My Problem with Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 2

Video Essayist Lindsey Ellis recently released a video titled ‘The Complex Feels of Guardians V.2’. In in Ellis sharply articulates the emotional depth of the film’s ending and why it, unlike many Marvel movies, had such a profound, personal impact on her. Ellis is not alone however, judging by the critical and commercial success of Guardians Vol. 2 and the sheer number of people claiming to have left theatres in tears. I’ve made no secret of mentioning on the podcast that this is not a sentiment I share, which I honestly feel says more about me than the film. I’m in the minority, having liked Guardians Vol. 2 well enough but not thinking it’s the superior of its predecessor. When I first viewed the ending it was emotional to be sure, but to my mind it was flawed in much of the same way the rest of the film was flawed (Spoilers follow obviously).

At the end of the film Ego the Living Planet is destroyed. Peter is left on a collapsing world but at the last minute is rescued by Yondu, his surrogate father. At they leave the atmosphere Yondu, with only one spacesuit, forces the suit on Peter. Sacrificing himself to save Peter’s life. There is Yondu’s devastating death scene, then a eulogy delivered by Peter before the body is cremated, then each character reflects on the films events to Cat Stevens’ ‘Father & Son’. Finally, as Yondu’s ashes float into space the various members of Yondu’s Ravager family arrive and bid him farewell, each with a single line. The film ends with a glorious firework display as tribute to Yondu’s life.

At the time I, perhaps callously, felt like this was an excessive amount of screen time to dedicate to a character who had only ever played a supporting role in the series. Over the years I’ve witnessed many dramatic deaths and subsequent tributes impact far better with more brevity. Only a few weeks earlier I witnessed the Death of Hugh Jackman’s Logan, a character I have known for seventeen years, executed in a few minutes. What I did not realise until watching Ellis’s video was that Yondu’s farewell wasn’t really about Yondu, it was about Peter. Peter is a character defined by immaturity. He lives life in a carefree manner, refuses to acknowledge the reality of his life on Earth and preserves the archaic pop culture of his childhood. Even in Yondu’s eulogy he uses David Hassehoff to contrast his idealised father with the man he now truly considers his dad. In that scene though Peter makes a few big steps away from an overgrown 12-year-old playing space pirates to a whole and mature person. The fireworks are not just in celebration of Yondu’s life but of Peter’s growth in reaching this point.

When reflected on this is the obvious interpretation. At the time though I wasn’t in a position to make the obvious interpretation. At the time I expected Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 2 to just keep on giving me too much. Too much comedy, too much emotion, too much science fiction weirdness. And not the good kind of excess either, the kind that only serves to undermine the film. Make no mistake Guardians Vol. 2 has everything you loved about the first Guardians just frequently cranked up to an obnoxious degree. This excess consistently ruins many of the films best moments and left me too soured to appreciate the ending by the time it came. It might help to provide a few examples of where this occurs so let’s start with the thing many people like most about the series; the comedy.

Several of the jokes in Guardians Vol. 2 are built off incredibly funny ideas that are overdone in their execution. The first example that comes to mind is the fight with Abilisk in the beginning (and no, I’m not talking about the full-length Baby Groot sequence, that was awesome). The joke comes when Drax decides he can only kill the Abilisk by leaping into it’s mouth. It doesn’t work and instead he spends the fight uselessly stabbing its stomach while Peter and Gamora work together to destroy it. When they do, Drax bursts out of its stomach, laughing and cheering triumphantly, believing he’s single-handedly vanquished the beast. Which he then undercuts by declaring “I have single-handedly vanquished the beast!”. Now I recognise the need to punctuate the joke but there are ways to do this without straight-up explaining the premise of the joke. Hell, if Drax just said ‘You’re welcome’ it would’ve worked just as well.

Roughly twenty minutes later we get another example of this, even as the creative team clearly works hard to follow the basic rules of storytelling. In executing a story point, particularly a comedic one, there’s something called The Rule of Three; introduction, build up and finally payoff. This occurs when Nebula, Gamora’s rogue sister, is taken prisoner on the Guardians’ ship. She’s hungry so tries to grab some fruit which Gamora keeps away saying ‘it’s not ripe…’, that’s our introduction. The build-up comes during the fight with the Sovereign, in the confusion Nebula again tries to grab the fruit, this time Drax knocks it away, reminding us of its cruel lack of ripe. The payoff is then complete when Nebula gains the upper hand and rubs her victory in our faces by eating the fruit and...it’s not ripe. Disgusted, she winces and spits it out and declares ’It’s not ripe.’ once again over-punctuating a joke with information we already know. The reason this, to me, doesn’t work is because the punchline is not that the fruit is unripe. We know the fruit isn’t ripe. The punchline is that Nebula’s stubbornness has brought an unpleasant experience, undermining what should be a moment of badassery. Instead the only thing the line undermines is the joke itself.

Now this isn’t true of every joke in the film (I’m Mary Poppins y’all!) but it is true of enough of them. From the extended, ostentatious laughter at the name ‘Taserface’ to the cartoonish level of disgust Drax holds for Mantis. And yes I am using ‘cartoonish’ to negatively describe a film in which one of the main characters is a walking houseplant. See, comedy is often cartoonish and outlandish and unrepresentative of reality.  However at it’s best comedy does occupies an internal reality in which the character’s behaviour is consistent. We don’t believe that the Ancient Romans really behaved as portrayed in Monty Python and the Life of Brian but we do believe that’s the way the characters in the film’s world behave. When Guardians forces its characters to behave inconsistently for the sake of comedy it reminds us that these are not remarks that the characters would come to organically. They are lines in a script to be performed by actors on a set.

If this only occurred during the films comedic moments it wouldn’t be too awful. However we see the same on-the-nose writing during the films big, emotional beats too. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 really deserves praise for the amount of emotional weight it’s cramming into a goofy, summer blockbuster. Peter’s discovery of the father he never knew. Gamora and Nebula reconciling their mutual abuse at the hands of Thanos. And Rocket finally confronting the fact that he’s pushing away the only family he’s known out of fear that they’ll abandon him. However, this is also ruined by the film attempting to force the core engagement of these moments.

When Ego first begins teaching Peter how to use his powers he has him summon a ball of energy that they then pass to each other. Endearing himself to his son by affecting the fatherhood tradition of playing catch. On its own this is a very contrived moment, Ego’s actions are clearly deliberate and his motivations support this. However as he purposefully walks just far away enough for Peter to throw the ball the music swells with this big, orchestral beat. Transparently calling at it to recognise what an epic, emotional moment this is for Peter. Even though once again, we already know this.

There are other examples. Nebula and Gamora pitched fist fight ending with “You wanted to win and I just wanted a sister!” or Yondu forcing Rocket to acknowledge that he’s just like him. Character after character plainly saying how they feel and undercutting any emotional impact these statements might actually have. The most egregious though is at the end when Yondu saves Peter, declaring to him “He may have been your father but he wasn’t your Daddy.”. That moment made me stop. Throughout the entire film Michael Rooker has been acting his ass off, trying to hide the fact that Yondu cares for Peter. Letting it only slip just enough so that by the end of the film we know it, Yondu knows it and, in those final moments, Peter knows it.

I’m willing to accept this might be a personal thing. I’m pretty guarded even by British standards. But to me, emotions have the most impact when they’re arrived at organically. When characters don’t need to articulate them bluntly. When the music doesn’t have to give obvious clues to their presence. Going back to the catch scene, I think it would have worked much better if it was less obvious that Ego was setting up the whole thing. If he acted like he was really just trying to teach Peter to make a ball and it spontaneously became a game of catch from there. That might have given a better sense that Peter is genuinely endeared to Ego and thus might have some reservations about destroying him later. Instead, a lot of the emotional conflict that’s been slowly built-up is hand waved away in the final act because Peter’s motivation boils down to ‘I don’t care, he killed my Mom’.

This is probably the approach Gunn wanted to take though. As Ellis deftly explains sometimes an abusive parent can be forgiven, and sometimes they cannot. The moment reveals that he killed Peter’s mother Ego is officially beyond any sort of redemption. It’s just a shame that this sense of absolutism extends to Peter’s emotional development. Especially since a lot of victims of abusive parents never achieve this kind of moral certainty. At the end of the day this rush robbed Guardians of the Galaxy volume 2 of the emotional highs of its predecessor. Nothing in the film came close to the gentle tragedy of Groot’s Cocoon or the intensity of finally destroying Ronan.

Again though this is not to say that the film is not sweet, funny or heartfelt in places. As I said at the beginning, Guardians vol. 2 still has everything good about the first film. For most people it has more, for me it has less. But at least on re-examination I can say it’s gone up a few notches in my estimation. Thanks in no small part to the wisdom of Lindsey Ellis.

Ghost In the Shell: Erasure Steals its Identity.

Despite that title there's nothing that say a live-action Ghost in The Shell film featuring a predominantly white cast has to fail. Sure it's probably not what you want everyone talking about, but still. It's true that the original manga, and subsequent film, touched on very Japanese themes of identity and transhumanism. However as technology has evolved those very themes have come to encompass much of Western culture. Hell if we're being picky Cyberpunk only began as part of Western culture, with the debut of William Gibson's Neuromancer in 1984, a full five years ahead of Masume Shirow's manga. At it's heart Ghost in the Shell is a detective story and much of the cyberpunk aspect is set dressing inserted to realise the story's themes.

But while there's no obligation for this to be bad it apparently won't stop the creative team from trying. Taking an original idea about identity in a technological world and sucking it of all creative and thematic distinctiveness.

It's a film that's bad at pretty much every level. From the writing to the cinematography, the editing, fight choreography, set design. Frankly I wouldn't be surprised to lean if the on-set catering wasn't up to scratch. Worse still it tries to take the issues of white-washing and handwave it away with 2nd act revelations that neither serve as a consistent theme nor impact the character beyond this.

The plot is as good a place as any to start with. After opening with a faithful recreation of the original film's title sequence we awaken to discover Mira Killian. A victim of anseen terrorist attack, Mira's mind has been successfully transplanted into a top of the line, android body by the typically sinister Hanka Robotics. A year later she's a Major in Section 9, a counter-terrorist taskforce whose main case is taking down a notorious hacker named Kuse (changed from the animated film's 'Puppet Master because that would sound way too cool). While Kuse consistently seems to be one step ahead investigating him uncovers a conspiracy within Hanka that has ties to the Major's true origins, forcing the Major and Section 9 to go rogue under fire from the corporation itself.

Simple enough stuff. The only problem is that it wants to make a big deal about the Major's real identity and her reclaiming it, but only in the second act. It's almost as if they only noticed the big sore point of casting a Japanese property with a predominantly white cast and decided to insert the Mokoto identity at the last minute. Indeed in the beginning the Major seems to have no concerns about her true identity, or indeed any motivation that makes any kind of coherent sense. She defiantly declares her determination to track Kuse as being 'what she's built for' even though she and the audience know that isn't the case.

Incidentally this statement about Kuse has nothing to do with the line of dialogue she's responding to. Rather than have scenes play out organically GITS seems to just shove whatever it needs into individual scenes to communicate their respective emotions. At one point, fearing he's come to kill her, the Major refers to Bato as a 'Company Man', even though nothing about his character suggests this distinction. Seriously, the guy lazes about during briefings, drinks on the job and obviously maintains a healthy personal life. He's far better established as the 'Major's Man' even if he gets the short shrift in terms of story.

That lack of organic storytelling is what permeates through so much of Ghost in the Shell to render it hollow. Rather than build intricately designed sets with obvious dietetic function the set designers just slap a little neon tubing over modern day objects. Rather than arrange someone's office to reflect its owner's personality or the scene's tone it just shoves a bit of future tech into the background, regardless of functionality. The result is scenes which look empty. These aren't bars or offices, they're sets. These aren't conversations between two people, they're clunky lines of exposition from a script. And those aren't the (oddly deserted) streets of Japan, they're a CGI rendering dressed up with Anime artwork.

Save for the admirable efforts of the actors nothing about this film feels real. As with the original the action beats are just a pick and mix of the more iconic moments from the Manga. This time though the gaps between each beat offer little in the way of new information. Something desperately needed for this detective story. Images like the Geisha-bots, the invisible foot chase and the Tank battle just ring of fan-service. Ideas inserted into the film with no thought into how they should fit into an over arching story. Which just leaves the film feeling hollow and confused.

The Mokoto b-story only serves to clutter the already overlong A-story and changes nothing about the Major's character or informs her final descisions in the climax. A climax which, by the way, is utterly undermined by removing the weighty issues of transhumanism the original film dedicated ample time on. Reducing one of the greatest films of all time into just another empty action move.

Spaceship: Alienantion on a Budget.

If nothing else Spaceship is the best depiction of alienated teenagers in a good, long time. the plot is sparse, its characters are passive to the point of inertia and the design is outright bonkers. Everything about the setting is suggestive of events happening entirely in reality. Scenes take place on grimy council estates, dense woodland and army barracks. Yet the tone, dialogue and look feel like something from another planet. At first it feels frustrating as the film sacrifices any genuine story for constant flights of fancy but as Spaceship goes on it becomes clear what is going it. All this whimsy is in fact an ambitious attempt to articulate the disconnect between contemporary teens and an older, more grounded audience.

Our story nominally follows Lucidia (Alexa Davies) a disaffected and death obsessed ‘Cyber-Goth’ still reeling from the mysterious death of her mother. Her father Gabriel (Antti Reini) is an archaeologist, far more focused in digging through the past than observing the present. When Lucidia is abducted by a set of bright lights in the sky, Gabriel must connect with the weird world of her teenage friends in order to find her. His journey not only brings him face-to-face with the inherently alien nature of contemporary youth but also his past traumas. Traumas that Gabriel will have to come to terms with to find Lucidia.

It’s a testament to Reini’s talents that Gabriel is presented as a character utterly out-of-touch with almost everything, yet remains wholly sympathetic. The resignation with which he approaches Lucidia’s obvious depression and subsequent disappearance are palpable cries of desperation. Yet his demeanour begins to break the closer he gets to his daughter, endearing us as he reaches a state of lucidity. Not exactly subtle and certainly not hard to predict, but affecting.

The real star of this film though is the world it builds and the strange creatures that inhabit it. A world in which everyone is convinced they were once subject to a mass abduction. A world in which boy a disappeared to evolve into vampires. In which shadow creatures emerge from black holes and stalk teenagers dressed in neon and PVC. All of which sounds ridiculous on paper, and would feel so in a less committed film. Spaceship however gives its world such dreamlike atmosphere that you can’t help but become sucked in.

It’s not perfect like any means. Like any dreams much of it seems to go nowhere and many of Spaceship's idiosyncrasies feel superfluous. Scenes which lack thematic connection to Lucidia come and go without payoff. The films ambitions obviously far outstretch it's budget, trying to hold everything together with duct tape and string. However it runs at a brisk pace though and bombards you with the weirdness of its world frequently enough to never break the illusion.

Doctor Strange or How I Learned to Stop Worrying

Yeah, that joke is probably played out by now but it speaks to an inherent truth about the film itself. Doctor Strange is a flawed, flawed film. In its structure, writing, composition, even (and I cringe at saying this) in the performances of its actors. But to say that is to make the situation sound far worse than it is because Doctor Strange is the first film sin Star Wars: The Force Awakens that a film holds together in spite of its flaws. Perhaps it's a critics thing; the fact is that everything that's good about Strange is the kind of by-the-numbers, playful light show that Marvel has been excelling at for eight years now. The bad stuff is just far more interesting to delve into from a critical standpoint and if you're not interested in critique then it's easy to stop worrying and enjoy the ride. That's OK, it's a fun ride. There's just room to improve it.

A good start would have been the opening. An arbitrary action beat to pump up momentum, which it needs to do since the next 90 minutes will be relatively action-free. It feels like a cynical move on Marvel's part, assuming a goldfish-level attention span on the part of its audience. Especially egregious as the proceeding two acts are infinitely more compelling than any amount of building-shifting CGI. Like all the best Marvel films the plot is driven by character and in Cumberbatch's mangled hands Strange is a character to follow halfway across the world. Admittedly the establishing scenes do wear out their welcome. Character actor Michael Stuhlbarg is always a welcome sight but the film dedicates too much time to him as Strange's pre-crash whipping boy. A clumsy demonstration of the pride that goes before his fall.

Then there's the fall itself. It's no easy feat showing a man with so much losing everything until we have to choice but to sympathise. Ironically the result is as hollow as Strange's luxury apartment, compounded by the token presence of Rachel McAdams' in the role of Christine. Make no mistake, McAdams acquits herself well but it's painfully clear throughout that this character only exists as a sounding board for Strange's emotions and expositions.

No the film never really takes off until an hour in when Strange finally arrives at what is basically Nepalese Hogwarts, for an extended training montage. It's there that the film can really show off it's USP; a succession of visually inventive acid trips/magical mind journeys meant to communicate Strange's journey. Strange's arc harks back to Marvel Phase 1 territory; in which a talented egomaniac finds the means and drive to use their great potential for something good. In this case instead of applying his brilliant mind to saving lives as a neurosurgeon, Strange discovers he can save entire dimensions by applying himself to the mystical arts.

It's here that Cumberbatch endears himself to us. Presenting a man accustomed to being the best in his field now held back by doubt, in both his situation and himself. With each victory bringing a visually unique delight. Delights which only increase as Strange's rebuilds his self-confidence. It's not exactly Neo learning to accept the unreality of The Matrix but rather typical Marvel fun.

Eventually though the film has to build to a traditional climax involving a face-off against Strange's polar opposite. In this case Mads Mikkelsen as the guylinered Kaecilius whoese motivations are typically all-encompassing and vague for a Marvel villain. A rogue pupil of Tilda Swinton's Ancient One, using the mystical arts to summon a malevolent god to bring the universe to a plain of infinite life...and you know what it doesn't matter. By now everyone knows Marvel's terrible track record of villains. Not to mention the fact that their films are more about heroism being an outlet for flawed men (for it is always men) to resolve their personal baggage.

Strange makes that thing clear more than anything as it proceeds to run out the clock with a series of impressive set pieces and effects sequences. Even the heavily promoted shots of New York City folding in on itself ultimately does nothing to move the plot along.

And then there's the ending, a clever piece of abstract thinking in which Strange traps the Dark god Dormammu in an infinte loop of time. Only releasing him if he leaves Earth and takes Kaecilius with him. It's a clever solution but dogged by a hurried execution. There's an opportunity for an entire Groundhog Day of scenes in which Domammu tries to torture Strange into releasing him, then maybe ignoring him, toying with him maybe even reasoning with him. Imagine Strange whining about his relationship troubles to a god who exists beyond space and time. Imagine Dormammu relenting, abandoning his conquest of Earth just to be rid of Cumberbatch. Instead Dormammu just tortures Strange for a few minutes before getting bored. Undermining any power he may have possessed as a villain.

It's an ending indicative of the quality of Doctor Strange; a film full of good ideas that could have been so much better. Cumberbatch cuts himself a distinctive character in a universe already brimming with compelling leads. And despite their lack of impact the various visual effects feel original, fun and inventive. The pieces are all great, just muddled in the way they're put together.

The Witch: A New England Haunting

The Witch, or The VVitch as it appears on the opening credits, is an impeccably crafted piece of work that falls just short of being and outright hit in its own regard. A unique and terrifying horror film that mixes puritanical colony drama with supernatural scares but is sadly somewhat poorly paced and, as a result suffers for it as a whole.

With painstaking historical detail the film presents a fanatically puritan family leaving their New England colony believing the local government to be religiously impure. Out in the forest they hope to live closer to God, foraging and growing their own food. Quickly thought things go devastatingly wrong when the family's newborn is straight up abducted and killed by a witch. There's no playing around here, no overstretched ambiguity, the family is plagued immediately by a wrinkled hook-nosed crone who snatches babies.

Admittedly the actual encounters with the witch itself are nicely spaced apart in favour of the gradual disintegration of the family. It's kind of amazing how the film can more or less start with them encountering devastation and go downhill from there. A major part is the interplay between the family, reeling from a tragedy while still struggling to eke out a living in a seemingly barren land. You can read all manner of allegory on the failings of fundamentalist religion that inform the dynamics. From the virtual absence of compassion from the mother to the utter incompetence of the father as a provider.

It's an ensemble work but Anya Taylor-Joy occupies the nominal lead role as Thomasin, the eldest daughter on the cusp of womanhood (albeit womanhood in the 1630s). She plays the whole thing with something I can only describe as determined uncertainty. Thomas has no idea what's going on as much as the rest of them but she refuses to be phased by the tragedy that befalls her. Only reaching breaking point at the end of the film where everything goes full-on bonkers. There's the sense that she is the grounded centre keeping the family together and when that fails she succumbs to temptation.

However the actual 'scary sequences', the part everyone's here to see prove something of a letdown. Little in the build-up of tension despite the looming dark forest and unnerving score. At the moment of release the film favours surreal imagery over anything that would be considered chilling. On the whole a well-realised concept somewhat lacking in execution.

Ghostbusters 2016 Review

A lot of the time it kind of sucks to be at the threshold of a late Gen-X/Early Millenial. Getting all the slack stick associated with Generation X but never really growing up with the nostalgic properties that defines so much of their culture. Sometimes though it's a boon. By coming relatively late to things like Ghostbusters or Transformers (still never seen the 1986 film) I was able to view them as works of art and not the entirety of my childhood. So just as I was able to view Transformers as a bad film, rather than some great desecration, I was able to come to 2016's reboot of Ghostbusters with an open mind. Hell, despite that fact that I was rooting for this all-female line up I was even able to recognise that it has major flaws in the writing and editing that drag it just short of being great.

So yes, after all the hype it turns out that Ghostbusters 2016 is...fine. Not a disaster but also not making anyone's top ten at the end of the year. A broad, cartoonish, character-based action comedy saved from the doldrums of mere adequacy by the strong chemistry between its cast and an outright star-making turn from SNL comedian Kate McKinnon.

To lead such a merely adequate film we have Kristen Wiig-american comedy's poster child for adequacy-once again opposite Bridesmaids co-star Melissa McCarthy-American Comedy's poster child for awesome! Both play accomplished scientists who once closely collaborated on a book about the paranormal but Wiig's character Abbey now wants nothing to do with. However the book leads McCarthy's Erin Gilbert (her first real 'straight' role) and engineer Jillian Holtzmann (McKinnon) to a series of powerful apparitions being empowered by a mysterious figure. When one of these apparitions draws the attention of historian Patty Tolan (Leslie Jones) she offers to join the group as a guide, completing the Ghostbusters team.

From the outset the film is peppered with sharp comic lines that, thanks to a cast of comedy alumni, always hit their mark. What jokes don't work are usually the ones built around garish CGI ghosts that never manage to tow the original's line of equal parts Lovecraftian horror and Three Stooges antics. With the exception of a few well-executed scares the film never generates a strong buildup of tension to be undercut with a suitable punchline. Indeed halfway through the film begins to even suffer the original's problem of being overly reliant of slapstick set pieces.

What jokes do work are those built around the characters, their relationship to one another and how they view the world. From Abbey's failed attempts to maintain composure in the face of the ridiculous to Patty's world-weary attitude to the supernatural. Erin and Abbey's relationship is the connective glue to it all built on a sincere bedrock of friendship with just enough difference in personas to generate conflict. But as you've probably heard the real MVP is Holtzmann, a melting pot of weirdness and tech-fetishes that steals every scene she's in. McKinnon's delivery is always out of left field and perfectly timed. They're the kind of jokes that work on multiple-levels as anyone who's ever been 'the weird one' in a group of friends will perfectly understand.

Finally kudos needs to go to Chris Helmswoth who's likely been nursing a desire to branch out into comedy. His useless secretary is a beautiful hodgepodge of dumb blonde cliches punching upward at handsome male entitlement. That the writers just never run out of ways for him to be inept, idiotic or unjustifiably smug is an accomplishment in itself. Though the jokes made about him do tend to wear thin towards the third act.

Ah yes, the third act that easily forms the films biggest problem. To be fair there are editing problems across the board including the hastily added scene of the group snarkily reading hateful internet comments (subtle Feig, real subtle). But it's clear that some scenes designed to split the group have been removed without much afterthought. New York being transformed into different periods of time feels like something that should have been more fleshed out in the whole film and would have better demonstrated Patty's intellectual prowess. Whatever was intended though feels mostly shelved with the Avengers-style big climax mostly covered by green screen effects instead.

So we find 2016's Ghostbusters a touch uneven but satisfying nonetheless. Thankfully what it gets wrong feel like tertiary elements that just knock it down to three-star territory. Whereas what it gets right i.e. the tone and chemistry between the four leads are what elevate away from being a complete disaster.

When Marnie Was There

I've described Studio Ghibli as being hit-and-miss at times with their output and no where is this more evident when they try their hands at teenage or young adult drama. Whisper of the Heart was a sweet and understated character piece while Ocean Waves is an absolute slog. It is a relief then to report that When Marnie was There is a wonderful, if small way for the studio to depart from feature film production. As with Whisper it finds its feet by focusing on one incredibly sympathetic character and taking her through a fanciful, emotional journey that leaves her the stronger for it.

When we first meet Anna she is isolated and vulnerable. Suffering an asthma attack during an art session where its made visibly clear that her problems are for more psychological than physical. Even if her quiet apology of 'I cost you more money' doesn't give her emotional state away the animation on her melancholy expression does. Her awkward running from fellow teenagers, her slouched or outright curled posture all gives the impression of a person riddled with anxiety.

So it seems only natural that Anna becomes attached to an ethereal and mysterious young girl who is also isolated, albeit in a ghostly marsh-house across the lake,  There's very little in the bond between Marnie and Anna, merely the mutual feeling of being unable to connect with the outside world. In fact Marnie becomes so quickly attached that it seems almost sinister but soon becomes clear that there is something much larger bonding the two.

The ups and downs of Marnie and Anna's friendship takes the form of a series of misadventures from crashing her parents elegant parties to exploring a haunted silo. The latter of these becomes so intense, so dramatic, owing to a sudden storm that all of Anna emotional conflict is painted on the waves. This is Ghibli's animation team operating at their peak with the violent movement of clouds, lightning and rain seamlessly with a distinctive physicality. Like all the best animations the atmosphere is something you could almost feel.

But it isn't just the charming animation that draws audiences to Studio Ghibli. Marnie guides Anna through her emotional conflict in a way that is typically fanciful and endearing, acting as an outlet for all the emotions that she can't express to her well-meaning relatives. Whether knowingly or not she provides Anna with scenarios that test her resolve, awkward social situations, confrontations and ultimately Anna's fear of abandonment. In doing so Anna becomes better equipped for the challenges that keep her from living and she emerges the richer for it.

It all builds to one major twist that provides a deep emotional gut-punch. In all its years Ghibli has never lost the ability to pluck at the heartstrings and in doing so they allow a story of friendship overcoming fears to end full circle.