Laputa: Castle in the Sky

Dir: Hayuo Miyazaki
1986
Recently released domestically with a disposable dubbed soundtrack (James Vanderbeek, eek!), Laputa is another classic from Miyazaki. I haven’t seen all his films yet, but each time I do, I’m astounded by the breadth of his vision. He puts other animated film directors to shame. For this story of a young girl and her mysterious amulet and the rough and tumble lad, Pazu, who tries to help her escape the clutches of bad governmentals who are after her, we are treated to two hours of exquisite landscapes, stuff that dreams are made on. Pazu’s mountain village is an impossible architecture of village England crossed with Alpine cliff dwellers; the Army base is a round and geometric prison; the pirate ship they escape on is steam-punk before there was such a word (nods to Captain Nemo abound); and the Castle in the Sky contains four to five distinct environments. I’ve had dreams like this–Miyazaki brings them to life.
On top of that, the story is a rip-roaring boys’ and girls’ own adventure, plus an ecological fable that doesn’t hit you over the head. Miyazaki also treats his working people with respect, like he does in Princess Mononoke. The villagers mine the earth, but they respect it. The air pirates are scary, but they’re more romantic outlaws and mostly buffoons. The true villains are the army (blockheads with big weapons) and government officials (who quickly corrupt themselves absolutely).
Plus, such is my fear of heights that I found a lot of the suspence near unbearable, as Pazu’s often winds up hanging by the skin of his teeth from the bottom of the sky city.
Most excellent!
Just one example of Miyazaki’s subtle touch: When Pazu agrees to join the sky pirates and go in search of the girl, he is in essence growing up and agreeing to leave home for the greater world. We see him leave the dovecot open and wish his doves well. A few scenes later when he and pirates pass back over the valley, we get a wide shot of the village and we can just make out his house. And in fact, there’s a small flock of doves flying nearby. Miyazaki succinctly sums up Pazu’s feelings right there–that his former life is nearby but very far away, not really a part of him now. (One can imagine the Hollywood version: “Wow, I can see my house from here! And there go my doves! Fly and be free, doves!” probably with a shot of the airpirates’ craft from Pazu’s old house.)