1996, the best year in movie history, pt. 34: Whisper of the heart

This movie was released in Japan in 1995 and in the USA in 1996. The version I know is the one dubbed into English.

I first saw it in 2007. I was twenty-five, still tossed by youth’s tempests. The movie affected me considerably.

Revisiting it, what impresses me is its patience. It isn’t obvious, at first, that the movie is a love story. For a long while, it mostly just follows fourteen-year-old Shizuko in and out of buildings and trains, and up and down the sidewalks and outdoor stairways of hilly Tokyo – all of which are drawn with the naturalistic clarity that is typical of Studio Ghibli.

Shizuko is a solitary person, but she is not a loner. Her parents, sister, and friends occupy stable positions in her life. But she is driven by her own interests, so that these other people occasionally complain that she neglects them. She also neglects her studies.

She is obsessed with motifs and feelings. She does some writing. Mostly, though, she just absorbs as many stories as she can, reading dozens of library books.

She notices that one book after another has been checked out by the same borrower. She dreams of meeting this person. She even makes a few inquiries about him. But she is a little too wrapped up in her own idea of what he is like. She imagines that he is unfailingly polite (it turns out that he is not). What she does sense, correctly, is his offbeat drivenness; in this respect, she and the other book borrower are as alike as two peas.

Then, one day, she follows a strange cat around a neighborhood and ends up wandering into a shop with some marvelous antiques. …

I had better stop describing the plot. This isn’t a suspenseful movie, but it has secrets. What is revealed isn’t the solution to any great mystery, but, rather, depth of feeling.

“You complete me,” Tom Cruise says to Renée Zellweger in Jerry Maguire. This movie, Whisper of the Heart, has similar utterances, delivered with an earnestness several orders of magnitude more powerful than in most love stories.

The movie is about unrecognized love …

unrequited love …

lovers tragically separated …

and lovers who manage to come together – who, in the fullness of time, might indeed complete one another as well as lovers could do …

who, after some struggle, are able to express this out loud.

(I think, also, of another exquisite Japanese movie, The Garden of Words, and its shattering declaration: “You saved me!”)

It’s possible to interpret the lovers’ condition, their being-in-love, as age-specific. They feel and speak so strongly because they are so young. Of course, there is something to this, but to lay all the emphasis on this point would be a mistake. Another important character, an old man, is shown to feel his own love just as intensely.

The division isn’t between the young and the old, but between those who are romantic and those who are not – or, perhaps, between those who speak frankly about their passion and those who do not (or, between those who are ready to do so, and those who are not). There is a delightful scene in which the two main lovers talk intimately upon a rooftop, in full view of a crowd of gawkers. The lovers simply ignore them. They have important things to tell one another.

As in Jerry Maguire, it’s the frankness about idealism that makes the movie so good. It’s a pleasure to watch people who are passionate about living excellently – and who recognize and love each other for it.

(The music in this video isn’t from the movie. YouTube has lots of videos made by fans of Whisper of the Heart who have mixed different scenes together and set them to other music.)

Closing credits

The blog looks different today. The old template was faltering: stray marks wouldn’t go away; strings of text couldn’t be highlighted or copied; links were frozen. I was displeased that readers couldn’t navigate to the YouTube video of “Banstyle/Sappys Curry” by simply clicking on the link that I had posted. So, I reformatted everything. The commenting function has been disabled – for now. I’d like to put in a virtual guestbook or bulletin board instead. Subject labels also have disappeared from individual posts (for now). You can access them via the sidebar, which you can unhide by clicking on the three small horizontal lines at the top of the blog.

The picture of poor little Juan Pueblo, the cartoon character, has been removed from the front page. It can still be accessed, via the sidebar. The blog’s colors are as garish as ever, but its fonts have been cleaned up. I am now using Heuristica, a clone of Utopia, which is the typeface of Philosophy & Public Affairs. And I’ve decided to begin punctuating as most other web writers do – outside of the hyperlinks.

Are these changes pleasing?

I’d welcome comments, but no one would be able to post them.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

As the year ends, I remain unemployed, and COVID continues to ravage. My own health improves, thanks to Air Supply (my CPAP machine). Samuel gains new abilities; Karin does mighty deeds. Jasper and Ziva are a bit neglected. I’ve been reading the Bible more and going to church less; since the weather turned, we’ve settled for choruses and sermons on YouTube. I am utterly weary of long, drawn-out video conferences. C.P. Snow’s books are a comfort; most nights, I read two, three, or four short chapters. (As it happens, the books suggest parallels between our own COVID-era lives and those of Londoners during the Blitz.) I’ve enjoyed the prose of two books about the Scottish Highlands: A Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, by Samuel Johnson, and Kidnapped, by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Moreover, I’m delighted that Ecuador’s national soccer team has been playing so well.

It’s a privilege to be isolated in a house owned by my parents, and not in an apartment. It’s even beneficial to mow the lawn, and – like yesterday – to shovel snow. These things allow me to burn calories and eat more Chinese takeout (and more sandwiches from Jimmy John’s, whose manager called one day to thank us for our loyalty).

Clearly, I have little cause for complaint.

Great is thy faithfulness, O God, my father. … Morning by morning, new mercies I see. All I have needed, thy hand hath provided. Great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me.

Christmas Eve

Karin has got the afternoon off, and she’ll have the whole day off tomorrow. Samuel is glad to have his mother at home. I’m glad for a few minutes alone while Karin and Samuel watch the 1994 version of Little Women.

Last week was just awful for Samuel … and for me … and for Karin … and then a switch was flipped, and Samuel became delighted with the world. Today, he played for hours on the floor. Last week, whenever he was miserable he would insist on being held, and if he wasn’t held, he’d refuse to sleep. Now that the switch has been flipped, he’s been going to sleep by himself after a couple of minutes of listening to “Banstyle/Sappys Curry.”

We’ve noticed a couple of new molars poking out through his gums.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Barcelona played the first leg of Ecuador’s title-deciding round last night, at home against Liga de Quito. It was the first game I’d seen in real time all season. Liga scored as soon as I put the game on, but Barcelona drew level within a few minutes. The final score was 1 to 1. The second leg will be played at the same time next week, in Liga’s stadium, where Barcelona’s record is abysmal.

Movies of the 2010s

The honor roll, continued.

1. Tabloid (dir. Errol Morris, 2010)
2. We Are the Best! (dir. Lukas Moodysson, 2013)
3. L’illusionniste (dir. Sylvain Chomet, 2010)
4. Another Year (dir. Mike Leigh, 2010)
5. It Follows (dir. David Robert Mitchell, 2014)
6. Bridesmaids (dir. Paul Feig, 2011)
7. Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol (dir. Brad Bird, 2011)
8. Hail, Caesar! (dir. Ethan and Joel Coen, 2016)
9. The Trip (dir. Michael Winterbottom, 2010)
10. 56 Up (dir. Michael Apted, 2012)
11. Queen & Country (dir. John Boorman, 2014)

Several of these movies were released in the previous decade, in the last weeks of 2010. So, clarification is in order.

To qualify for the list, a movie needs to have ended its first run in U.S. theaters no earlier than January 1, 2011. This is a fair criterion because I wouldn’t have been able to see several of these movies as soon as they appeared in theaters, in 2010.

Besides, if I hadn’t adopted this criterion, this would’ve been a sorry list indeed. Like the previous list, this one makes it clear that I stopped paying attention to art and culture halfway through the decade. I guess I no longer view the world with wide-eyed wonder.

Or maybe the new stuff really does lack freshness. A common complaint, nowadays, is that too many movies are sequels or prequels or adaptations. As it happens, this list includes three sequels: Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, 56 Up, and Queen & Country. And the first two of these would go on to have sequels of their own (as would The Trip).

But the three sequels on the list are pretty darn cool. Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol revitalized an ailing franchise. Queen & Country, which seems never to have held much commercial promise, is a self-contained appendix to Hope and Glory, which was a minor hit in 1988; its very existence is miraculous.

56 Up is, of course, a part of the greatest string of sequels in documentary history; that they are sequels is their whole point.

Tabloid is not a sequel, but it’s quintessential Errol Morris. This means that it’s what 75% of those true crime docs on Netflix are trying to copy. They are Tabloid’s spiritual sequels, or they would be, if they were good enough.

Tabloid is my no. 1. I thought long and hard about making either We Are the Best! or L’illusionniste no. 1. They may as well all be tied.

The Trip and 56 Up first appeared on British TV.

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Music albums of the 2010s

Contrary to popular belief, 2020 is the last year of the 2010s, not the first year of the 2020s. (The first year of the Common Era was AD/CE 1, not AD/CE 0; the last year of the Common Era’s first decade was AD/CE 10.)

So: this is a good time to publish some rankings.

Tonight, I offer my five favorite music albums of the 2010s. Bear in mind, I’ve hardly listened to anything new since 2013 or 2014.

2016’s Wildflower was an exception. I just couldn’t keep away from the Avalanches’ first album in sixteen years. (I’ve yet to listen to We Will Always Love You, released this month.)

Without further ado, here are the top five:

1. Destroyer, Kaputt (2011)
2. Grimes, Visions (2012)
3. Daft Punk, Random Access Memories (2013)
4. The Avalanches, Wildflower (2016)
5. Kendrick Lamar, Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City (2012)

Nothing very unknown or surprising here.

It’s not that I don’t listen to music any more: this year, I’ve averaged two hours per day on Spotify. It’s that I’ve been going back, again and again, to the well, the well being Julee Cruise.

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December’s poem

… may as well be about 2020.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

In Memoriam A.H.H.
OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 106

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

(Alfred, Lord Tennyson)

A few minor observations

Karin does not have COVID-19.

On the other hand, we figured out that next year, my health insurance will cost another $200 every month.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

I’ve been going on long walks with the boy. Today’s walk was a little cold, a little misty. Samuel slept in his stroller.

Earlier, visiting his great-grandparents, he’d had plenty of excitment.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Homecomings is this month’s book by C.P. Snow. It’s the seventh of the Strangers and Brothers novels. It’s only the second book to treat the narrator’s home life in any detail.

A theme of Strangers and Brothers is that character, career, and domesticity are all linked in profound and unexpected ways. I’m not sure if the narrator’s rather drastically compartmentalized presentation is an oversight by Snow or a clever, ironical reinforcement of this theme.

No fighting, no biting!

Karin was to’ve had a small medical procedure this week, but it was postponed when her throat turned sticky. Then, today, Indiana’s governor announced stricter health measures. There’s nothing wrong with that, since Indiana has flared up, COVID-wise; but now it’s less likely that Karin will be treated before the end of the year, and if she isn’t treated then, she won’t receive certain insurance benefits.

On Monday, she was tested for COVID-19. We’ll be surprised if she has it. She only ever showed the one symptom, and it went away.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Meanwhile, Jasper and Ziva have been fighting colossal battles, and little Samuel has found a new pleasure: snuggling with his parents and then biting them.

So, from time to time, I read to my children from No Fighting, No Biting!, by Else Holmelund Minarik and Maurice Sendak.

The story takes a rather dark turn in the chapters about the two juvenile alligators and their Stranger Danger.

Reuniting, pt. 2

As Quito celebrated its fiestas, my high school class held its twenty-year reunion, online. Some 35–40 former students and school workers joined in.

A few who were in Quito filmed themselves walking outside with their COVID-19 masks on (they are legally required to wear them in public, even when out of doors). One of these classmates left the video conference, came back, left again, and came back again. In one appearance, she was traveling in a car; in another, she and her family were eating fritada at an hostería; and in yet another, she seemed to be riding a horse.

The rest of us just hunkered down in front of our computers and phones. One person took this screenshot:

I kept thinking how everyone looked just the same.

Well, I suppose we’ve changed quite a bit, as this photo from our senior trip attests:

Even so, during the reunion, I had no difficulty recognizing faces, voices, gestures, or personalities. I hardly said anything – the larger the gathering, the less I’m inclined to speak – but I took great pleasure in viewing and listening to everyone.

Were I to meet any of these people again, we would accept each other without much trouble, or so I should like to think.

Highsmith; Dickens; Potter; Schulz

We had to tell Karin’s dad that we couldn’t attend his Christmas party this year due to COVID-19. He looked terribly sad. Then he perked up when he saw Patricia Highsmith’s The Price of Salt on my bookshelf. It seems he enjoyed watching the movie Carol, which is based upon The Price of Salt. (Also, his girlfriend’s name is Carol.)

I haven’t read The Price of Salt or seen Carol, but what I am reading, for the first time, is A Christmas Carol.

It’s pretty funny. Some do-gooders ask Scrooge to donate to a homeless shelter during the Christmas season, and Scrooge is like, What? Are there not enough prisons?

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Beatrix Potter is hard to read to Samuel – we don’t often get farther than two or three pages before he loses interest – but the other day we did make it through all of The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies (the link is to the Project Gutenberg page). I kept laughing out loud, which must have been very confusing for Samuel.

Then I remembered how, in Snoopy Come Home, Snoopy laughs and laughs at Miss Helen Sweetstory’s Bunny Wunny books until the librarians throw him out onto the sidewalk.

I wonder if Schulz was recalling his own experience of reading Beatrix Potter.