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Top Ten Animated Films with Guest Writer Tucker Meijer: #2 Critics' Take

Top Ten Animated Films with Guest Writer Tucker Meijer: #2 Critics' Take

Here is Tucker’s take on my choice for our 2nd best film Pinocchio and my take on his choice, Akira. Below are our original posts.


Tucker’s Take on Jeremy’s #2: Pinocchio

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Pinocchio is one of those movies that everyone knows about but not everyone has seen. Of course everyone knows about the fact that if Pinocchio tells a like his nose gets longer. Everyone knows about the character named Jiminy Crickey. Everyone knows about the fact that there’s a whale somehow involved in the story. The fact that these facts are so ingrained in the modern zeitgeist speaks to Pinocchio’s enduring legacy as one of Disney’s best and most beloved films.

 Before writing this, I was trying to think about what exactly makes Pinocchio so great and remembered and referenced by so many. Yes, the adventure is a big part, as is the memorable characters and groundbreaking (at the time) animation. But there was one idea that I kept coming back to as I was thinking: the fact that Pinocchio is trying to become a “real boy.” Put another way, he is trying to grow up.

 As Jeremy calls out in his review, Pinocchio goes through the trials and tribulations of being young and then, later, growing up. Like everyone in the world, he makes mistakes, he lies, he hangs out with the “wrong crowd” but at the movie’s conclusion, Pinocchio has grown up in the way that he and the audience both wanted. His growth is organic; his mistakes inform his choices going forward in the film and he learns from his past. If this isn’t the mark of a human, then I don’t know what is.

 This was the fact that I kept coming back to because it feels so organic to me. In my own reviews or in my thoughts about Jeremy’s pick, I often find myself writing about the authenticity, realness or rawness of a certain film. For some reason, the way that I relate to characters is one of the metrics that I use when deciding if I like or dislike a film. Often, I don’t always agree or like the characters, but if they feel “real” (a fact that, especially in an animated movie, is not always the case), then I am more likely to enjoy the movie.

 I love Pinocchio because of this; it feels authentic, real, and something that everyone has gone through while growing up. Those that want the best for him and hope that he learns from the mistakes that he will inevitably make surround Pinocchio. There’s something beautiful about the way that this puppet is so human; it strikes a chord with me. This is the true magic of Pinocchio. It’s a human story told with the cloak of fantastical elements and adventure, two ingredients that make it as engaging as it is pedagogical.

 I wish that I had more to say about Pinocchio but 1) I feel like Jeremy already covered a lot of my points and 2) I hope that everyone takes time to watch this film. Pinocchio truly speaks for itself and is a timeless story that has a lot to say about growing up. It is for this reason that Pinocchio withstands the test of time and is as relevant in 2019 as it was when it was first released. Few movies have achieved this and few movies ever will.  


Jeremy’s Take on Tucker’s #2: Akira

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Watching Akira for the first time is one of the few experiences I have had of watching something completely new. I had never seen anything like it. As Tucker says it is certainly composed of familiar elements: a dystopian future, genetic tempering of humans, a bildungsroman, etc; and yet, it felt completely new. Akira pulses with life and mystery. 

 At the center of the story involving conspiracies, the manipulation of the human genome, gangs and social economics, is the relationship between Kaneda and Tetsuo. Kaneda has long been the popular kid, the best at racing bikes and being cool. Tetsuo, his best friend, is both a true friend and also jealous. The fact that these two conflicting emotions exist in the same character does not make him confusing, but rather, more real. Tetsuo has been made fun of his entire life and Kaneda has been there to stand up for him. Unfortunately, Kaneda does not know that Tetsuo loves him for helping him, but also resents him as his aide makes Tetsuo feel even more inferior. This relationship is so real and true unlike the simplistic similar relationship between Steve Rogers (aka Captain America) and his best friend Bucky Barnes (aka the Winter Soldier or Lone Wolf). The tragedy of Akira is that Tetsuo is finally gifted with what he always wanted, power. With that power, he loses his control over his Jungian shadow or Freudian Id. The confrontation at the end, when Tetsuo is confronted by Kaneda and transforms into a monster is heartbreaking. 

 In college at NYU, I took a class called “World Cultures: Japan” taught by a film professor. He approached Japanese culture from analyzing anime. One of the films we studied was Akira. I was so excited going into it as seeing Akira when I was thirteen was one of the great film experiences of my life. It had been released at the Towne theater in San Jose, the same year as The Ghost in the Shell. They did a double feature and I saw both. My initial reaction was that I loved Akira and I hated Ghost in the Shell. After studying both with Professor Fujimoto, my opinions of the two films switched. 

 Professor Fujimoto went out on a limb to explain that the film Akira is an unsuccessful translation of the source material because it takes symbols that come with a great deal of inherent meaning in Japanese culture and fuses them together without a connecting thread. The movie as a result becomes a jumble of images that don’t quite add up. How does that traditional use of the symbolism of Tokyo Olympic Stadium connect to the use of gangs connect to other famous symbolic buildings located in Neo Tokyo? 

Years after being disappointed that the mystery of Akira was revealed to me to be a hot mess, I have come around to re-examining the film. I think the film presents the best way to go about seeing the movie in its own visuals. One of the most striking visuals in the film is the beginning bike race. Motorcycles have always been a symbol of rebellion, of male teenage testosterone. The way the animators chose to create a drag in color behind the bike to suggest the speed of the moving bike is an extraordinary visual. It creates an excitement, a feeling of moving at dangerous speeds. I think that is the way we should approach Akira and why it has impacted so many people. It is a wild ride. If you hang on for dear life, it is an experience unlike any other. If you slow down to stop and analyze… it sometimes doesn’t hold together, not because it is poorly made, but because it attempts too much. It incorporates too much. It’s trying to say too much. The movie very much resembles the city of Neo Tokyo, a hodgepodge of old and new buildings seemingly without a design, but it does have one, even if it doesn’t completely make sense. Yet, I would always take a movie that attempts greatness and has too many ideas to express than a film that settles for mediocrity.


Tucker’s #2: Akira

Before I fully get into my review, I want to quickly recommend an animated Christmas movie that I saw last night: Klaus. I’m wary of films made exclusively for Netflix since I am still a firm believer in the fact that movies are meant to be seen in a theater and not on a computer. But I was pleasantly surprised by Klaus, which is essentially the origin story of Santa Claus. It’s forgettable, but it’s also a whole lot of fun with a surprising amount of heart as well (yes, I did cry a couple times). A great find, just in time for the holidays.

Now, the meat of the review. Each of the movies from Japan that I have written about on this list brings something to the table; from the impeccably created world of Spirited Away to strong-willed protagonist of Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, there is something special about Japanese animation. For me, Akira is the movie that takes all the amazing ingredients that make an animated movie great – the characters, the world, the narrative – and turns it into something incredible. 

I first saw Akira in my junior year of college as part of a class about Japanese media that primarily centers around the apocalypse (it was the classic liberal arts class on an incredibly niche topic that actually had a lot of content - I loved it). It makes sense that the film was on the syllabus; the apocalypse is the very thing that has created the world of Akira

In other movies, the apocalypse signals the end of something bad and ushers in an era of goodness. This is not the case with Neo-Tokyo, a city that has risen from the ashes of what was once Tokyo. Neo-Tokyo is overrun with crime, corruption, terrorism, and violence. It’s not a pretty world, but it’s a comprehensive one and director Katsuhiro Otomo makes sure that Neo-Tokyo is fully rendered in all its dirtiness and darkness. 

While the world is fascinating, the plot of Akira is not particularly groundbreaking. After developing psychic powers, the government attempts to track down Tetsuo Shima. This is the main narrative thread, but the movie is really tied together by disparate threads and characters that make the story whiz along at the same speed of the film’s motorcycle gangs. There is an evil government, there is the motorcycle gang that gets into trouble, there is the person who has been experimented on by said government. All of these characters swirl together in the mechanical dystopian soup of Neo-Tokyo, forming a rich and detailed space in which the audience sits with for the duration of the film.

At times Akira is shockingly violent, but these moments contribute to the harshness of the world of Neo-Tokyo. It almost signals a warning: this is what we will be like if the apocalypse ever hits. Japan, already having experienced one form of an apocalyptic event with the atomic bomb, knows what that is like. Akira is almost a parable for what could happen after another event. It’s this kind of prescience that makes Akira an incredible science-fiction film; it predicts a world that is not too far off, since, in a sense, it has happened before. 
Akira is an achievement that has gained a cult following and for good reason. It’s layered, entertaining, and most of all, a warning. It’s a pressing film and an important one and for that reason, it almost made it to my #1.


Jeremy’s #2: Pinocchio 

 It is impossible to understate the significance of Walt Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’ contribution to animation, and even cinema. Sergei Eisenstein, who himself is one of the great film directors (Battleship Potemkin, Ivan the Terrible Part I and II) hailed Snow White as the greatest film ever made. Made in 1937, two years before The Wizard of Oz, the world had never seen a world as magical as Snow White’s. The use of color, the creation of animals to aid Snow White with her chores, the music numbers, including her beautiful “Someday my Prince Will Come” and the ever energetic “Heigh Ho”, the helpful Dwarfs who fall in love with Snow White just as we do, Snow White was a leap forward in animation, using techniques to make consistent background cells and upping the number of frames to be consistent per second. This had been done before in five-minute shorts, but never for a feature-length film. Snow White gave birth to the animated film and Disney forever cemented himself as a visionary in cinema. 

That being said, for me, the great Walt Disney animated film came after the innovation of Snow White. Yes, there were new techniques of animation developed in his later films and Fantasia played with sound like no movie before it, even though none quite lived up to the historical importance of Snow White. That being said though, Disney’s follow up to Snow White, Pinocchio, made in 1940, is a nearly perfect film; one of the greatest of all time. From creating memorable lasting characters, to providing genuine terror, to showcasing the hero’s journey in such a masterful well that few have matched it (The Wizard of Oz, Princess Bride, and Star Wars: A New Hope might be such films), Pinocchio remains the film that critics and audiences come back to time after time.

The film begins with an older man, who has for generations made toys for other boys and girls, wishing and praying to a star that he too might one day have a boy. The real desire for fatherhood, from a lonely man in his elder years, is such a moving image. Geppetto’s desire for someone to love, to care for, to father is such a fundamental human need. Here, a good man who has spent his days making other children happy, hopes that one day he can make toys for his own child. After his prayers, he goes to bed, but not before being heard by someone looking for a warm place to spend the night.

Hop in Jiminy Cricket, who in this movie became one of the great characters in all of cinema. After seeing Geppetto go to sleep, he sings “When You Wish Upon a Star”, a song that soars into our hearts and expresses the yearnings of all those who are lonely and hopeful. Then, the Blue Fairy appears to grant Geppetto’s wish. She transforms his latest and greatest creation, the puppet Pinocchio, into a living being. Not being quite a “real boy” yet, she entrusts his care to Jiminy Cricket who she dubs his conscience. She informs Pinocchio that only he can turn himself into a real boy. That her powers do not grant her that ability. Allowing Pinocchio to contain the power to transform himself reminds the audience of our own power to decide our future.

Pinocchio is the epitome of what it means to be young. He wants to please everyone he meets, especially his father. He wants to fit in and be just like everyone else. On his first day of school, he marches off to school, knowing he will do the right thing. 

This is the beginning of the Hero’s Journey; the journey we all take in life to go from being young to grown-up. For the Hero’s Journey, the hero must have a call, an awakening. In this case, Pinocchio’s is to become a real boy. He sets off on a quest to do this, not knowing that which awaits him. To do so, he must journey beyond the threshold of his known existence. Right away though, he meets a shady character: J. Worthington Foulfellow (has there been a better named character, ever?) who like Mephistopheles tempts him with dreams of glory and acting. Man… to be young again. To be so easily swept up in flights of fancy that are so tempting and seem so real. Like all of us, Pinocchio, at first, makes bad decisions. It is in these decisions that we learn and grow. 

Wanting to become a famous actor, he journeys with Foulfellow, away from school and his conscience to join Stromboli’s puppet show. Foulfellow realizes he can make a big sum by selling Pinocchio to Stromboli. Foulfellow always reminded me of the Duke from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. But, like so many times, the dream proves to be less than imagined. In fact, this is where Disney goes to extremes. Basically, a form of child slavery, Pinocchio is taken by Stromboli and locked in a cage, told he will only be let out to perform and, if not, be made into firewood. This truly frightened me as a child because it too strikes at the heart of all fears: being responsible for never seeing your family again. While he is away, Geppetto launches on his own quest to find his son. 

Eventually, Jiminy comes to save the day and to teach Pinocchio one of the most classic lessons of all children: do not lie. The famous scene of his nose growing is embedded into our common culture and proves to be a moving moment even to this day. It will not be the last mistake he makes. It also demonstrates how lying for us comes from fear of being responsible. And when we lie, we often compound that lie with other lies to try and distract from the feeling of guilty we hold. Pinocchio knows he made the wrong decision, but it is hard for him to admit his own responsibility in it.

After escaping Stromboli, Pinocchio, again, finds himself not following the right path and instead going to a fantasy island where he can be young and a kid forever, or so he is told. The fear of growing up when young is real. The idea of playing forever and never having any responsibility is a truly captivating idea. This of course has led to other immortal works such as J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan. It is here that Pinocchio symbolically reaches teenage years. He gets drunk. He steals. He rebels against authority and slowly, without realizing it, he is becoming a literal jackass: the fate of all male teenagers. Realizing what is going on, and in another truly frightening scene, Pinocchio sees the Coachman (voiced by the same actor who plays Stromboli) driving children transformed into donkeys onto a boat with a whip. Here, once again, his conscience comes to save him. 

At this point, Pinocchio realizes the importance of home and returns only to find out that his father long since left to find him. Pinocchio realizing that he is responsible for this, ventures off to find him. Unfortunately, his father has been swallowed by the giant Whale Monstro who sleeps on the bottom of the ocean. Tying a rock to his tail (we are all scarred by our teenage years), he drops himself into the ocean to find his father. Eventually, he does and having grown up, realizes how he can save everyone. 

This is all our journey, but so often we don’t recognize the magic of our own lives and the power of our own decisions. We chide ourselves for our mistakes rather than grow and learn from them. Pinocchio stands the test of time as a masterpiece unparalleled by anything else Disney himself ever made. The movie is magic itself, an adventure, full of terror and joy, wonders and horrors. It speaks to generation after generation. In fact, the movie is so magical that the opening shot of the film in the town still to this day… we have no idea how Disney did it. 

The opening shot had to have been filmed via a rolling piece of art, but with the lens and the depth of field available, the drawing must have been the size of a room, attached to a spool that rolled it as the camera moved. We still don’t know how he did it… I’d rather not find out because some things are indeed magic. 



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