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From Up on Poppy Hill

9 years ago1,248 words

I just watched the anime film From Up on Poppy Hill, by Studio Ghibli, and I'd like to write a bit about what it made me think about love, longing, family, tradition and such!




Studio Ghibli films are highly renowned for good reason; I'm certainly a fan! They seem to come in two types, though: fantasy adventures, and more realistic works that deal with Japanese culture and traditions in particular. While I prefer the former due to their fascinating otherworldliness, Japan's culture is so distinctly different to what I'm familiar with that even those based on reality are like seeing into another world for me. The beautiful, often aethereal art and gorgeous music make them a joy to watch as well.

I didn't know what to expect from From Up on Poppy Hill. I watched it because it was by Studio Ghibli rather than because I knew anything about it. It turns out that it's a realistic Japanese traditions romance story primarily, which strongly reminded me of Whisper of the Heart (also by Studio Ghibli). Both are about 'high school'-aged girls and the attractive but mysterious guys they fall in love with.

One of the things I like most about Studio Ghibli is its frequent use of female protagonists, especially girls who are relatively plain. Not only is it refreshing, but it offers insight into the sorts of stories that people of the sex I'm not might find appealing. I make stories myself, and always hope they'll speak to young women (for various reasons), but I'm well aware that my own preferences are strongly tinted by the fact that I'm a male, and apparently not the sort that women find desirable... So my work ends up being about my own wish fulfillment rather than fulfilling any wishes of women.

In this thing, the female protagonist is introduced as a responsible and respected but fairly ordinary young woman in charge of looking after a boarding house and her younger siblings while her mother is away. She's not a distant and mysterious object of lust to be acquired, as female love interests often are in stories with male leads.

The male love interest, by comparison, is introduced as he jumps off a rooftop in front of a crowd, who fawn and cheer about how amazing and cool and brave and sexy he is. The female protagonist helps him out of the pool of water he landed in, but gets shy and dismisses him as obnoxious for his recklessness.

This "what a jerk that guy is" thing seems to be a common seed from which apparently desirable relationships are grown... As it's intensity of emotion that's the catalyst rather than the positive or negative charge, hate will suffice as well as a brighter feeling, or so I've been told. This bothers me as someone who tries to be nice, since I know I lack that confident, impressive edge myself. I don't want to be seen as a 'jerk' so I try not to be one, but that just means I never make that impact, I never plant that seed.

It all makes me wonder how women feel about the super-sexy female love interests in stories meant for men. Do they get bothered by men wanting that rather than what they are themselves? Hmm.

We make our stories to indulge our unrealistic fantasies... but I wonder if that's a good thing. Is it right to portray these fantasy partners as ideals? Doesn't it just make everyone unhappy about what they have to make do with in the real world? I wonder.



I'm not sure whether it's these stories in particular, or Japanese culture in general, but there's a certain gentle innocence to the bonding process that they depict that I find particularly charming. There's no 'u so hot babe' or sexting, no crass, lustful flirting... Not even any hugs or kissing. It's all so restrained, kept at a distance (they walk so far apart!), limited to blushes and unsaid thoughts, and, well, I suppose it makes me reminisce about the innocence of youth. It's unrealistically beautiful, and I know it wouldn't be fulfilling (nor would it last) in the real world, but I can't help but wish I could experience such a thing myself anyway.

There came a point in the story where the characters felt they couldn't be together (as there often is in these sorts of stories), and the pain and heartache they felt from the resulting loss of hope - the hole in the heart where before there was a glow of possibility - resonated with me and stung more than it might have in the past. It does hurt to see the radiant window you thought might lead to Heaven smashed into scarring shards.

And yet it seems this unobtainability is a key part in the desirability formula. It's something I'd like to ramble more about in another post, but we do want what we can't have, so pulling something away only makes the longing stronger. There's no room for idealistic fantasising if the object of your attention is always right there in front of you, always available, never lacking. Taken for granted.

Speaking of which, the protagonist had lost her father at sea before the story had begun, and spent a large chunk of her time hoping to bring him back by hoisting maritime flags. She knew it was futile, but clung to hope anyway, and dreamed of his return, of running to his arms and weeping. While I felt her loss and longing, I felt a loss of my own, or rather a hole that's never been filled; I've never really had a family member I'd pine for in such a way, who I'd be so ecstatic to see returned to me. She showed her love interest photos of her family with such pride, too; another thing I'd never do. My lack of such strong familial bonds makes me feel like my own life is lacking certain colours that mean so much to others... though I suppose there's nothing I can do about that.

I can't really relate to the theme of tradition that these films so dearly value either. We must cherish our past, heritage and ancestors, they say, and resist the cold, soulless progress of the modern world. While I can understand the feeling, and I do very much enjoy the peaceful, simple village life they present (oh how I'd love to live in such a place, without the machines and impersonal international interaction, where everyone knows everyone else, where the future isn't too cloudy or complex), I'm excited about the new possibilities that progress presents. I wouldn't want us to stagnate, to never move beyond what we've known before for fear that new horizons can't compare to the familiar.

I feel that's something that applies a lot in life, in relationships... Clinging to what you have and know because you might not find something better. Settling for mediocrity rather than taking a chance with new things.

Anyway. I'd recommend any film by Studio Ghibli, and From Up on Poppy Hill is no exception. Their contemplative beauty is a nice change from the loud, bright animated films so frequently produced by the West. Though I know a lot of anime is just as loud and bright in its own ways, I find myself craving more of it now!