A Moveable Feast
Having won an Academy Award for Spirited Away, Miyazaki offers some wild, whimsical variations on similar themes in Howl's Moving Castle, in which another spellbound girl finds romance, empowerment and outlandish monsters. Howl's Moving Castle doesn't quite equal Miyazaki's best, but he's never made a bad movie, and here he gives his imagination freer rein than ever.
In an Old European village crowded with soaring war machines and the smoky contraptions of the industrial revolution, a girl named Sophie (voiced by Emily Mortimer) works in a hat shop. Sophie denies herself life's pleasures - perhaps she still mourns her dead father, although her depression never gets spelled out. She finds more excitement than she can handle through a chance meeting with Howl (Christian Bale), a dashing wizard with a public reputation as both rock star and bogeyman.
Howl's favor earns Sophie the wrath of the Witch of the Waste (Lauren Bacall), who curses the adolescent to become an elderly woman. Compared to the impossible animal transformations of Miyazaki's other movies, aging spells strike close to home: We're all destined to face wrinkled visages in the mirror one day. Now voiced by Jean Simmons, senior Sophie fulfills the adage that "Youth is wasted on the young." Despite suffering from aches and chills, she discovers spunk, pride and zest for life that she never allowed herself before. Miyazaki frequently builds his films around young girls, but it's easy to believe that the 64-year-old filmmaker puts more of his personal experience and attitudes than usual in spry Sophie.
She eventually makes her way aboard Howl's title castle, a rickety amalgam of irregular hulls, domes, windows and smokestacks, galumphing over hill and dale on spindly metal bird-legs. An unforgettable cinematic creation, it's like something jerry-rigged by a gizmo-crazed boy, and Sophie finds that the mystical but squalid dwelling suffers from the lack of a woman's touch. Howl, despite his supernatural powers and swoony image, has a cowardly self-absorbed streak and throws a hilarious tantrum when Sophie ruins his hair-care products. Sophie takes over the household, guards Howl against both the Witch and a warmongering nation, and all but forgets her own curse.
A pronounced streak of comedy runs throughout Howl's Moving Castle - even the Witch's shadowy, blobby henchmen wear boater hats. Billy Crystal dials back his usually antic shtick as the voice of Calcifier, a wisecracking fire demon who keeps the castle chugging. But the film features hellish images as well: Howl, in his guise as a feathered bird-creature, flies into the heart of wartime conflagrations. We learn little about the combat's causes, emphasizing war's senselessness.
Howl's Moving Castle often withholds neat explanations, like the way Sophie's age visibly changes based on her emotional state. It's as though the filmmaker believes the story's magic lies in the mystery. But the looseness can make the narrative confusing, leaving us in the dark about the characters' histories or what's happening "off stage."
The plot points don't drive the film so much as Miyazaki's old-fashioned spirit of generosity. Sophie creates a surrogate family (that even includes fallen enemies) and holds them together when the war reaches their doorstep. Air-raid scenes resemble magical versions of London during the blitz, or perhaps Miyazaki's hometown of London during the American fire-bombings.
What sticks with you are the film's moments of delicate epiphanies, like seeing a fire demon cook bacon and eggs, or watching a hopping scarecrow hang clothes to dry. In Miyazaki's realm, the supernatural goes hand-in-hand with the commonplace. The director has called Howl's Moving Castle his last film, and his retirement means a loss to imaginative cinema. Then again, he said the same thing after Spirited Away, so maybe he'll change his mind and take us on another magical mystery tour.
curt.holman@creativeloafing.com
