THE WIND RISES 風立ちぬ - (10)

I have been reluctant to review this film.  It was just so itself. After all, pieces of a butterfly do not a butterfly make.   Sometimes examining parts can destroy the whole.

I continued to justify this view with examples from other art.  Does knowing Samuel Barber's birth date make "Adiago for Strings" sound better?   Does knowledge of the Golden Ratio make the Mona Lisa look better?

"No, if you draw boxes around my nose I just look silly" - Mona Lisa

And, does a fantastic piece of chocolate cake taste any differently if you call it "Double Chocolate Cake with Black Velvet Frosting from Fair Trade Cocoa"?

Um, actually... yes, it is better with the name.

As usual, cake was my downfall.

I have realized that giving long pretentious names to food is kind of important.  It is hard to go through life with an open heart and fresh eyes.  Sometimes telling someone that their food was made with pink Himalayan salt carved from a mountain and ground by hand gives context. It's a signal to put down the cell phone and pay attention.  This is not food you eat while watching television.   This is not food you eat on the morning commute.   This is something you take time for, something you experience.  And, sometimes the best way to cut through distractions is to find the part of a person meant to experience magical things.  Sometimes, one must tell a story.



I have a story for you. Listen:

Hayao Miyazaki was a man who tells stories.  He told stories about witches' brooms and flying machines, princesses and dragons, great events and rainy childhood afternoons. He told stories about true things, like rage and greed and hope, and stories about untrue things, like giagantic snails moving across grassy fields like ships sailing out to sea.  

Hayao Miyazaki, who told many stories over many years, one day decided he would tell only one last story.  He thought about which story to tell.  He said to his friend, "I think, for my last story, I will tell a story that everyone likes.  That will make people happy."  But, his friend said no.  "Hayao-san, tell the story you like.  Then you will be happy."

For three years Hayao Miyazaki and his friends worked to tell a story.  It was about flying machines, about war and fear, about love and death and Japan.  But, it was also a story about what it means to build dreams and then let them fly away.

Hayao Miyazaki finished the story he loved and let it fly out to the world.  And, because this is a story about a story, you will not be surprised to hear that other people loved it too.