A walk through histories, of the mind and the land. Takahata takes detours into Americanization, agricultural politics, sexual awakenings, slumming, and so much more, the richness of his world elevating the personal travelogue into such a tender, sublime melancholy. This possesses a sense of reverent beauty and patiently accumulated detail worthy of Ozu and Naruse (not to mention other Ghibli works), while staying just as resistant to simplistic sentiment. It’s impossible to watch this and be cognizant of any categories of “adult” and “children’s” movies- this is a cinema of humanity, a river of memory and feeling that manifests itself in the most refined of expressions. Just look to Taeko’s questioning of her idealization of the countryside- even when it comes to the common Ghibli theme of nature’s redemptive spiritual power there’s not a single easy dynamic here. The happy ending can’t erase the deeper heartache underlying everything that came before- the realization that the memories that will stay with you most vividly are invariably the most embarrassing, painful and damning.
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