My Neighbour Totoro (1988)

The best Japanese animators remind us that, in an age of computer-generated and 3D animation, there is still a place for the traditional methods of animation, where the works are drawn by hand, and the images are two-dimensional.

This is evident in the work of Hayao Miyazaki, perhaps the greatest of all creators of anime, and this must make him a strong contender for the greatest animator alive today. While Miyazaki is not above using computer-generated imagery in his works, they retain the more traditional appearance of an animated work.

My Neighbour Totoro is one of his prettiest films. Each image has the beauty of a water-colour painting. Scenes are created with loving care and in rich detail, so that even the background to scenes is clearly drawn, and not just a foggy outline. It is possible to be distracted by the detailed background whilst admiring the action in the foreground. For this film, Miyazaki has made his palette colourful and light, reflecting the sunny atmosphere of the story.

The film was originally released on the same bill as Isao Takahata’s Grave of the Fireflies, and what a remarkable combination they are. There is no need to pick a favourite here. The two films have a few things in common, but differ so widely in style, tone, theme and content that there is no need to draw a comparison between them. They can be enjoyed on entirely different levels

At the beginning of the two movies, they may seem to have a similar set-up. The central characters in both movies are two children, and their mother is in hospital. From this point, the stories diverge. In Grave of the Fireflies, the mother dies. In My Neighbour Totoro, she has an unspecified illness that may be life-threatening (Miyazaki’s mother suffered from spinal tuberculosis when he was young, so it is reasonable to assume that this is the illness). However she is well enough to sit with her children when they visit.

In Grave of the Fireflies, the children’s father was fighting in World War 2, leaving the children to fend for themselves. In My Neighbour Totoro, their father is with the children. There is no war. What is more, he is a kind and attentive father who looks after his children. There are no neglectful parents here, and no sibling hostility – Satsuki and Mei have an affectionate relationship with one another.

When the story opens, the mother is still in hospital, but the rest of the family are moving into a new house. There is concern for their mother, but for Satsuki and Mei this is a time of excitement. They have a new house and surrounding environs to explore.

Aspects of the house seem old and rotten, but their lives are never threatened by the edifice, not even during a storm. The neighbours are hospitable. An old woman frightens Mei on first sight, but turns out to be benevolent. The seemingly surly boy (her grandson) is ready to help the girls when needed.

What is more, the house and surrounding area are haunted by spirits. When the girls throw open the back door and let the light in, they are startled when a large number of creatures that resemble black dust with eyes and legs suddenly run for cover back into the darkness. The girls are naturally afraid, but the elderly neighbour reassures them that the creatures are only susuwatari (soot sprites). They inhabit empty houses, but they do not harm nice people, and they will soon move out.

This opening sets the pace and tone for the story. There are no villains or monsters here. Adults are friendly, and ready to trust the children, even when the girls tell them unlikely tales. Spirits are benevolent – either harmless, or helpful to the children. There will be two crises later in the story, but there seems little doubt that they will pass, and everyone will be happy again.

It is at this point that our titular character arrives in the story. Strictly speaking there are three Totoro (or wood spirits) in the story. Mei first sees the smallest one, a white and transparent creature with pointed ears, not unlike a rabbit, that is able to disappear and reappear at will. Excited by the sight of this strange creature, she follows him, and soon espies a second, slightly larger Totoro with blue fur and a white chest. It is carrying a small sack.

Mei determinedly follows the strange beings into the hollow of a large camphor tree that dwarfs the family’s house. Somewhere in the lower recesses is the Totoro that has become well-known to many children and adults across the world – a giant, hairy creature with whiskers, large teeth, and a loud roar. He seems sleepy – perhaps Totoro are nocturnal.

One might expect a little girl to be terrified of this monstrous beast, but that is not the world of this film. Instead Mei plays with his whiskers and falls asleep on top of her new friend. When she asks his name, he says something that she hears as Totoro, hence his name. This is probably intended to be a mispronunciation of Totoru, the Japanese word for “troll”.

The girls will have other encounters with Totoro. Later they are waiting at the bus stop for their father’s bus to arrive. It is raining heavily, and they see Totoro waiting in the rain. It seems that he is waiting for a bus too.

Satsuki lends him her umbrella. The scene is a magical one. Look at his delight when he hears the raindrops cascading over his head without hitting him, causing him to shake down more drops from an overhanging tree. Then his bus arrives. It takes the form of a giant cat (complete with Cheshire Cat grin) that has seats inside it.

In return for the umbrella, Totoro gives the children a bag of acorns to plant. Later he induces a fantasy where a giant tree grows overnight and the children get to fly to the top. By morning, it has gone, but the acorns have begun to sprout.

There is one final and more serious encounter. News from the hospital suggests that their mother is ill. Mei sets out to visit the hospital on her own, and is soon lost. Satsuki must appeal to the Totoro for help, and that help will involve the Catbus.

Nobody but the children ever see the Totoro or the Catbus. The spirits can only be seen when they want to be seen, and entrances through the camphor tree can disappear at will. It is hardly surprising that Totoro became as popular with Japanese children as Winnie-the-Pooh is with western children. What could be better than a secret enchanted world that is only visible to the very young? A race of benign mystical beings from a place where adults are excluded.

The action of the film takes place in a natural world that is spiritually alive. By moving into this home, the family have become intimately in touch with nature, reflected in the massive camphor tree which dwarfs the house. The spiritual connection is made clear when Mei gets lost. She is next seen by several statues representing Bodhisattva Jizo, the Buddhist deity who is the protector of children. This offers us the reassurance that she will come to no harm.

The world of My Neighbour Totoro is safe but never bland, sweet but never saccharine. There is no unnecessary sentimentality or tugging of the heart-strings. The story inhabits a world of its own, one that somehow feels more natural and true than the one we have around us.