(Which makes sense, because preschoolers are terrible at taking direction.) But even though animation comes with limitless possibilities, it has rarely filled in the gap. Only a handful of live-action films have dealt with the raw emotions of preschoolers. What she can do is bolt up our stairs in search of her own “secret stairs,” scribble an orange line on a piece of paper and call it the “Catbus,” and comb through tall grass to find acorns for the tiny totoros who apparently lurk in our backyard. The film, made in 1988 and set in post-war Japan, clicks for my daughter in the year 2020, even if she can’t articulate the connection. In thousands of scanned pencil sketches and ink blots, Miyazaki rendered an actual little kid, imperfect and thriving.
#My neighbor totoro book full#
Mei feels a thousand thoughts rush through her mind as she dips a hand into a puddle full of tadpoles. For my 2-year-old, who I’ve now seen the film with at least 50 times by her demand, the sequence is a moment of behavioral reassurance. The encounter puts smiles on their faces and charcoal dust on their hands.Īs an adult, it’s a transportive.
They shriek with glee when they discover “secret stairs,” where a family of soot spirits scurry about. In the film’s opening minutes, writer-director Hayao Miyazaki introduces two young girls, 11-year-old Satsuki and 4-year-old Mei, as they race around and wiggle through the hidden spaces of their new country home.
The thrill of My Neighbor Totoro begins long before the film’s iconic giant bear-owl spirit takes to the skies on a spinning top.