Friday, December 9, 2011

McCarty Princess Mononugent

In both Princess Mononoke and Nausicaa we see worlds where -in an inverse of our own- nature is or has the ability to be dominant over man. In our realm of reality, man is certainly the dominant force over nature: we breed and domesticate animals for food and companionship, we alter the natural course of rivers with dams and levees, we pollute, oh God how we pollute, and we are simply in no way in tune with the natural world. If, somehow, we all woke up one day to find that overnight our world had turned into one like Nausicaa's, the outcome would be far from idyllic: many, many people would die and those who didn't would seek to rebuild the world they had left behind. I know these things. Given our general lack of the knowledge needed to thrive without modern amenities, our lack of respect for nature, and our ceaseless quest for the bigger and the better, it's illogical to think that any majority of mankind would be able form a community like the Valley of the Wind, more likely we would end up like the industrial, squabbling Pejites and Tolmekians.
Ted Nugent would thrive in this world for all the wrong reasons, kind of like he does here.
Nausicaa and Ashitaka each manage to maintain a perfect balance between their ties to humanity and to nature, an incredible feat considering they live in worlds inhabited by animal gods the size of semis and easily irritated, world-leveling insects. And the humans they each deal with are as ignorant and destructive as they come. Also, in Nausicaa's world everything is poison. These kids are awesome. They manage to do for their worlds what we fail to do for ours, and they do it in the face of extreme odds that often call for a great amount of self-sacrifice, such as when Nausicaa placed herself in the path of the unstoppable Ohm stampede, or any time Ashitaka did anything.
Especially things like this.
While I do love to bemoan the idea of the McDonald's eating, gun toting, Humvee driving soccer mom, I do understand that there are good people in this world. For all the Eboshis and Kushanas we certainly have Ashitakas and Mononokes and even Sans. These mediators and advocates of natural order are certainly the few, though, and that's why it's so easy to be prospectively grim for the potential of our people. 
Also, this. 

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

McCarty Praises of Elk and Warnings of Inquest

As much as I love analyzing motifs and symbols and carrying out elaborate critiques through class discussion, I will be the first to cry out about the dangers of over-analyzing and point out when I feel we have gone a bit too far in our ceaseless quest for truth and knowledge. I think our class discussion on Princess Mononoke fell victim to the collective application of our over-zealous intellects and suffered in some ways that it wouldn't have if we had just been a little more willing to accept that certain aspects of the film might not need anything more than the most basic interpretation. In particular, I felt we overwrought the character of Ashitaka as a champion of traditional Japanese ideals, and undermined the significance of rebirth, especially in Lady Eboshi.
We also failed to spend an entire class period appreciating Yakul, easily the most unforgivable oversight of all.
Around the time we watched the Harp of Burma there was a lot of discussion on the nature of the traditional Japanese hero. It was noted that this was a person who was self-sacrificing and dedicated to a cause above all things, more giri than ninjo. While Ashitaka is certainly all these things, there is a significantly Western flavor in how his side is undeniably the 'good' one. He's not just a hero because he remains loyal to his ideals, he's also a hero because he wins, he comes out on top as the champion of a cause which benefits everyone. Even the 'unbiased' universe favors him: the Forest Spirit not only revives him, but also cures him and rewards his benevolent sacrifice. Though Ashitaka wasn't acting with any of this in mind (which is certainly heroic) it still all works out in his favor. We don't have to look at it through Japanese eyes because it appeals so naturally to our Western way of thinking: look at this good guy and look at all the good things he's done, nature loves him.
Look at that elk.
What a hero.
Ambiguity. Ambiguity is a great thing and a terrible thing and it is in no way an end in itself. Ambiguity is a tool which frees us from the boundaries of a storyteller's imagination and gives us free reign to apply our own creative interpretation. Taking an ending and saying, "It's ambiguous! Who knows!" is failing to complete the process of enjoying a film. An ambiguous ending is not a reason to become overwhelmed with all the possible coulds and could nots but a reason to think, speculate, and ultimately conclude and be able to say, "I think this because of this!" It's beautiful! Mononoke's ending was not in itself incredibly ambiguous, but our tendency towards over-analysis still prevented us from reaching a conclusion as a class. What we essentially ended up saying was that there was no way to tell if Lady Eboshi had learned from her death and rebirth, and whether her claim to "build a better Irontown" meant a greener, more sustainable Irontown, or simply an even more industrial one. Poppycock. Of course she learned and of course she means a greener and more sustainable Irontown. The thing about death and rebirth is that you die and are reborn. I don't think I can overstate how big of a deal this is. To say that Lady Eboshi didn't learn from the mistakes of her previous life and will continue in her wicked ways, is to completely disregard the significance of her rebirth. Furthermore, the presence of Ashitaka will prevent her from flubbing up again even if everything else I just said somehow didn't make sense. I honestly don't believe this film requires any further insight. It has a happy ending, and that's okay. It's no less meaningful or legitimate because of it.
Yakul.