Lotte from Gadgetville

A few weeks ago, we went to the Bay Area International Children’s Film Festival, an annual event in Alameda that features two full days of diverse, high quality movies for kids. We saw a delightful shorts program, with work from across the globe including some pieces by children—always inspiring for kids to see. Afterwards we watched the Estonian animated film Lotte from Gadgetville (English version), which was so unique and charming that I am breaking my long hiatus from this blog to write about it!

Directed by Heiki Ernits and Janno Poldma in 2007, Lotte from Gadgetville is the first animated feature film from Estonia and is considered a national treasure. The plot is offbeat, certainly compared to its American counterparts, about a town of animals where everyone is an inventor. Each year, the town holds a competition for the best invention. One day, some children find a book floating in the ocean near their home and inside is a Japanese bee named Susumu. He introduces the town to judo, which catches on like wildfire. So in addition to the invention competition and its preparation, the plot centers on a bee teaching judo to a village of animals. I’m telling you, it’s quirky!

The film’s lead character is a good-natured and spunky little girl dog named Lotte whose dad Oskar wins the competition every year. Lotte’s best friend, Bruno, is a boy cat who suffers from an overly-protective and domineering mother. We learn that Bruno’s dad disappeared, giving some insight into why Bruno’s mom won’t let him out of her sight. We see Lotte helping Bruno to push against the unreasonable limits set by his mom, and their frustration at times, as they strive to compete in a judo championship.

There is also some drama about a neighbor rabbit who cheats in the invention competition, desperate to win. He also has a back story which in the end makes him a bit more sympathetic, something I always appreciate in a film—showing that people are complicated and not necessarily good or bad, a refreshing perspective in children’s media.

Overall Lotte from Gadgetville is a story about friendship, sharing cultures, being courageous, and learning new skills. I would recommend it for kids of all ages, and their grown-ups!

And while you may think tracking down a six-year-old Estonian animated film an impossible task, I am happy to tell you that the film is actually available through Kidflix Global, where you can rent or buy the DVD. 

The Secret World of Arrietty

The tooth fairy paid us a visit last week, leaving behind her usual gold dollar coin and a handwritten note. Sometimes the fairy leaves other signs of her visit: a pen set down in a different spot, or objects rearranged on the nightstand. I recently overheard Pearl and her friends comparing notes about such evidence. One time, Pearl’s friend Sasha saw footprints on her windowsill. According to Pearl, the tooth fairy is small enough to sit on your hand and lives in a glistening white castle made of teeth.

With tiny visitors on our minds, it seemed fitting to watch The Secret World of Arrietty, a story about a family of four-inch high “borrowers” who live beneath the floorboards of an old house.  The borrowers are so-named because they take things they need from human homes—a pin, a tissue, a cube of sugar. After we watched it, Pearl told me she understood now why small things sometimes go missing.

Based on Mary Norton’s 1952 novel, The Borrowers, The Secret World of Arrietty is the latest production from Japan’s Studio Ghibli, with a screenplay written by Hayao Miyazaki. The film features Studio Ghibli’s trademark stunning animation and careful attention to details, creating a magical world for the audience to enter.

In the film, we meet a boy named Sho, who is awaiting surgery for a heart condition. His parents, busy with their own lives, have left him to rest at his great aunt’s house in the country. Sho is a lonely, sad, and sickly character, but his life starts to change when he spies a tiny girl named Arrietty in the garden one afternoon. Despite her parents’ grave warnings, Arrietty communicates with Sho, and a friendship develops.

This friendship, however, puts Arrietty’s family at risk. A dwindling population, borrowers depend on secrecy for their survival, and discovery by humans has historically led to their demise. When Arrietty’s parents learn that a human knows of their existence, they are terrified and ready themselves to abandon the home they have lovingly built.

Arrietty and Sho’s innocent friendship leads to danger and upheaval, and the unfolding story kept us all (me, three-year-old George, six-year-old Pearl, and their dad) at the edge of our seats. Arrietty is an independent, clever and spunky character, a strong female lead, which I always appreciate. Her independence, however, is also her downfall, as she insists on disregarding her parents’ warnings. This makes her feel very real and all the more sympathetic as ultimately we see her striving to right the mistakes she has made. 

The Secret World of Arrietty is another testament to the brilliance of Miyazaki, a beautifully rendered, creative and entertaining film that will appeal to a broad range of viewers, from small kids to grown-ups.  It’s available now on DVD, so add it to your summer film viewing list. You’ll be glad you did.

And don’t be surprised if you or your kids start to notice evidence of small visitors in your own home. A lost coin or pen top might just mean there are borrowers afoot.

Ponyo

After watching My Neighbor Totoro a while back, I started asking friends for recommendations of other Miyazaki films that would be good for a sensitive three-year-old and got two strong recommendations: Ponyo and Kiki’s Delivery Service.  So off to the video store I went.

(And here I will make a plug for an awesome video store called Five Star Video, the only video store left in Berkeley. They have a great selection of kids films, independent films, new releases and documentaries. A whole wall is dedicated to the Criterion Collection. So please pay a visit, and help keep them open!)

But I digress. We have just watched Ponyo and again, we’ve found a winner for the whole family. Like the classic story of The Little Mermaid, Ponyo spins a timeless, yet modern, tale of love between two worlds.

In the film, a five-year-old boy named Sosuke discovers a strange fish in the ocean near his home and names her Ponyo. When he cuts himself, Ponyo heals his cut with a kiss accidentally ingesting a small amount of Sosuke's blood, and putting herself on the road to transformation from fish to human.

Ponyo, child of an underwater wizard and the goddess of the sea, is a willful creature and unleashes her father’s magic to hasten her transformation. While turning Ponyo into a little girl, the magic spell also throws the world out of balance, pulling the moon perilously close to the earth and causing the ocean to rise and cover the earth’s surface.

There are some amazing, and somewhat alarming, scenes of Sosuke’s town being flooded, and his mother leaves him alone to go rescue people from the local senior center. But ultimately no one is harmed, and the flooded world is actually rather fun and interesting to Sosuke and Ponyo. The two cross town by boat in search of Sosuke’s mom, running into neighbors along the way, and watching fish swimming on the streets below. Ponyo performs several acts of magic, including blowing a toy boat up into a real boat, communicating telepathically with a baby, and walking on water. She is a wonderfully cheerful, enthusiastic and helpful girl, and Sosuke cherishes her.

But, of course Ponyo’s father is not keen on losing his daughter, and something must be done to put the world back in order and end the flood. Ultimately, Sosuke declares his love and acceptance of Ponyo as both a fish and a human, saving the day and making it all turn out right. Both children are great role models, and the parents in this film are caring and loving (although Ponyo’s dad comes across as a bit scary at times). The story has enough twists and turns, and is visually so interesting and beautiful, that it definitely qualifies as a film to please all ages. Our kids watched it twice and will definitely watch it again.

And, by the way, if you do watch it, and you stick around for the credits, you will have this going through your head for days:

Ponyo, Ponyo, Ponyo, fishy in the sea;
Tiny little fishy, who could you really be?
Ponyo, Ponyo, Ponyo, magic sets you free;
Oh she's a little girl with a round tummy.

One of the catchiest (and cutest) theme songs I've heard for a long while!

My Neighbor Totoro

“Wish I had a big friend like that,” said three-year-old George after watching My Neighbor Totoro. Yes, I thought, who wouldn’t want a friend like Totoro? He’s a big furry, bunny-like creature, endowed with magical powers, a forest spirit who never speaks a word, but offers protection to young children and other living creatures. And he flies, standing on a little spinning top that lifts him up above the trees. How cool is that?

Our whole family watched this film together, and we were all pretty enchanted. Directed by the Japanese animation master Hayao Miyazaki in 1988, this now-classic children’s film is visually gorgeous, with beautifully rendered scenes of the lush woods and pastoral landscape of rural Japan. The story follows two girls, Satsuki and her little sister Mei, who have just moved, with their father, into a decrepit country house at the edge of a forest.

A university professor, the father is gone for long stretches of the day, leaving the girls to make their own discoveries and have adventures. When at home, their father is a devoted and loving parent and there are many joyful scenes of family life. Their mother, however, is very sick and in the hospital—a plot line which was at times troubling as there was suggestion of her health declining.

But the overall sense of magic and happiness that fill this film override the few fear-inducing moments. For example, when the girls are first exploring their new house, they find it is over-run by "soot sprites"—mysterious black furballs that scurry across the floors and walls. These are spirits, like Totoro, seen only by the girls, but loud laughter easily dispatches with them. 

Totoro himself at first seems a bit alarming. Mei stumbles upon him at the base of a tree, in a nook protected by a briar patch. She mistakenly lands on his stomach while he is napping and he makes a loud growling and rumbling sound. But she soon realizes he is a friendly creature. Her father later tells her that Totoro is the “keeper of the forest.”

Far and away, the most magical and memorable part of this film for our kids was Totoro’s “Cat Bus”—a giant, bus-shaped feline with 12 legs who bounds across fields and nimbly walks along telephone lines. One evening when Mei is lost, the Cat Bus comes to Satsuki’s aid, inviting her inside and announcing, “Next stop: Little Sister!”

My Neighbor Totoro is a great film for kids of all ages, and grown-ups too. It portrays a loving family, and a sense of childhood discovery, fantasy, and the inner life of children. There is a message of respect for nature, and an overall gentleness about this film that is appealing. One thing I love is that there are no villains. So many children’s films rely on plots of good-guys-versus-bad-guys. My Neighbor Totoro offers a welcome departure from this tired formula with a well-told story and subtle yet compelling dramatic twists. We highly recommend!

Alamar

Every once in a while you come across a film that delivers on the promise of cinema, a film that transports you to another world, that reveals something deep and true about the human condition, and that shows a mastery of the art and craft of filmmaking. Right now for me, that film is Pedro González-Rubio’s Alamar (To the Sea).

Set in Banco Chinchorro, an endangered but naturally pristine coral reef in the Mexican Caribbean, Alamar centers on the relationship between a five-year-old boy (Natan) and his father (Jorge), who has taken him to live in a remote fishing village. Natan’s mom and Jorge, we learn through voice-over and an opening photo montage, are separating. Natan will ultimately live with his mother in Italy, but first will spend some quality time by the sea with Jorge and Matraca, an older friend of Jorge’s and a grandfatherly figure.

The film is in Spanish with subtitles, something I was concerned about with the kids. But the dialogue is sparse enough, and the story enchanting enough for children, that my three- and six-year-old were riveted the entire time and seemed unbothered by my reading subtitles to them.

Watching Alamar is very much like watching a documentary, and judging by the names of the cast, it seems that most characters are playing themselves. Natan really is Jorge’s son and the film seems to be a sort of hybrid between fact and fiction, giving it an emotional power. In one of the early scenes, we see Natan and Jorge on a motorboat on the way to the little house on piers where they will live. Natan is terribly seasick and his sympathetic father holds him lovingly. Throughout the film, the bond between them is evident and poignant.

There are many captivating scenes of life by the water. The men fish using spears and snorkels, and it is fascinating to watch them swimming underwater. One of the more surprising characters is a white egret, whom Natan names Blanquita. The bird arrives one day and sticks around, eating offerings from the fishermen and even climbing onto Jorge’s arm. According to notes I read about the film, Blanquita’s presence on the set was sheer luck, but she becomes an important part of the story, offering lessons about attachment and loss, and the potential for humans to connect with the natural world.

What is most notable about Alamar, as far as my kids go, is that very little happens. This is a good thing. There are no suspenseful scenes, no real danger or threat—just beautiful glimpses into a lifestyle and landscape that are little-known to us. There is love aplenty, and a sense of joy and discovery.

Knowing that the boy and his father would soon be separated gave the film an emotional depth that I appreciated. The kids were not so attuned to this, although it did spark some conversation about divorce with Pearl, my six-year-old. This was helpful as she has recently known friends whose parents are separating. It’s a hard topic for kids to understand, but the film makes clear that a parent’s love for a child can survive distance and separation. Jorge’s connection to Natan has a primordial quality to it—the bond between father and son seem as old and enduring as the sea itself.

I highly recommend this film for kids of all ages. Many thanks to my friend Annie’s mom, Lorna, for telling me about it!

The Red Balloon

Undeniably, The Red Balloon (Le Ballon Rouge) belongs to the canon of classic children’s cinema. Released in 1956 by director Albert Lamorisse, this half-hour film tells the story of a young boy (Lamorisse’s own son Pascal) and his unusual friendship with a red balloon that follows him through the streets of Paris. The only short film ever to win an Oscar for best original screenplay, The Red Balloon has been enjoyed by generations. I saw it as a child and was excited to share what I remember as a magical story with my own kids.

True to my memory, the film is magical. George and Pearl were quickly enchanted by the puppy-like antics of the balloon as it traipsed after young Pascal, following him home and later to school. There is virtually no dialogue, making it a very accessible international film.

Told through images, the storyline is both sweet and emotionally wrenching. Much as in Lamorisse’s White Mane, the child protagonist in The Red Balloon is portrayed as lonely and persecuted. The only image of his home life is of an angry mother casting his balloon out the window. Fortunately for Pascal, his balloon obediently waits outside for him. The scenes of his school show a cruel principal who locks Pascal up in a closet all day for bringing his balloon (it causes a distraction for the other children).

But by far the worst he must endure is a marauding pack of feral schoolboys who chase Pascal through the city’s mazelike streets and passageways, trying to destroy his balloon with rocks. In the end, they succeed in separating Pascal from the balloon and one boy hits the target with a slingshot. Slowly the balloon deflates and dies. These scenes were disturbing to all of us, but especially to three-year-old George—something parents of young kids may want to consider.

As sad as the balloon’s passing may seem, the film deals with issues that all kids face. Balloons pop, and throughout life, loss happens—both big and small. Sometimes we feel lonely and like no one is on our side. But I contend that the greatest works of children’s film and literature deal with these themes, as difficult as they are. The final scenes of the film are ultimately redeeming: Balloons from all over the city take flight and come to Pascal’s aid. The film’s last shot is truly uplifting, and I’ll leave it at that.

While dealing with some of life’s big themes, The Red Balloon’s premise is relatively simple, as are the special effects—a surprisingly believable simulation in which the balloon really does seem to move of its own accord. We had some discussion of how the filmmaker might have pulled this off (unseen wires?)—which made me realize that in more modern films where special effects are much more technical, we don’t often talk about how the film was made. Perhaps because I don’t even know! I liked this aspect of The Red Balloon, and it made me think about how we might someday try to make our own film with homemade special effects.

Visually, the film is stunning. The contrast of the bright red balloon and the gritty urban backdrop reflects Lamorisse’s cinematic prowess.  The film also provides a fascinating documentation of mid-Century Parisian street life and an impoverished neighborhood of Ménilmontant that was mostly demolished in the decades following.

Want to watch it? The Red Balloon is available for purchase as part of the Criterion Collection. We checked it out from our local library.

White Mane (Crin Blanc)

First up in our exploration of classic children’s cinema: White Mane. Directed by Albert Lamorisse, this acclaimed 1952 black and white, French language film won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival and has been revered as a classic of French cinema. It is available as part of the Criterion Collection.

All this means nothing to the kids, though. As the opening credits rolled, my six-year-old daughter, in her new going-on-thirteen voice, demanded, “Is it ALL in black and white? Is it going to be BORING?” Just watch, just watch and see, I said.

In no time at all, she and her almost three-year-old brother and seven-year-old friend were completely engrossed. The film is in French, so I read the subtitles out loud. Dialogue and narration are both sparse, so this wasn’t an issue. As for black and white and boring, also not an issue. The film has lots of intrigue and action and at times is even quite tense.

The story takes place in the south of France, in a stark but beautiful landscape of marshland, in a region called the Camargue. There, a magnificent stallion, White Mane, leads a herd of wild horses who roam the land, evading capture by a dogged group of ranchers on horseback.

Nearby, a boy named Folco lives in an isolated shack with his grandfather and baby brother. Folco identified in the narration as “the young fisherman” is shown alone on his skiff, fishing and making his way across the marsh. 

My kids were intrigued by the idea of a young boy so independent and with real responsibilities. In one scene, Folco arrives home to his shack and brings his little brother a turtle, and in another he captures a rabbit and cooks it over an open fire. These documentary-like scenes of the boy’s everyday life definitely piqued my kids’ interest. Then of course there are the many beautifully shot scenes of wild horses—what kid would not love these?

Ultimately, the ranchers fail to break White Mane and young Folco befriends and tames the stallion through sheer determination and a healthy dose of kindness. However, beyond the touching bond between boy and horse, the film delves into darker territory, showing that adults can be cruel, deceptive, and ruthless in their pursuits. We were all on edge through several scenes as the marauding men on horseback chased White Mane, even setting a raging grass fire to drive him out. In one scene, White Mane and a rival stallion engage in a violent and very real fight, kicking and biting each other bloody. In this scene, the black and white film is a particular blessing.

The darkest moment, though, is the ending, in which (spoiler alert!) the men chase Folco and White Mane to a point where a river meets the ocean, and the two are swept out to sea, presumably to their deaths. I was shocked at this seemingly pessimistic ending to a children’s film. Yet, at the same time, the final scene was poetic, and the kids were far less bothered by it than I was. The narrator states that White Mane took Folco to a far-away land where men and horses could live as friends, and the kids took this information literally. To a child, who lives in a world of fantasy, the ending could be seen as magical and comforting. The adult viewer, however, will more likely feel the deeper emotional impact of watching a boy and his horse being swallowed by crashing waves. That is part of the genius of this film.

Our final take: The kids and I really, really liked White Mane, and it gave us much to talk about, raising questions around wild horses and the boy’s lifestyle, as well as more philosophical concerns about what propels men to pursue the unattainable, and why they need to “break” a wild animal. Ultimately this film is a true work of art, and I look forward to watching Albert Lamorisse’s other children’s classic of the same era, The Red Balloon, very soon. More on that another day…