’s Moving Castle and Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. The first three are my personal favourites of his work, and it will be my first time watching Nausicaa. It is my plan not only to discuss feminist aspects of the films, but also to discuss other themes/messages present in Miyazaki’s work (environmentalism and pacifism most commonly) and to compare the Disney/Miramax English dubs of the films to the original Japanese dialogue.

      The Deer God gives life and takes life away

      Princess Mononoke was the first Hayao Miyazaki film I watched. It came out a couple of years after Sailor Moon had introduced me to anime, and all of my nerdy peers were excited about the film because it was by this great, talented animator, and in Japan the film was even more popular than Titanic. It was refreshing for me to watch an animated film with complex themes, moral ambiguities and some decidedly un-kid friendly violence. I was already fascinated by animation, and Princess Mononoke showed me just how broad a medium it could be.

      This is why I found the comparisons of Hayao Miyazaki to American films & filmmakers particularly frustrating. He’s been called “The Walt Disney of Japan,” which, frankly, reeks of a statement by someone who doesn’t really understand or respect animation that much. About all the two have in common is that they directed critically acclaimed animated films. Miyazaki’s films are steeped in Japanese culture and mythology, Disney’s films are distinctly American (even when they’re adapting other cultures’ stories). One particularly annoying thing is on the original Princess Mononoke DVD release, they’ve got the usual banal blurbs from film reviewers that marketers insist on ruining their DVD art with. But the quote they chose baffles me. “The Star Wars of animated features!” says The New York Post. I know the Post is a goddamn travesty of a newspaper, but what does that even mean? What does a film about Japanese mythology, environmentalism and industrial progress have to do with giant spaceships and lightsabers? (Best that I can come up with is that they’re both films popular with nerds.)

      Sigh. Anyway, here are my observations about Princess Mononoke:

      The first glimpse of San
      • I was able to simultaneously compare the English dub script (written by Neil Gaiman, a name that should be familiar to any fantasy literature fan) with the Japanese script by having the audio be in English and the subtitles be a literal translation of the Japanese script. For the most part, Gaiman’s adaptation was very accurate (which is what Disney promised Studio Ghibli upon offering to distribute their work in North America), and he was able to convey the general meaning of most of the dialogue. There were some parts I was disappointed with, however. There was a lot more exposition in the English dialogue, especially in the opening narration, which makes me feel like the people in charge of the English adaptation didn’t trust their audience. Ashitaka’s dialogue kind of had a Captain Obvious element to it, as well. In one scene, he wakes up, sees his demon scar is still on his hand, and says “The scar’s still there,” as if we can’t tell. In the Japanese script, he said nothing, just sighed. The biggest loss in this adaptation was that a great deal of Japanese culture – geography, history and mythology – was removed from the English script (especially from Jiko’s dialogue). I imagine this was done to help localize the setting for a Western audience, but it seemed a bit disrespectful, considering how distinctly Japanese Miyazaki’s films are. Gaiman also made the inexplicable choice of changing the Deer God’s name to “Forest Spirit.” I suppose Forest Spirit sounds a bit more poetic and more-or-less describes the Deer God’s role, but considering the other large animals are referred to as Gods, and the Deer God is a DEER, why the change?
      • The marketing for the initial DVD release sucks. I have mentioned the bizarre “Star Wars of animated features!” reviewer blurb. Another problem is that they gave the film the world’s most cliched and inaccurate tagline. “The fate of the world rests on the courage of one warrior.” First off, it’s not the world, it’s just that particular area of Japan. Second, the fate of the “world” doesn’t just rest on Ashitaka’s shoulders, it is equally San’s burden too, AND the people of both the forest and Irontown. Don’t give Ashitaka all the credit. The DVD artwork is pretty boring too – a picture of Ashitaka in a sword fight, which paints the film as more action-oriented than it actually is. And note that the title character, Princess Mononoke/San, doesn’t even appear on the cover. She’s just given a small section of the back cover that she shares with Eboshi, and her mouth is wide open in it! She does appear on the cover artwork for DVD releases for other markets, which, unfortunately, yet again shows how little female characters matter to North American marketers.
      • Ashitaka as a protagonist isn’t nearly as interesting as the other characters. I get that he’s meant to be both the audience surrogate and a neutral party between the endless war between the beings of the forest and the residents of Irontown. But he doesn’t seem to have any of the fascinating flaws that the other characters have. His mission is to see the truth with eyes unclouded by hatred, which he tries to stick to, but his cursed scar has other ideas. The scar’s super strength forcing him to dismember his attackers seems to be the only flaw Ashitaka has, and it’s not even a natural flaw. He seems to exist mostly as a mouthpiece for pacifism – he continually asks the forest dwellers and the people why they can’t live in peace, and refuses to accept their cynical answers. His complete goodness in a story full of moral ambiguities makes him seem like he doesn’t even belong in his own tale.
      • San, on the other hand, fascinates me. As the adopted human child of a Wolf God mother, she is both human and animal, and neither human nor animal at the same time. She has grown up hating humans, as her mother Moro has witnessed them acting as selfish and disrespectful beings that continuously defile her forest. The first time Ashitaka sees her, she is sucking the blood out of a wound Moro has suffered in an attempt to get at the iron bullet within her. She is wild, defiant, and free. She continually tries to reject her own humanity – her war mask is grotesque, and when she is at war, she considers herself an animal. A female protagonist with complete agency, she makes several difficult moral choices throughout the film and drives her own story forward. Like many of the other characters, her morals are in shades of grey. We can sympathize with her fervent desire to save the forest which has been the only home she has ever known. Less sympathetic is her tendency to blame all humans for the actions of a few, and her obsession with executing Lady Eboshi.
      • Unlike how other films present love stories, San and Ashitaka’s relationship subverts all the cliches. Notably, he does not get the girl, because she is a being in control of her own life, and not a prize to be won. They agree to part as friends, because she cannot forgive humans for what they have done to her forest. He accepts this, and tells her that he will help the people rebuild Irontown, and also promises to visit her whenever he can. This is the best possible outcome for their relationship, for if San were to be with him, she would be rejecting the animal side of her, and it is so ingrained in her, body and soul, that she would be giving up a part of herself. Another important aspect of their bittersweet love story is that, rather than San’s actions being influenced by her relationship with Ashitaka, it is HIS actions that are influenced by his knowing her. That reversal of gender roles is itself remarkable.
      San vs. Lady Eboshi
      • Lady Eboshi is another well-rounded female character who is just as fascinating as San. On the positive side, she is a genius tactician, a revered leader to the people of Irontown, and a compassionate and generous benefactor to those most vulnerable. And yet she is also realistically flawed, as she is greedy, overconfident, and sometimes smug. To have won the respect and deference of everyone in Irontown, men included, already makes her unusual, and she is an interesting example of a capable woman in a position of leadership. It is initially implied that Eboshi is an antagonist, for it was she who killed the God Nago, and it was because Nago became a demon that Ashitaka was cursed in the first place. Yet as we meet her, she very quickly becomes just as sympathetic and just as morally ambiguous as San. As the men in the village tell Ashitaka, she has bought up the contract of every brothel girl she can find, which has incredible feminist implications. Whatever your personal opinions are of sex workers, Eboshi has saved these women from a very hard life, and granted them more agency than they ever would have had normally. She was also the only person to treat lepers with kindness and compassion, as she washed them, cleaned their wounds, and gave them employment and a purpose for living. And yet, on the other hand, she ambitiously wants to clear the entire forest so that she can transform it into one of the richest lands in Japan. She also knows full well of the destructive capabilities of the guns and flares that the lepers design for her, and uses them ruthlessly against both the forest animals and invading samurai warriors.
      • Irontown seems to have developed an almost matriarchal society as a result of Lady Eboshi’s influence. Not only is she the undisputed leader of the people, it is the women of the town that drive the economy. The men do the trading, mining and warring, and the women pump the bellows of the ironworks and defend the village from attackers. Together, they have made Irontown incredibly prosperous. Eboshi fears humans (particularly men) far more than she fears Gods, so she specifically requests that the lepers design guns light enough for the women to wield. Eboshi has more than enough reason to fear men in this case, as Lord Asano’s samurai continuously attack the village, and she specifically rescues brothel girls to prevent them from having to submit to the worst kind of men. She has given these former brothel girls a tremendous amount of freedom and agency. They have a great purpose and pride in their work, choose their own husbands, do not have to conceal their sexualities, and have as much input on how Irontown is run as anyone else does. Here, under Lady Eboshi, the women are equal.
      • The most important theme in the film, by far, is its message of environmentalism. Because the film takes place hundreds of years in the past, we feel the modern tragedy that what the Gods feared most did come to pass – the forests and their spirits have all but disappeared because of the onslaught of consumerism, industrialism, and capitalism. It emphasizes that there must be a balance – each side has to be willing to give something to survive, and that living together in peace is the best solution for everyone.
      • There are a lot of fascinating dichotomies at play in this story – animal vs. human, nature vs. industry, spiritual vs. secular, life vs. death, war vs. peace, men vs. women, etc. Most interestingly, we are not meant to pick a “side” in any of these dichotomies, but are meant to understand that there are reasons for everything in the world. Morality is not black and white. Even the most pressing dichotomy, nature vs. industry, doesn’t have a clear “side” expressed in the film. Letting the forest thrive and not destroying it is preferable, but the people of Irontown have to eat, and have to sustain their economy somehow. It’s a difficult choice, and the film respects its audience enough not to make it for them.
      Princess Mononoke is a fascinating film with many layers of dichotomies, moral ambiguities, and complex themes. In the eternal battle of men vs. women, this film posits a strong message of equality, and of both men and women working together. Notably, in the climax of the film, it is both San and Ashitaka who return the Deer God’s head – they are equals working together, and without each other, they could not have saved everyone. And out of the death that the headless Night Stalker caused, it granted life instead. Life and death are as natural as everything else. The film also explicitly argues that there should be a balance between economic industry and preservation of nature. Human beings have to survive, but animal beings must survive as well. Princess Mononoke is a masterpiece of animation, and an overtly feminist themed media. Its strong female characters are given agency, dignity, independence from men, and realistic flaws. Everything that a feminist media critic hopes for.

      ———-

      Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.

      Let’s Re-Brand "Disney Princesses" as "Disney Heroines"

      Written by Robin Hitchcock
      A piece of fan art and the particularities of French to English translation may have solved our Disney Princess problem: 
      Disney Heroines Simple Lines, by David Gilson
      Feminist parents (and grandparents and aunts and uncles and siblings) often worry about their young girls getting sucked into Disney Princess culture, and not just because of the intimidating price tags at the Disney store. We don’t want our kids growing up with female role models solely labelled with the coveted status of “princess,” and therefore defined by their relationships with men (be they fathers or husbands), and admired largely for their status over others. It’s pretty much the last thing a feminist would want for their kids. 
      A more typical (but still very clever) piece of fan art depicting
      Disney Princesses as cover models on women’s magazines. Artist unknown.
      However, criticism of Disney Princess culture often overlooks that Disney has created a battalion of strong female characters who are in fact fantastic role models for children, particularly since the dawn of the Disney Renaissance. 
      There’s a recurring theme of headstrong rebellion against societal expectations (Ariel, Jasmine, Mulan, Merida), which might sound a little scary from a parenting point of view but is certainly a vital part of a developing feminist consciousness. Disney Heroines are accepting of people their peers reject and other because of their differences (Belle, Pocahontas, Esmerelda, Jane). And Disney Heroines are self-assured even though they themselves can be awkward and not really fit in (Ariel, Belle, Mulan, Lilo, Rapunzel), even when they are actively scorned by society (Esmerelda, Vanellope Von Schweets). 
      Particularly in the most recent films, Disney Heroines expressly have their own interests, skills, and goals completely unrelated to romance and social status (Tiana, Sgt. Calhoun). And they’re smart and sassy and lovable (pretty much all of them, but I just want to give a special shout-out to my homegirl Megara). 
      These are characters we should want our kids to be obsessed with. Shifting from “Disney Princesses” to “Disney Heroines” widens the field on a semantic level to include a lot more fantastic characters, but more importantly highlights what really makes these women special. It’s not their status as princesses; it is who they are.
      ———–
      Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town, South Africa. Disney movies are her favorite cold medicine, hangover cure, and anti-depressant.

      Bart Simpson’s Feminine Side

      Written by Lady T.  

      Bart Simpson appreciating some gay culture

      In my umpteenth viewing of episodes from season four of The Simpsons, I noticed something that never occurred to me in my first viewings of the show: Bart Simpson has a feminine side.
      This shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. An episode in the eighth season, “Homer’s Phobia,” shows Bart becoming appreciative of gay culture (much to Homer’s dismay) after the family befriends a delightful gay man named John. The episode has an important lesson where Homer learns a lesson about acceptance, but Bart’s development isn’t explored in detail, as his appreciation of gay culture is just a catalyst for Homer’s (temporary) growth as a person.
      Earlier (and later) episodes, though, show that Bart’s feminine side is more than just a passing trend. It’s a trait that appears sporadically during the series, and is amusing every time.
      In “Lisa the Beauty Queen,” Bart shows his little sister how to walk in heels for the competition. When Lisa asks Bart if he really thinks she could win, he strikes a pose and says, “Hey, I’m starting to think I could win!”

      Heel, toe, heel, toe…
      In “Marge in Chains,” Bart shares his plan to break his mother out of prison: “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll bust you out of there as soon as I get a cocktail dress and a crowbar.” Then we see Bart’s dream sequence of dancing with the warden, who says, “Oh, Bartina — before I met you, I was a lonely man.”
      [True story: I watched that episode with my roommate when she was resting on the couch with a sprained ankle, and she laughed so hard that she almost fell off the couch and sprained it again.]

      “Fresh!”
      Two seasons later, Bart reluctantly signs up for ballet class when there are no other P.E. electives available. He’s not happy about wearing tights or being in a sport “for girls,” but he soon realizes that he has a talent for ballet — and loves it!

      “Put on this fuschiatard! You are a fairy.”

      Several seasons afterwards, Bart and Milhouse raid his parents’ closet when they have nothing else to do, and when Milhouse suggests they “dress like ladies,” Bart quickly notices that his mother’s dress hides his thighs, and soon they’re jumping on his parents’ bed.

      “Sisters doin’ it for themselves!”
      Clearly, Bart’s feminine side is more than just a one-episode gag or a prompt for Homer to get over his phobia. It’s a recurring character trait. But what does it mean?
      Probably not much when considering the writers’ intents. The writers of The Simpsons are fond of having characters act in unexpected ways, where the punchline is simply the character acting out of character (Nelson loving Andy Williams, Jimbo being a fan of The Joy Luck Club, Ned Flanders having lax beatnik parents). Bart knowing the “ancient art of padding” is funny because we wouldn’t expect him to know about it.
      Still, writer intent aside, I love the moments where Bart slips on a pair of heels, dons a dress, or fantasizes about seducing a warden to get Marge out of jail. Even a character who prides himself on being America’s bad boy has a girly side.
      ———-

      Lady T is an a writer and aspiring comedian with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at The Funny Feminist, where she picks apart entertainment and reviews movies she hasn’t seen.

      Bart Simpson’s Feminine Side

      Written by Lady T.  

      Bart Simpson appreciating some gay culture

      In my umpteenth viewing of episodes from season four of The Simpsons, I noticed something that never occurred to me in my first viewings of the show: Bart Simpson has a feminine side.
      This shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. An episode in the eighth season, “Homer’s Phobia,” shows Bart becoming appreciative of gay culture (much to Homer’s dismay) after the family befriends a delightful gay man named John. The episode has an important lesson where Homer learns a lesson about acceptance, but Bart’s development isn’t explored in detail, as his appreciation of gay culture is just a catalyst for Homer’s (temporary) growth as a person.
      Earlier (and later) episodes, though, show that Bart’s feminine side is more than just a passing trend. It’s a trait that appears sporadically during the series, and is amusing every time.
      In “Lisa the Beauty Queen,” Bart shows his little sister how to walk in heels for the competition. When Lisa asks Bart if he really thinks she could win, he strikes a pose and says, “Hey, I’m starting to think I could win!”

      Heel, toe, heel, toe…
      In “Marge in Chains,” Bart shares his plan to break his mother out of prison: “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll bust you out of there as soon as I get a cocktail dress and a crowbar.” Then we see Bart’s dream sequence of dancing with the warden, who says, “Oh, Bartina — before I met you, I was a lonely man.”
      [True story: I watched that episode with my roommate when she was resting on the couch with a sprained ankle, and she laughed so hard that she almost fell off the couch and sprained it again.]

      “Fresh!”
      Two seasons later, Bart reluctantly signs up for ballet class when there are no other P.E. electives available. He’s not happy about wearing tights or being in a sport “for girls,” but he soon realizes that he has a talent for ballet — and loves it!

      “Put on this fuschiatard! You are a fairy.”

      Several seasons afterwards, Bart and Milhouse raid his parents’ closet when they have nothing else to do, and when Milhouse suggests they “dress like ladies,” Bart quickly notices that his mother’s dress hides his thighs, and soon they’re jumping on his parents’ bed.

      “Sisters doin’ it for themselves!”
      Clearly, Bart’s feminine side is more than just a one-episode gag or a prompt for Homer to get over his phobia. It’s a recurring character trait. But what does it mean?
      Probably not much when considering the writers’ intents. The writers of The Simpsons are fond of having characters act in unexpected ways, where the punchline is simply the character acting out of character (Nelson loving Andy Williams, Jimbo being a fan of The Joy Luck Club, Ned Flanders having lax beatnik parents). Bart knowing the “ancient art of padding” is funny because we wouldn’t expect him to know about it.
      Still, writer intent aside, I love the moments where Bart slips on a pair of heels, dons a dress, or fantasizes about seducing a warden to get Marge out of jail. Even a character who prides himself on being America’s bad boy has a girly side.
      ———-

      Lady T is a writer with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at www.theresabasile.com.

      When Life Gives You Infertility, Make Your House Fly: Found Family in ‘UP’

      Carl and Ellie in their home
      This is a guest post written by Talia Liben Yarmush for our theme week on Infertility, Miscarriage, and Infant Loss.

      Pixar’s UP begins with young Carl, an adventure-admiring, imaginative boy meeting his match in young Ellie. The two hit it off instantly with their shared interest in everything adventure, and the first eleven and a half minutes are an ode to their lifelong mutual devotion to each other. They become fast friends; they fall in love, marry, and build a life together. The only thing missing? After Ellie suffers a miscarriage, the two are immeasurably saddened by the loss of this baby. In an attempt to fill the void, Carl establishes an “Adventure Fund,” so that together they may one day be able to live what they always dreamed. However, with each passing year comes a new obstacle, requiring them to deplete their funds over and over again. Until one day, Ellie, old and weak, dies. And Carl is left alone with sadness and regret at not giving Ellie her big adventure. When I saw UP in the theater, I was sitting next to my husband, a man I met when I was 14, became best friends with, married, and was now going through infertility treatments with. So, this intro hit pretty close to home.

      As I see it, the two infertility themes in this story are miscarriage and living childfree. Despite my vast experience with infertility, I am not personally familiar with either of these. I have, thankfully, never had a miscarriage (although during one very painful episode of endometrial bleeding, my husband and I were sure that I was in the midst of one), and thanks to IVF, I now have two sons. I can tell you that the first theme, miscarriage, is shown in only seconds, and it is a scene that will remain with you throughout the entire film. In thirty seconds, this animated family film is able to portray the loss in such a visceral way that even if you have never had an experience like it, you will be brought to tears. And I can tell you that the second theme, living childfree, is complicated and filled with mixed emotions. Carl, tormented by his inability to give his wife what she wanted, finally realizes by the end of the film that Ellie’s life with him was her adventure, and that she was happy with it. Many couples must make the difficult decision whether to keep trying, to continue fertility treatments, to hope that the next cycle works, that the next pregnancy sticks, to attempt adoption, or to somehow find a way to come to terms with a life without children. Some couples make this decision. But for some, the decision is made for them.

      Carl and Ellie prepare the nursery for their baby
      The question is what to do once that decision has been made. Once an infertile couple mourns the loss of a life without children and finds peace with their new reality, can the void ever be filled by something or someone else? Ellie, as we learn, was happy and satisfied with the life she lived with Carl. But once Ellie died, Carl was left alone. No children. Just memories and unfounded regret. Until he meets Russell. Russell reminds Carl of the boy he once was, and of the girl he married. He reminds him of the family he wanted with Ellie, and of the adventures they’d hoped to go on. Some view Russell as the child that Carl never had. In fact, we find out that Russell himself has an absent father, so Russell was searching for a father just as much as Carl was searching for a son. But I don’t see it in those terms. Russell is a friend, he is a companion, he is a playmate. Russell is Carl’s family. Because we don’t always get to live the life that we had planned. But we do get to choose a great many things. We can choose to keep on fighting for what we want. Or we can choose to make peace with the lives that we have. And, most importantly, we can choose our family, even if we can’t create them ourselves.
      ———-

      Talia Liben Yarmush is a freelance writer and editor. She is also an infertile mother who writes her own blog, The Accidental Typist.

      Foreign Film Week: Magical Girlhoods in the Films of Studio Ghibli

      Guest post written by Rosalind Kemp, previously appeared at Bitch Flicks on November 30, 2011.

      “For the people who used to be ten years old, and the people who are going to be ten years old.”

      — Director Hayao Miyazaki on Spirited Away

      The films of Studio Ghibli provide their viewers with a rich variety of female characters from warrior princesses to love-struck adolescents, curious toddlers to powerful witches. These characters owe a great deal to the prototypes of European fairy tales and Japanese folklore and in many ways are traditional versions and depictions of femininities, but there’s an underlying sense of joy for feminist viewers in that these girls and women are active, subjective and thoroughly engaging. I’m focusing here on young girls in the lighter end of Ghibli’s production including sisters Mei and Satsuke in My Neighbour Totoro, Kiki in Kiki’s Delivery Service and Chihiro in Spirited Away.

      Spirited Away

      Ghibli films tend to blend fantasy and reality so that magic and flight are acceptable parts of the worlds the characters inhabit. Girls especially tend to possess magic powers or particular appreciation of them and this is shown in an unexceptional manner. While Kiki raises some eyebrows in her new town, it’s because the townsfolk don’t see many witches, not because they don’t believe in their existence. Similarly, although Kiki is an outsider, there is a distinct lack of threat to her for being so. In Ghibli worlds girls are fully entitled to fly on broomsticks, as long as they don’t congest traffic, and 13 year olds are allowed to pursue their cultural practices of living alone. In My Neighbour Totoro when Mei tells Satsuke and their father about her encounter with Totoro, after initial disbelief they embrace the truth that there are friendly nature spirits in the area, even leading to father taking the girls to pay their respects to the forest’s deities.

      This acceptance of magic is refreshing and marks a clear difference to American cartoons where ironic references are embedded in children’s fantasy to appeal to parents. In this way parents are encouraged to indulge, but secretly laugh at their children’s engagement with fantasy. There’s no knowing irony in Ghibli films, instead they are focussed on telling children’s stories for children and the lack of distinct boundaries between the magic and the mundane are part of this child-centred view. That the protagonists are predominantly female makes for a collection of films focussed on girls’ adventures and triumphs where girls’ experiences are trusted and valued.

      Children, like women, are often depicted as having a close connection to the supernatural; that they can see things the rest of us cannot. Indeed Mei and Satsuke seem privileged more than anything to be invited to join the Totoros’ night-time nature ritual. Dancing and flying with creatures the rest of the world (the Ghibli world at least) would revere but aren’t lucky enough to encounter. Chihiro doesn’t have a natural affinity for magic but she’s gifted in the solving of magical problems like how to clean a dirty river spirit.

      Mei, Satsuke, Kiki and Chihiro all work within the magical world as part of their quest narratives. Mei and Satsuke are dealing with the illness and potential death of their mother and a move to a new home. Kiki has moved away from her parents according to witch culture and Chihiro seeks the return of her parents from the spiritual realm where she’s been trapped and they’ve been turned into pigs.

      My Neighbor Totoro
      In all three stories there’s also the seeking of identity for the girls, especially and most literally for Chihiro for she has her very name stolen by a witch. In their quests for self-hood and identity all four characters go through similar trials and experiences: the absence of parental influence, the access to magical powers, the physical manifestations of anxieties such as the dust bunnies that feature in both My Neighbour Totoro and Spirited Away.

      The absence of parents is a common way to allow independence to young females from fairy tales to Jane Austen and unlike for orphaned boys in fiction it can also represent a removal of patriarchal influence in general. It’s not just that these girls don’t have parents guiding them or checking up on them; they are also free to create their own rules of engagement with the world.

      One way that all four girls find meaning and self is through work. Satsuke in school and house work, Mei despite being very young does gardening, Kiki sets up her delivery service and Chihiro works in the bath house. All of them do a lot of cleaning. There’s an interesting mix of public and private here and certainly the suggestion that domestic labour can be especially rewarding (for example Kiki’s paid work can provide anxieties and problems). But is the culturally feminine nature of this work an issue? In Chihiro’s case cleaning is linked to subservience and being a captive to the domestic but for the others (and eventually for her) it’s a tool of empowerment and liberation. Does such labour inevitably have negative associations of female drudgery?

      Another way that selfhood and identity is achieved by these girls is by flight. Most obviously for Kiki where her broomstick is literally the means of earning a living and saving a friend’s life but also in how Totoro and Cat Bus fly Mei and Satsuke away from their worries and later to their mother. Chihiro’s flight is more anxious, as her encounters with magic are generally, but still serves to move her closer to self discovery by being the time she gives Haku his name so leading her to the rediscovery of her own.

      Kiki’s Delivery Service
      Work as empowerment isn’t the only moral message in these films, with ecological messages also being played out. In My Neighbour Totoro there’s the idyllic agricultural setting as well as the Totoros and other spirits of the forest. In Spirited Away rivers like Haku’s have been filled in because of the greed of humans. The messages of conservation, respect of nature (and blaming of humans as nature’s destroyers) are not as forcefully applied as in, for example, Princess Mononoke but neither are they subtle. While this preaching could be tiresome in other films, because of their earnestness and how the protagonists are fully on message it’s actually pleasant. Although nurturing the planet back to health is presented as an ungendered activity the films together can be viewed as showing the next generation of empowered young women actively making progress and solutions to the problems inflicted on the world by older generations. This also applies economically where Kiki and Chihiro’s enterprising labours lead to success for both. Chihiro especially is placed at the beginning of the film in the context of a Japan after economic downturn and reckless financial behaviour by her elders (as reported by her father) damaging Japan as a whole and its youth implicitly.

      Not everybody believes that Ghibli heroines represent empowered femininities. I’ve been rather selective in the choice of films to cover but even if I’d widened the selection I stand by my view. Ponyo for example wasn’t included as its heroine isn’t really a girl but although it’s a variation on the disempowering The Little Mermaid the core message is rather different. Ponyo accepts a loss of powers because they were never entirely hers and the sea’s power remains with the feminine; Ponyo’s sea-goddess mother.

      There’s been significant note of the glimpses of knickers we get in Ghibli films like when Kiki is flying and generally when there’s any rough and tumble. There’s merit in the argument that this could be voyeuristic representations of young girls but it can also be seen as further expressing their freedom and activity. These girls don’t worry about skirts riding up because they totally lack vanity and are preoccupied with altogether more important missions. We’re not given alluring peeps at nubile bodies but girls in action which female bodies so rarely are; that gaze is usually reserved for male bodies. If female passivity is alluring then the kinetic energy of these girls places them beyond that.

      What’s pleasurable about these films from a feminist perspective is their alliance with joyful, engaged and active girlhoods. These girls don’t wait for princes and don’t focus on their appearances but determinedly pursue their missions, however difficult.

      ———-
      Rosalind Kemp is a film studies graduate living in Brighton, UK. She’s particularly interested in female coming of age stories, film noir and European films where people talk a lot but not much happens.

      2013 Oscar Week: ‘Brave’ and the Legacy of Female Prepubescent Power Fantasies

      Written by Amanda Rodriguez.
      I liked Disney Pixar’s Brave well enough. It’s pretty enough. It’s a story about a mother and daughter, and there was no romance, both of which are nice; though, as I’ll show, neither are as uncommon as they might initially appear. I didn’t find the feminist qualities of this movie to be particularly impressive. Brave is actually situated within a somewhat prolific trope of female prepubescent power fantasy tales. Within this trope, young girls are allowed and even encouraged to be strong, assertive, creative, and heroes of their own stories. I call them “feminism lite” because these characters are only afforded this power because they are girl children who are unthreatening in their prepubescent, pre-sexualized state.
      Let’s consider a few examples.
      First, we’ve got Matilda, a film based on the eponymous novel by Roald Dahl. This story is about a genius six-year-old girl who realizes she has telekinetic powers. Matilda is brave and kind to those who deserve it and punishes authority figures who take advantage of their positions of power. This story, similar to Brave, is about the budding (surrogate) mother/daughter relationship between Matilda and her kindergarten teacher, Miss Honey. They find idyllic happiness at the end of the film when they adopt each other to form their own little family.
      “I can feel the strongness. I feel like I can move almost anything in the world.” – Matilda
      Then there’s Harriet the Spy, based on the book by Louise Fitzhugh, about an inquisitive, imaginative girl who learns the power of her voice and how her words affect others. Another potent mother/daughter bond is featured between Harriet and her nanny, Golly.
      “You’re an individual, and that makes people nervous. And it’s gonna keep making people nervous for the rest of your life.” – Golly
      We can’t forget Pippi Longstocking, based on the book series by Astrid Lindgren. Pippi is independent and adventurous with a slew of fantastical stories. She also has incredible physical strength, exotic pets, and teaches her friends Tommy and Annika that just because the trio are children, doesn’t mean experiences and desires should be denied them.
      “I’m Pippilotta Delicatessa Windowshade Longstocking, daughter of Captain Efraim Longstocking, Pippi for short.” – Pippi
      There’s also Whale Rider based on the book by Witi Ihimaera. Pai is a determined young girl who wants to become the chief of her Māori tribe, but that is forbidden because she’s a girl. With wisdom and vision, Pai strives to unite and lead her people into the future. She is dedicated, stubborn and perseveres, showing she has the uncanny spiritual ability to speak with (and ride) whales.
      “My name is Paikea Apirana, and I come from a long line of chiefs…I know that our people will keep going forward, all together, with all of our strength.” – Pai
      One of my personal favorites is Pan’s Labyrinth (or El Labertino del Fauno meaning “The Labyrinth of the Faun” in Spanish). Interestingly, Pan’s Labyrinth is the first on our list that wasn’t based on a book, as it was written and directed by Guillermo del Toro. The film takes place in post Civil War Spain with young Ofelia as our heroine. She is forced to live with her fascist captain stepfather who hunts down rebels while her mother languishes in a difficult pregnancy. Totally isolated, Ofelia retreats into a dark fantasy world replete with fairies, fauns, and child-eating monsters. In this world (that may or may not truly exist), she is a long-lost immortal underworld princess trying to make her way home. Throughout the tale, Ofelia forms a strong connection with Merecedes, a kitchen maid who is not only secretly a rebel spy, but is brave and crazy badass. Ofelia is intelligent, defiant, loyal, and ultimately self-sacrificing. 
      “Hello. I am Princess Moanna, and I am not afraid of you.” – Ofelia
      All of these stories validate young female agency because all these girls are prepubescent. They are too young and too physically underdeveloped to be objectified or vilified for their sexuality. There are tales that continue to advocate for the empowerment of their slightly older heroines despite their budding sexuality. These are pseudo coming-of-age films. I say “pseudo” here because the main characters don’t actually become sexual beings.
      A great contemporary example of a pseudo coming-of-age tale is the action-thriller Hanna, starring the talented Saoirse Ronan as a 14-year-old CIA experiment with enhanced DNA to make her the optimal weapon. She is trained in arctic isolation and is therefore unsocialized and unschooled in the ways of the world. Most of the film centers around her mission to kill Cate Blanchett’s evil CIA agent character, Marissa. However, there is an interlude when Hanna befriends brash young Sophie who is eager to grow up. The two sneak out and go dancing, and a boy kisses Hanna. Our young heroine is at first intrigued and even enraptured by the experience, but she ends up knocking the boy to the ground and nearly breaking his neck. Later, there is also sexual tension between Hanna and Sophie as the two lie next to each other in a tent, falling asleep, but nothing comes of it. These are examples of Hanna’s awakening sexuality, which the film insinuates may ultimately be terrifying in its power and lack of boundaries. Hanna, though, is still young and chooses her father and his indoctrination over her own self-discovery.  
      “Kissing requires a total of thirty-four facial muscles.” – Hanna
      Not to forget Jim Hanson’s classic Labyrinth starring Jennifer Connelly as Sarah, a teenager who is enthralled by the fantasy of the Labyrinth along with its alluring goblin king, Jereth (aka David Bowie in an impressive Tina Turner mullet wig). Sarah withdraws from her family, yearning for adventure and romance while hating her obligation to babysit her “screaming baby” brother, Toby, so she calls on the goblin king to take the boy away. She then spends the rest of the movie trying to get the toddler back. Jareth attempts to seduce her into forgetting the child and being his goblin queen, which is what Sarah initially wanted, but, in the end, she chooses her family and fantastical goblin friends over love, romance, and her sexuality. When she says to her goblin friends, “I need you; I need you all,” she is affirming that she’s not ready for adulthood and wants to remain a child a bit longer. Her intact innocence is what allows her to be uncomplicatedly triumphant, to assert her equality with and independence from Jareth.
      “For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great. You have no power over me!” – Sarah
      To be empowered, all the aforementioned heroines must remain perpetually young, fixed forever in their prepubescent state within the reels of their films. Once our heroines become sexual teens, their power is overwhelmingly defined by their sexuality, and/or their worth is determined by their body’s objectification. In fact, many of these tales are no longer fantasies, but horror movies (or movies that have horror qualities) that demonize female sexual awakenings. 

      I don’t even want to disgrace the hallowed web pages of Bitch Flicks with an obvious account of the worthless Twilight series that equates female sexuality with death and advocates teen pregnancy over reproductive rights. However, Bella is a prime example of a young woman whose own self-value is dependent on how the male characters view her. She is the apex of a noxious love triangle, and her desirability defines her, creating the entire basis of the poorly acted, poorly produced saga.

      “It’s like diamonds…you’re beautiful.” – Bella re: Edward’s sparkly skin. Gag, Puke, Retch

      Ginger Snaps clearly fits the mold of the vilification of budding female sexuality. Ginger gets her period for the first time and is therefore attacked by a werewolf. The attack has rape connotations, implying that Ginger wouldn’t have been as enticing to the wolf if she weren’t yet sexual, especially since her mousy sister Brigitte is spared. Ginger goes through a series of changes, becoming sexually aggressive and promiscuous. When she has unprotected sex with a boy, turning him into a werewolf, this further underscores the connection between Ginger’s monstrous lycanthropy and her unchecked sexuality. There’s also a great deal of sexual tension between Ginger and her sister, Brigitte, suggesting that her sexuality is boundless and therefore frightening.  


      “I get this ache…and I, I thought it was for sex, but it’s to tear everything to fucking pieces.” – Ginger

      Lastly, we have the pseudo-feminist film Teeth about a young girl who grows teeth on her vagina (vagina dentata style). Our teenage heroine, Dawn, is in one of those Christian abstinence/purity clubs, and everything is fine until she becomes attracted to and makes out with a boy. The film punishes her for her newfound sexuality and mocks her abstinence vow by having the boy rape her. Dawn’s vagina then bites off his penis. Over the course of the movie, Dawn is essentially sexually assaulted four times. Four times. She is degraded from the beginning of the film to the very end. Her supposedly empowerful teeth-laden vagina is a dubious gift, considering she generally must be raped in order to use it. Instead of focusing on the power of her sexuality and the awesome choice she has of whether or not to wield it, the film victimizes her at every corner, undercutting her potential strength and sexual agency.

      “The way [the ring] wraps around your finger, that’s to remind you to keep your gift wrapped until the day you trade it in for that other ring. That gold ring.” – Dawn

      Basically, Brave isn’t really that brave of a film. It’s traipsing through a well-established trope that, though positive, is stagnant. Don’t get me wrong; I love all the prepubescent female power fantasy tales I’ve listed, and I’m grateful that they exist and that I could grow up with many of them. However, we can’t pretend that Brave is pushing any boundaries. It sends the message that little girls can be powerful as long as they remain little girls. The dearth of representations of postpubescent heroines who are not objectified, whose sexuality does not rule their interactions, and who are the heroes of their own stories is appalling. There may be exceptions, but my brain has a fairly to moderately comprehensive catalog of films, especially those starring strong female characters. Scanning…scanning…file not found. If I, who actively seek out films that use integrity in their depictions of kickass women, can’t think of many, how is the casual viewer to find them? How is the teenage girl coming into her sexuality while facing negativity and recriminations supposed to see herself portrayed in a light that gives her the opportunity to be nuanced, to be smart and brave, to be independent or to be a leader?  

      ———– 

      2013 Oscar Week: The Brainy Message of ‘ParaNorman’

      Guest post written by Natalie Wilson, originally published at Ms. Magazine. Cross-posted with permission.

      Got a thing for zombies? Have some tween-age children in your life? Do you like whizz-bang stop-motion animation? Or, perhaps you are one of those types who appreciates a well-developed cast of characters that kicks stereotypes to the curb, features strong women and – can it be true?!?! – has a positively depicted openly gay character. If so, get thee to a theater and see the little-buzzed-about but much deserving ParaNorman–a zombie film not only with brains but a lot of heart. 

      Displaying it’s cleverness and attention to detail with tongue-in-cheek nods to horror films in general and zombie mania in particular, ParaNorman, which opens in wide release Friday, offers a number of sly critiques of cultural norms. Soon after meeting the spiky-haired but soft-hearted Norman and his wise-cracking dead grandma, we meet the dad, who is mocked for his stereotypical views of “limp-wristed hippy garbage” and for berating Norman about his supposed abnormalities.

      What makes Norman abnormal, from his conservative father’s viewpoint, is his ability to see and converse with dead people; but what makes him wonderfully better-than-normal is the fact that he resists norms, befriends outcasts (both dead and alive) and says things like: “When people get scared they say and do terrible things” and  “They did something awful. That doesn’t mean you should too.” His insight that making others suffer is not the answer to injustice is a key message of the film, along with the equally important emphasis on doing away with preconceived notions about who is “good” and what is “normal.”

      Norman Babcock and his family in ParaNorman | (L-R): Grandma Babcock (Elaine Stritch), Sandra (Leslie Mann), Perry (Jeff Garlin), Norman (Kodi Smit-McPhee), Courtney (Anna Kendrick)

      Stereotypical expectations are undercut when the annoying older sister, Courtney, turns out to be Norm’s savior. Her insistence that, “You all need to stop trying to kill my brother. You are adults!” nods to yet another point made in the film: that adults don’t necessarily know better, especially “normal” adults or those with authority, like dads, teachers and cops.

      While father figures are usually more heroic in children’s films and mothers are either dead or monsters (or both), this time around it’s Norman’s mother who is the non-monstrous parent. However, both parents take sidelined roles to the standout Scooby-gang that saves the day–Norman, his wonderfully quirky friend Neal, the seemingly typical-jock Mitch, sis Courtney and tormented bully Alvin. All of these characters are stock types, yet by the film’s end each character has disproven stereotypes. Most surprisingly, the uber-muscular “dumb jock” turns out to be gay–revealed by the line “You’re gonna like my boyfriend; he’s like a total chick-flick nut.” With his character and others, the film lures us into believing it’s perpetuating stereotypes only to pull them out from under us.

      This undercutting of preconceived notions is also made via the fact that the zombies and witches are not sources of evil: The “average citizens” of Blithe Hollow are. As the citizens turn into a zealous lynch mob, they serve as a metaphor for our own cultural tendencies to shout “terrorist” before we have assessed where the real threat/fear is coming from. In fact, the centuries-old “curse” in the film turns out to be one big misunderstanding (a misunderstanding that those in the know about witches will recognize as a clever nod to the way the categorization of “witch” was wielded to denigrate women and Others perceived as a “danger” to the normal patriarchal way of doing things). Yes, just as in Arthur Miller’s The Crucible – but this time in 3D!

      Neil (Tucker Albrizzi) and Salma (Hanna Noyes) in ParaNorman

      On that note, I must give a shout out to the very smart Salma, a standout secondary character who carries around a book called My First Nuclear Fusion Reactor and asks why witches are always depicted in historically inaccurate ways as hideous with pointy hats. While I wish she had made it into the Scooby-gang, the fact that Norman and Neil look to her as a go-to person for advice is a lovely nod to the notion that intelligence and heroism do not reside in a specific gender.

      The film is filled with timely satiric highlights – as when the cop asks the townspeople, “What are you doing firing at civilians? That is for police to do!” The film mocks the hollowness of consumer-crazed Blithe Hollow, a town that trades in the “witch’s curse” and, in so doing, curses itself to consist of zombified consumers who are as ready to kill as they are to eat and shop. Hmmm, remind anyone of…Americans?
      Alas, I don’t understand the complaint lodged by Boxoffice that this film is “in no way appropriate for kids.”  Tossing aside the strong anti-bullying and forgiveness-is-good messages of the film, the reviewer warns, “Nightmares and bedwetting are bad. But teaching your kids to take death casually is just bad parenting.” Guess I missed the film’s memo about taking death casually as I was too darn focused on the way prejudice, vengeance and normality are depicted as the true nightmares of Norm’s world – and our own.

      ———-
      Natalie Wilson, PhD is a literature and women’s studies scholar, blogger, and author. She teaches at Cal State San Marcos and specializes in areas of gender studies, feminism, feminist theory, girl studies, militarism, body studies, boy culture and masculinity, contemporary literature, and popular culture. She is author of the blogs Professor, what if …? and Seduced by Twilight. She is a proud feminist mom of two feminist kids (one daughter, one son) and is an admitted pop-culture junkie. Her favorite food is chocolate.

      Sexual Assault Subtext in Sailor Moon

      By Myrna Waldron

      I know I tend to gush about this series a lot, but today I’m going to talk about its dark side. I rewatch the episodes on a regular basis, but now approach them from an entirely new viewpoint. When I was a teen, I didn’t really understand feminism that much (beyond disliking Barbies and feeling uncomfortable about sexualisation) so a lot of the stuff I notice now went over my head. In particular, there are four Sailor Moon villains whose behaviour, well…creeps me the hell out. Prince Demando in Sailor Moon R and the Amazon Trio (Hawk’s Eye, Tiger’s Eye, Fisheye) in Sailor Moon SuperS have one thing in common besides being the bad guys – their modus operandi seems to have a distinct tendency towards subtextual sexual assault and attempting physical control of their targets. It’s never overt, and the victims never have any lasting physical damage (emotional/mental damage is never touched upon) but Oh my GOD is it hard to watch. General trigger warning in effect. You can figure out the subject matter from the title, and I’m not going to hold back.

      Demando trying to kiss Usagi

      In Sailor Moon R, Prince Demando’s story is largely centred around his leadership of the Black Moon Clan, and his obsession with Neo-Queen Serenity. In both the anime and manga, he becomes fascinated with her eyes after she glares at him in defiance. In the manga, he retaliates against her rejection by encasing her in a crystal coffin where she now lies in a coma. In the anime, the coffin is instead created by the four Guardian/Inner Soldiers to protect Neo-Queen Serenity from an attack – but she also falls into a coma. As the second season’s plot is themed around time travel, he instead directs his attention to Neo-Queen Serenity’s younger self – Usagi/Sailor Moon.

      Now, first off, Usagi is still 14 years old. Prince Demando is clearly an adult. This is an issue that the anime dances around (seeing as Mamoru was aged up to college aged instead of starting the story at 17) but there’s already some consent problems going on right there. Demando takes it one step further. In both the anime and manga, Demando kidnaps Sailor Moon and then overwhelms her with the power of the Black Crystal, which makes her fall unconscious and undoes her transformation. Usagi wakes up later, on a bed, in an elaborate dress she does not recognize. We do not know how long she was unconscious, and disturbingly, we do not know how Demando changed her clothes. The anime shows that the Black Moon Clan has the ability to magically change their attire, so that is a possible “solution,” but as far as I can remember, this isn’t something that is a demonstrated power in the manga. Regardless, Usagi is temporarily nude when she loses her transformation powers, and the ambiguity of her waking up in unfamiliar clothing has some disturbing implications.

      Usagi crying from fright

      In both the anime and manga, Demando possesses a magic third eye that can hypnotize its target. He uses this ability to try to force Usagi to declare “love” and “allegiance” to him, as well as to kiss him. In both versions, Usagi is more frightened than she has ever shown to be before, and is ashamed that someone besides Mamoru would be kissing her. In the manga, Demando does kiss her, and she is so upset by this she breaks the hypnosis and slaps him. In the anime, Demando is interrupted before he can kiss her, but his attempt to physically force affection out of her goes on for so much longer, and is somehow even more disturbing. In the manga, Demando temporarily releases Usagi from the hypnosis and allows her to wander around the Nemesis Castle, thinking that the Black Crystal’s influence would overwhelm her powers. He underestimates her resolve, however, and she manages to transform, rescuing herself and the kidnapped Inners. In the anime we instead get a Damsel in Distress situation. Tuxedo Mask is the one who interrupts Demando, and boy howdy do we get some Freudian symbolism going on in this scene. When the hypnosis breaks, Usagi falls backwards onto the bed. Tuxedo Mask extends his cane down to the bed, which she grabs onto. Phallic as hell. And don’t forget that Demando’s name is based on “Diamond”…which is a gem known for its *hardness.*

      Demando takes a hit for Sailor Moon

      The anime fairly closely follows the manga for the first hypnosis attempt, but deviates once it gets closer to the climax of the story. The Sailor Soldiers enter into the Black Crystal to stop the enemy, and Demando exploits its powers to separate Sailor Moon from her friends once again. He arrogantly repeats the exact same hypnosis attacks. This time, he physically forces her down on her knees (unfortunately making me think of a certain sexual act) and tries to make her kiss his hand in allegiance. She repeatedly breaks out of his spells, and counters his demands for her to “love” him by saying he does not understand the concept. She also manages to convince him that Wiseman has been lying to and manipulating him the entire time. Aaaand then the anime deviates even further in a way that…doesn’t please me.

      One of the major themes in the anime is Usagi’s forgiveness, and saintlike willingness to let any villain redeem themselves, no matter what they’ve done. This…is not really a thing in the manga. Sure, there are some villains who become good, but the majority of them get a quick and brutal execution. And they don’t just get a bullet wound or anything like that…they get disintegrated. And that’s what happens to Prince Demando in the manga – after he’s stopped from combining the two Silver Crystals to destroy the space-time continuum, Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask combine their powers to blow him the fuck up. Unfortunately, in the anime, he instead takes an attack from Wiseman that was meant for Sailor Moon, and he gets a long, drawn out death scene. Anime Usagi is apparently so goddamn forgiving that because he did this one act of kindness, she apparently forgets what he’s done, and cries for him. And his last words are “I love you, Sailor Moon.” Give me a BREAK. Yeah, I know he was evil and probably didn’t understand the concept of love yaddayaddayadda, but you know what? If you love someone you don’t try to physically force them to kiss you! His attraction to Usagi was an obsession at best. Not love. I think the worst part about this scene is that it’s encouraged shippers to get off on the idea of Usagi and Demando being together. I’ve already had Tumblr arguments about that (I even got called a feminazi!) but I’m still standing by my opinion of that ship: EUGH.

      The Amazon Trio perusing photos of their targets

      Moving on to the fourth season, the anime SuperS doesn’t really have much in common with the Dream Arc of the manga. As the anime series went on, it deviated so much from the manga that in the end they told an almost completely different story with the same characters. The villains in the first half of the series are the Amazon Trio; Hawk’s Eye likes older women, Tiger’s Eye likes young women, and Fisheye likes men. Their task is to look in the Dream Mirrors of the people of Tokyo to find where a magical being called Pegasus is hiding. And their methods are even closer to full-on sexual assault than even Prince Demando’s shenanigans.

      First, they seem to take pride in trying to seduce their intended victims. All three disguise themselves (Fisheye, who is feminine, crossdresses as a woman) and try to strike up relationships with their targets. Hawk’s Eye tries to appeal to the older women’s kindness, Tiger’s Eye is basically a Pick Up Artist, and Fisheye tends to pick men who are artists or romantics. Yup, the “sexual assault” targets are occasionally men. Tiger’s Eye appears the most often, as most of the cast is comprised of young women. He’s tremendously egotistical, and flies into a rage if his target doesn’t immediately fall head over heels with him. In the episode where he targets Ami, he even calls her a bitch for politely refusing his offer to take her to a private beach. He reminds me a lot of a Nice Guy – it’s always the woman’s fault if she doesn’t love him/want to screw him, and they turn on their romantic targets pretty quickly.

      Hawk’s Eye and a restrained Ikuko (Usagi’s mother)

      The Amazon Trio’s attempts to gain their victims’ trust before attacking them is bad enough. But the attacks themselves are so goddamn hard to watch. First, the victim is propped against a coffin-shaped board. Then they are physically restrained by their wrists and ankles. And then the Dream Mirrors are magically forced out of the victim’s chest, with them screaming in pain. The Trio then bend over and stick themselves RIGHT IN THE MIRROR, laughing in excitement and enjoying their view of the victims’ privacy while the victim screams in horror and pain. Inevitably Pegasus is not in the Dreams, and the Trio is instructed to kill their victims to prevent Pegasus from hiding in those Mirrors later. Yup, once they’re done assaulting them, it’s time to kill their victims! Such nice guys. It’s usually at this point that the Sailor Soldiers interrupt and go through their stock footage to defeat the monster of the day. Rinse and repeat for about 20 episodes.

      In the manga, none of the “looking into Dream Mirror” stuff happens. The Amazon Trio appear once in each act, and are obliterated pretty quickly. They are basically the pawns of the Amazones Quartet, who try to manipulate the Guardian Soldiers into giving up their dreams. Ami and Rei are forced to see nightmarish hallucinations in mirrors, and both Fisheye and Tiger’s Eye try to seduce the girls to make them give up being Sailor Soldiers (This suggests that Fisheye is not gay in this version). Makoto is given an Amazon Ring by Hawk’s Eye (who is the crossdresser this time rather than Fisheye) which makes her blurt out all of her insecurities and ambivalence over her dreams and responsibilities. In each case, the three girls overcome the hallucinations/manipulations, and each Amazon Trio member is killed off quickly. In the anime, the redemption stuff is instead used once again. It’s arguably a little more understandable since it is revealed that the Trio are not humanoid but magically transformed animals, so their understanding of human kindness and, uh, not stalking and assaulting people you’re attracted to, would not have developed.

      The Trio get Dream Mirrors

      Fisheye’s final target is Mamoru, and he goes out of his way to try to entice Mamoru away from Usagi. He has a bit of an identity crisis after finding out the truth about himself and that he lacks a Dream Mirror, and sadly sits on a bench in the rain. Usagi comes across him and recognizes him as the “girl” who tried to hit on Mamoru. Normally she’s a tremendously jealous girl, but for whatever reason, Usagi the Saint offers kindness to Fisheye and invites him home to warm up. Thus Fisheye naturally learns about the kindness of humans. He even discovers that Chibi-Usa is the true harborer of Pegasus, but decides not to tell Zirconia about this. When Hawk’s Eye attacks Usagi, Fisheye defends her, and convinces his “brothers” to defect. They are then assassinated by the Amazones Quartet, but are given Dream Mirrors by Pegasus, and he brings their spirits to Elysion to rest.

      So…once again Usagi has saintlike forgiveness and borderline sexual assaulters get redemption. Maybe I’m too hard, but I think there’s a limit to how much someone should get away with if they do the “Oh, I see the error of my ways now” bit. I should be a good progressive and always support rehabilitation rather than eternal incarceration, but I’m dubious about how effective therapy and education actually is for abusers and rapists. This is a major issue that psychologists and feminists need to work on. Regardless, I think I prefer how the manga handles this situation. For whatever reason, and it might be because the manga is written by a woman and the anime is usually written/directed by men, the sexual assault subtext is far less disturbing and drawn out than it is in the manga. And for me, it’s far more satisfying to see a villain that manipulative and creepy to get blown away than to see them become good guys. But that’s a matter of preference.

      Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.