Author: Nathan Chazan
Only Yesterday is showing Saturday March 12 at 9:15, and Sunday March 13 at 4:30 at Cornell Cinema. For more information, please visit cinema.cornell.edu
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One of the finest theatrical experiences I’ve had in recent years was the Toronto premiere of Isao Takahata’s most recent film, The Tale of the Princess Kaguya. The film adapts a classic Japanese folktale about an old man who finds a child in a bamboo shoot, who grows to womanhood in a few short years and is spirited away to the moon. Every frame is a love letter to animation, inky forms of fabrics and bodies in motion. The film has a transcendent, lighter-than-air feeling which runs through all of Takahata’s earnest, exceptionally crafted films, animated in every sense of the word.
Isao Takahata is best known in America as the Ghibli director who isn’t Hayao Miayazaki, but his Ghibli films are actually late work in a long, accomplished career. Takahata was one of the original directors at Toei Animation, who in the 60s produced lush, colorful features that could compete with the imported Disney fare. The most ambitious of these was Isao Takahata’s directorial debut Horus: Prince of the Sun, an epic adventure-yarn about a brave young boy who saves a village from an evil ice king. Horus is a masterpiece of animation, featuring lovingly expressive movements and details. Notably, the film featured a young huntress character named Hilda, whose youthful independence and profound connection to nature would inform later Ghibli heroines.
After spending 20 years in television while producing his protégé Hayao Miyazaki’s exuberant early films, Takahata returned to directing with Grave of the Fireflies, a drama set amidst the starvation and air raids of 1945 Japan. The film is a harrowing portrait of childhood in poverty amidst the ravages of war, and is often described as an anti-war movie. Yet the strength of Grave of the Fireflies is in its moments of playfulness, brother and sister finding joy and laughter in the midst of incomprehensible tragedy. As in Takahata’s other films, Grave of the Fireflies looks back fondly on the games of childhood, small joys serving as a beacon of hope in the face of destruction.
Takahata is a slow, methodical filmmaker, so it is surprising that his next film, Only Yesterday, came along only three years after his last, and happens to be his masterpiece. The film follows Taeko, a young woman at a crossroads in her life, on a visit to her hometown in the rural countryside. As she wanders about familiar neighborhoods and encounters old friends, she remembers episodes from her childhood, brought to life in vivid colors. It is the artistry of Only Yesterday that makes the film a delight, every little moment a gorgeous spectacle, every emotion a tour-de-force. Only Yesterday is a tale of personal recollection, and childhood discovery re-lived vicariously both by Taeko on her visit home, and the viewer who is sure to be absorbed in the film. All of this is rendered in Studio Ghibli’s fine animation, as glorious as any of Miyazaki’s wild fantasias.
The moment in Only Yesterday which I will never forget occurs early on in the film, when young Taeko experiences her first childhood crush. She’s walking down the street and suddenly, as if nothing has happened, each step takes her higher off the ground until she is no longer walking, but soaring through the air, uplifting the audience’s spirit along with her in a moment of giddy joy. It is sublime moments such as this that make Only Yesterday the crowning achievement of Takahata’s storied career, and a truly remarkable film. I hope you will join us at Cornell Cinema this weekend to take flight and watch this unforgettable classic on the big screen, the way it was meant to be seen.
For information on future film showings, please follow Cornell Cinema on Facebook and Twitter! You can also keep up-to-date at their website: cinema.cornell.edu
