Although it is sad that he is often relegated to the sub-genre of animation — Spirited Away should have been in the Best Picture category — it is of note that, along with Brad Bird (The Iron Giant, The Incredibles) and others, animation post-Eisner’s Disney is being lifted from the mass-production assembly line and back into the respectable realm of auteur filmmaking.

Howl’s Moving Castle is the latest feather in Miyazaki’s cap. It is a precious film, so overflowing with ideas and visuals that our boring flesh and blood and concrete world could never contain its charm. Good animation possesses an innate precocious sensibility that even CGI is at pains to achieve, which in part explains why the live action Fantastic Four was so far from the bar set by Bird’s similarly super-powered and family-centered The Incredibles. Aside from marketing forces, it is this precociousness that drives so much animation to feature children characters, but Miyazki in his old age ingeniously stretches this sensibility to the world of senior citizens.

Castle features Sophie (Emily Mortimer), a young haberdasher who spends her free time making hats for herself from straw and lace. It is a clear day in her unnamed village when the famed Moving Castle comes limping through the countryside. Her fellow workers fawn and fan themselves in an echo of modern-day celebrity worship, sharing rumors of Howl (Christian Bale) and his reputation for eating the hearts of young beautiful girls. Howl’s castle is a wonder in itself, a hulking mass of conjoined parts that move independently of each other, bobbing and breathing, brought to life by smokestacks and pulleys and four tiny legs.

When Sophie unknowingly runs into Howl on the street, she’s taken off her feet literally and figuratively. Howl is equally enamored with the young girl, but it is his attraction to her that draws the wrath of the jealous Wicked Witch of the Waste (Lauren Bacall). Jealous of her youth and beauty, the witch places a curse on Sophie that transforms her into a ninety-year-old woman (now voiced by Jean Simmons).

The most remarkable thing about Sophie’s transformation is the ease with which she accepts it. At first frightened by her reflection, it is mere minutes later that Sophie says “oh well, at least now my clothes will match me”, and goes walking slowly through the streets ready to start a new phase in her life. She approaches old age with a simple curiosity that grows to a state of joy and contentment.

She seeks out Howl and his magical powers, and ends up working in his castle as a caretaker and housekeeper. There, she becomes the latest addition to an oddball family, each with their own personal curse: the fire-demon Calcifer (Billy Crystal) who must keep the castle powered and will kill Howl if he stops burning; Markyl, Howl’s apprentice who is talented beyond his years but must adopt an old man’s beard in order for people to take him seriously; Turnip-Head, a former prince now scarecrow who bounces around on a stick, following Sophie, and often landing upside-down in a ditch; and Howl himself, who’s heart has gone missing, is avoiding the King’s war draft, and transforms into a winged creature at night to fight untold of demons.

Miyazaki draws together many elements that flesh out Howl’s universe. From a political landscape rife with real world issues, to a detailed geography featuring several countries and even an otherworldly dimension, to a believable network of witches and wizards and demons, Howl’s world is much more contained and structured than those seen in Princess Mononoke or Spirited Away. This, however, may also be the film’s drawback, as the viewer spends much time keeping tabs of everyone’s alliances, where they came from, figuring out whom is cursed by whom, who transforms into what, and remembering where exactly everyone is located. At its worst it can be frustrating, at its best it distracts from the wonderful story and impeccable visuals.

The idea of transformation seems to be the central theme. The Wicked Witch of the Waste is cleverly named, for, embodying the ideals of the West, she is superficial, greedy, fat and lazy. She is carried around in a hansom cab, perpetually sweating, heavily bejeweled and ostentatious with every breath. When her transformation comes she turns into a kindly old woman, at times senile, though still tunnel-visioned with greed for (literally) Howl’s heart. Her only lucid moments are those of selfish wanting.

In fact, none of the characters change too much with their metamorphosis. Howl remains childish and dashing, noble and petulant. Sophie is forever caring and kind and bottling up her frustration with her circumstances. An interesting aspect of the film is how Sophie once in awhile, temporarily, morphs back into a younger version of herself, sometimes as a teenager, sometimes seemingly in her thirties or forties, and yet it is never dwelled upon or made a cause for rejoice. Like the Moving Castle itself demonstrates, change is a part of life, and no matter where you go or what you look like, you are never anything but yourself, never anywhere but home.

Each character and their respective curse comes with an important clause: you cannot talk about your curse. Therefore, Sophie is unable to tell her new friends of her true age, Howl dashes off at night to place only Calcifer knows about, and Calcifer cannot tell Sophie the secrets of Howl or the castle. Even Turnip-Head never gets to relay his story until the end, for he no longer has a functioning mouth. Miyazaki ventures to show that in order to grow you must not dwell on the past. In demonstration, the most rewarding part of Sophie’s life starts when she is ninety years old, and Howl and Calcifer must give up the castle in order to truly find their homes.

The messages and themes of Howl’s Moving Castle may seem overly cheesy or simplistic to some, but I’m willing to bet that merely depends on your stage in life, regardless of age. The deftest stroke of Miyazaki is that he restores a sense of wonder, intelligence, grace, and respect to two age groups that are often seen as a generation off from being “real people”.

Ever the humanist, Miyazaki’s concerns and politics may not reach everyone, but even the darkest cynic and the hardest realist cannot marvel at the visual magic on screen.

Jef is a Halfway Staff Writer

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