Film Review: The Secret World of Arrietty / Kari-gurashi no Arietti (2010)

*All reviews contain spoilers*

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Japanese Cast –

Tatsuya Fujiwara – Spiller

Ryūnosuke Kamiki – Shō

Kirin Kiki – Haru

Tomokazu Miura – Pod

Shinobu Otake – Homily

Mirai Shida – Arrietty

Keiko Takashita – Sadako Maki

Plus additional voices (I’m guessing they’re for the pest controllers and sound effects; there’s not really anybody else in the film!)

English Cast for British dub, 2011 –

Luke Allen-Gale – Spiller

Olivia Colman – Homily

Tom Holland – Shō

Phyllida Law – Sadako Maki

Geraldine McEwan – Haru

Saoirse Ronan – Arrietty

Mark Strong – Pod

English Cast for American dub, 2012 –

Moisés Arias – Spiller

Will Arnett – Pod

Carol Burnett – Hara (Haru)

David Henrie – Shawn (Shō)

Bridgit Mendler – Arrietty

Amy Poehler – Homily

Gracie Poletti – Aunt Jessica (Sadako Maki)

Sources of Inspiration – The Borrowers, an English novel by Mary Norton, 1952

Release Dates –

July 10^th, 2010 in Japan (premiere and general release)

July 29^th, 2011 in the UK (wide release of the British dub)

February 17^th, 2012 in the USA (wide release of the American dub)

Run-time – 95 minutes

Directors – Hiromasa Yonebayashi

Composers – Cécile Corbel

Worldwide Gross – $146 million

Accolades – 12 wins and 6 nominations

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2010 in History

The Burj Khalifa becomes the world’s tallest man-made structure when it opens in Dubai, UAE

The Togo national football team are attacked in the Cabinda exclave of Angola by the FLEC, killing three

The capital city of the island nation of Haiti, Port-au-Prince, is devastated by a massive earthquake, resulting in widespread displacement and the deaths of over 316,000 (recovery efforts are still ongoing)

The five-year Chadian Civil War officially comes to an end

Another massive earthquake strikes Chile less than a month after Haiti, killing around 525

The Kasubi Tombs, a Ugandan UNESCO World Heritage site, are almost totally destroyed in a fire

A series of volcanic eruptions from Iceland’s Mount Eyjafjallajökull produce ash plumes which disrupt air traffic across Europe

BP’s Deepwater Horizon drilling platform explodes and sinks in the Gulf of Mexico, killing 11 people and devastating the environment for miles around

The beginnings of the Greek government-debt crisis are observed when the eurozone and the IMF impose strict austerity measures on the country

94 people are killed in the Lahore massacre in Pakistan after two Ahmadiyya mosques are attacked by Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan during Friday prayers

Ethnic Kyrgyz and Uzbeks clash in southern Kyrgyzstan, resulting in hundreds of deaths

Julia Gillard becomes Australia’s first female Prime Minister

WikiLeaks reveals the “Afghan War Diary” to the public, a collection of over 90,000 reports about US involvement in the nation since 2004

The Swine Flu epidemic is declared officially over by the WHO

A third massive earthquake rocks Christchurch in New Zealand, prompting doomsday prophecies worldwide

The Netherlands Antilles are dissolved, although they remain under Dutch control

33 men are rescued during the Copiapó mining accident in Chile, after having endured 69 days trapped underground

The International Space Station sets a new record for continuous human occupation in space, having been inhabited since 2000

Burmese opposition politician Aung San Suu Kyi is finally released from the house arrest she had been under since 1989

Birth of Cristiano Ronaldo, Jr.

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Hello everyone, and welcome to another review! We’ve been digging into the works of one of Studio Ghibli’s most renowned directors for the past couple of reviews, but now, before we leave the world of anime for western films again, I’d like to focus for a moment on one of the studio’s less well-known creators. Only about a quarter of Ghibli’s output has been created by someone other than Hayao Miyazaki or Isao Takahata, but among this handful of films are some real gems that are equally deserving of attention. So, this week, let’s take a look at The Secret World of Arrietty.

Based on a classic children’s novel by Mary Norton, the story was one that Takahata and Miyazaki had long been interested in adapting, ever since the earliest days of the studio. Miyazaki explained its appeal, saying, “There were many adaptations of famous stories, but {distributors} rejected works that were totally original. They thought there’d be no audience and that animation was for children. That’s why the story had to be familiar to parents, so the parents would give permission for their children to see the films”. It’s hard to believe that even Ghibli had to battle that kind of stigma against animation, but it’s easy to see the appeal of The Borrowers; such a fantastical tale really lent itself to the medium.

By the early twenty-first century, however, Miyazaki had quite a lot on his plate. With Ghibli’s growing prominence in the animation community, he was constantly trying to “retire” while simultaneously being tempted into making film after film. Having wanted to produce the Borrowers project for about forty years by then, he ultimately decided to put it in the hands of a new director, whose work he would oversee as one of the executive producers (studio stalwart Toshio Suzuki also served as a producer).

Miyazaki chose young animator Hiromasa Yonebayashi for the project, while the latter was busy overseeing Ghibli’s entrance exams for prospective new animators. Surprisingly, Yonebayashi initially declined, feeling he was not up to the task, but Miyazaki and Suzuki kept badgering him to read the book until he finally relented. The story appealed to him, particularly the potential visual opportunities it offered due to its unique contrast of scales and perspectives, so he agreed to sign on. Only in his mid-thirties at the time, he was Ghibli’s youngest ever director, and his film would be only the fourth not to be directed by either Miyazaki or Takahata.

Yonebayashi had started out as an inbetweener on Princess Mononoke (1997) and worked his way up from there into various animation positions, but he was a reluctant director to start with. Understandably, his first instinct was to defer to the wisdom of Miyazaki, consulting him on anything and everything in the early stages of production (you really notice this when reading the art book, with a lot of Yonebayashi’s early ideas for the film being shot down). Still, by the time he came to doing the storyboards, Yonebayashi realised “he was on a journey he should face alone” and Miyazaki congratulated him for it – he continued to supervise production, but Yonebayashi was able to make more decisions for himself from then on. The experience seems to have given Yonebayashi new confidence in himself, as he went on to direct two more features (one of which was for the newly founded Studio Ponoc).

After Yonebayashi’s appointment as director in November 2008, production began with a small core staff following the completion of Ponyo. The script was written between December and January, with key animation beginning in May 2009. Ghibli then formally announced the film that December and, by the following May, the animation, image processing and voicework were being completed, culminating in the first test screening in June.

Upon release, Arrietty was quite a success, winning the hearts of audiences across Japan and becoming one of that year’s top films in the country. It was quickly prepared for a western release with not one, but two distinct English dubs, released in 2011 and 2012 respectively (the American dub tweaked several names, added dialogue and altered the score, while the British dub shortened the title to just Arrietty). Although I didn’t see this in theatres, I was able to watch it with some friends just a couple of years later and instantly fell in love with it. Long-time readers may remember that I included this in my top five Ghibli films and, while I hadn’t seen all of Ghibli’s works at that point and have since discovered some gorgeous Takahata and Kondo pieces, I still stand by its inclusion. Arrietty may not be a favourite for many fans, but it certainly is one of mine!

Characters and Vocal Performances

Arrietty is a simple story at heart – with a cast of only seven significant characters, this should be a much shorter review than usual. Our protagonist here is the nearly-14-year-old daughter of the Clock family, Arrietty. She and her family are what’s known as “borrowers”, a race of miniature people who live at the margins of the human world, taking what they need to survive from their large neighbours and doing their best to remain undetected. The film explores Arrietty’s burgeoning curiosity about the humans and the challenges they pose for the borrowers, with a cross-species friendship changing her family’s life forever.

We join Arrietty at an important moment in her life, as she is about to embark on her first borrowing with her father in a kind of coming-of-age rite of passage. Keen to prove herself, she has obviously been looking forward to this day for a long time and is brimming with excitement – but there’s a small problem. Ordinarily, the human house they inhabit is home only to one old lady and her housekeeper, but as it happens, the lady’s young nephew has come to stay for some peace and quiet before an operation. The presence of a curious child – even a sickly one – puts Arrietty’s parents on edge, but she remains determined to carry out her first borrowing as planned, so her father agrees to take her.

These early scenes establish a lot about Arrietty’s personality; she’s kind, thoughtful and generous, going to a lot of trouble to procure some bay leaves for her mother’s birthday, but she also has the recklessness that comes with inexperience, being spotted by the boy within moments of his arrival (unbeknown to her). As a young teenager, she’s filled with restless energy and a strong desire for independence, but she is not yet careful enough to navigate the world the way her father, Pod, does.

That said, Arrietty does respect her father and listens to his advice, trusting his wisdom and experience. It’s a refreshing change, given how many rebellious, stubborn teenage heroines we’ve already seen in animation; in that sense, she feels more reminiscent of the likes of Mulan or Crysta than Jasmine or Merida. During her first borrowing, she watches everything her father does and is in awe of his skills, always following his instructions – although we do see her chafing at the restrictions imposed upon her at times, such as when he reminds her not to go looking for trouble, or when he explains that they can’t use the dollhouse. Still, in the end, I can’t help feeling like the big slip-up is more down to Pod than Arrietty – as he puts it, “I should have been a bit more careful”. Yeah, no kidding – how he thought borrowing a tissue from the very bedside of the boy they’re hoping to avoid was worth the risk is beyond me. Needless to say, Shō is awake and catches sight of Arrietty in a heart-stopping moment. He’s clearly no threat, but the borrowers can’t take that chance; being seen by a human is a grave turn of fate for them and the incident really puts a damper on Arrietty’s first borrowing.

Pod gently advises Arrietty not to disclose the details of the evening to her mother, who is the least adventurous of the three and would no doubt be terrified at the prospect of discovery. At first, it seems like this will be the end of the matter – but Shō is too bored and lonesome to leave it there. In a gesture of invitation, he leaves the sugar cube that Arrietty dropped the previous night near her home, sparking the same curiosity in her that he feels himself. The lad only wants to make friends, but the move puts Pod on his guard; it’s simply too dangerous to fraternise with humans. Perhaps Shō means them no harm, but if the secret gets out, there will be others less inclined to benevolence.

Arrietty feels guilty at the thought of causing her family any trouble, so she takes it upon herself to try and nip things in the bud before they get out of hand. With her parents occupied, she sneaks out to make an excursion up to Shō’s room, where she returns the remains of the sugar and firmly requests that he leave them alone. However, the two of them get talking in spite of her caution – both are young, isolated and longing for a friend, so being of a similar age, they naturally find themselves drawn to one another. Suddenly, their talk is cut short by a marauding crow, who makes a dive for Arrietty (another reminder of how hard life is for the borrowers). When Shō not only rescues her from it, but also hides her from housekeeper Haru, she is astonished; it challenges her perception of humans as being selfish or untrustworthy and puts her at odds with her father, who has never had such a positive experience with them. Unfortunately, Pod catches her returning from the visit to Shō and realises what she’s done – their contact prompts him to decide to move the family to a safer location, deepening Arrietty’s guilt.

Pod’s search for a new home produces an unexpected surprise, as he finds himself rescued one night after an injury by Spiller, a fellow borrower whose existence they had been completely unaware of. Given their small size, the Clocks have had no way of keeping in contact with any other borrowers, so Arrietty and her family are delighted to find out that they’re not the only ones in the area. It is a moment of hope which brightens Arrietty tremendously and she takes a shine to Spiller, who seems to return her interest despite his shyness.

There are still further surprises in store for the Clocks before they can carry out their move. Shō, having been told that his grandfather built the ornate dollhouse in his room for the borrowers many years ago, decides to do them a favour and gift them the kitchen from it. He means well, bless him, but Arrietty’s mother, Homily, is absolutely terrified as she watches him tearing out the old kitchen and plonking the new one down (although she is delighted with it once the shock wears off). This is too much for Pod, so he hastens the preparations to move and sets out to check the route with Spiller one last time before they go. Arrietty then takes the opportunity to sneak out again to confront Shō, leading us into the film’s climax.

I have to say, I love the way this scene was handled. Arrietty is rightly angry with Shō for disrupting her family’s life and forcing them out of their home, even if it was unintentional. As the conversation turns to other borrowers (and notably after Arrietty mentions Spiller), Shō rather tactlessly begins to speculate on whether borrowers might be endangered, prompting a spirited outburst from Arrietty. She is proud and determined to fight for the future of her people, assuring him in no uncertain terms that the borrowers are not going to just sit back and be wiped out – small as she is, her delivery is so forceful that somehow, you know she’s right. When Shō suggests that it is down to “fate”, Arrietty also points out that it’s humans who endanger species in the first place, refusing to allow him to shift the blame onto some cosmic force.

Thoroughly chastened, Shō duly apologises and reveals his heart condition to Arrietty, who is taken aback to hear that the poor kid’s days may be numbered. She suddenly realises that, in a way, he understands the sense of fragility she feels as a borrower, because his life is similarly fragile; this explains why he has been so keen to try and help them, misguided though his efforts may have been.

Once again, however, their talk is interrupted, this time by a crisis: Arrietty hears her mother’s cry of alarm and races back to the house, only to find it deserted. With Homily gone and her father still out, Arrietty has nowhere else to turn, so she heads back to Shō’s room to ask for his help finding Homily. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability for this strong, tomboyish character as she sobs in fear, showing us just how much pressure she’s been under during all this turmoil. Her family are all she has, and they mean the world to her. Luckily, she’s made a loyal friend in Shō, who immediately agrees to help her search.

The plucky pair discover that Haru has locked Shō’s door, but that doesn’t stop them. They decide to shimmy out onto the roof to see if they can get into the room next door, but when they find that window locked too, Arrietty gets another great character moment where she shows off her resourcefulness. Employing skills she’s learned from her father, she quickly manages to find a way inside and unlocks the window for Shō, with the two of them continuing to work together until they track down Homily. After Shō realises that Haru is the culprit, they head to her domain – the kitchen. Soon, Haru herself arrives and gives herself away with a hilariously pantomimed glance at the pantry, so Shō distracts her and points Arrietty in the right direction.

With another display of cunning and athleticism, Arrietty gains access to the pantry and scales the shelves to find her mother, then uses her sword-like pin to cut Homily free of the jar she’s been trapped in (a nice call-back to the eve of Arrietty’s first borrowing). Shō joins her just in time to witness her heartfelt reunion with Homily and she shares a grateful smile with him, before she and her mother clamber down out of sight.

All may have turned out well in the end, but the move must still go ahead. Late that night, Arrietty and her parents begin the long trek up the garden to the river where they’re meeting Spiller, carefully avoiding the gleaming eyes of nocturnal predators. Arrietty continues to brood on all the trouble she’s caused, despite her parents’ reassurance that it’s “in the past”; it’s notable that she takes responsibility for her actions even at just fourteen, instead of having the narrative reward her for being rebellious. Her actions may have been well-intentioned, but they have cost her family the nicest home they’ve ever had and there’s nothing she can do to fix it.

Luckily, Arrietty does at least get some closure before they go. Unable to sleep, Shō heads out into the garden and finds Niya, the cat, who leads him up the garden to see Arrietty one last time. The two of them share a fond farewell, with Arrietty thanking him again for his help and Shō explaining that her passion for life has given him new courage to fight for his own. It’s rather sad to think that they’ll probably never see each other again, but Arrietty gives him her clothespin hairclip to remember her by and accepts his offer of another sugar cube.

With her time at the Maki home behind her and a new horizon ahead, the film ends Arrietty’s story on a more optimistic note, hinting at a budding friendship (or perhaps something more) between her and Spiller. Despite the upheaval, the last glimpse we get of the Clocks sees them “making do”, just as Arrietty said they would, giving us the sense that they will indeed be alright. Life finds a way.

Arrietty’s story may not be as layered or reflective as Taeko’s or Kaguya’s, but it’s still an enjoyable snapshot of the difficulties of growing up. Poised on the brink of a new chapter in her life, Arrietty is restless, adventurous, naïve and courageous – she may not be as careful as her parents and sometimes makes well-intentioned mistakes, but she is also open to new ways of thinking that could allow for new opportunities down the line. Arrietty represents the future, a new generation filled with optimism and determination, with her bold attitude making her an easy character to like and root for. Her relationship with Shō is sweet and believable, highlighting the ways in which our similarities can unite us despite our differences, and showing us the value of having a positive outlook when Arrietty restores Shō’s zest for life. She’s only one in a long line of excellent heroines from Ghibli, but I feel like she doesn’t get the attention she deserves.

12-year-old Shō is the one whose presence causes so much disruption for the Clock family, although he certainly doesn’t intend it. Shō serves as a kind of narrator, with the film being framed through his perspective (at least in the British dub) via a line in the opening where he reflects on the events of that summer. He and his Aunt Sadako are the first characters we meet, as we see her driving him to her house for some rest before his operation.

Poor Shō has a rather tragic backstory, as it’s gradually revealed that he’s been ill and frail all his life, which has prevented him from doing much with other children and has left him feeling lonely and frustrated. As if that’s not bad enough, his parents have also divorced and seem preoccupied with their careers, something his aunt notes with disapproval. I agree with her; what kind of mother palms off her terminally ill child on a relative before a major operation? Whatever her “terribly important” work is, it had better be worth the risk of missing what could be her only son’s final days.

Much like Arrietty, Shō is on the brink of adolescence and yearns for adventure but is kept sedentary indoors by his health, rather than because of any dangers in his environment. He appears to have grown resigned to this way of life and displays a remarkably even disposition for such a young lad, always calm and collected with few emotional outbursts. Still, the curiosity of his fading childhood has not been completely extinguished, so when he arrives at his aunt’s house, the fleeting glimpse he gets of a tiny girl amidst the bushes in the garden are enough to set his imagination racing.

Later that night, his suspicions are confirmed when he catches Arrietty in the middle of her first borrowing. Pod was presumably counting on Shō to be asleep, but the kid is in a strange house with little to tire him out and is thus wide awake when they arrive. Noticing that Arrietty drops a sugar cube on her way out, Shō is kind enough to attempt to return it, not realising the problems his mere presence is causing her family.

The next time he hears from Arrietty, his only thought is to try and befriend her, desperate as he is for some kind of social interaction with a fellow kid. He finds her existence fascinating, but for Arrietty, Shō’s existence poses a threat to her family’s way of life, so she is forced to try and warn him off. Disappointed but undeterred, Shō begs for permission to at least have one good look at her, but the incident with the crow winds up giving him more than he bargained for when he has to rescue her from it. Arrietty slips away before he can see her properly, but contact has been established – it will not be the last time he sees the young borrower.

Over dinner one night, Shō’s aunt informs him about the dollhouse in his bedroom, explaining that her father had it made especially for the borrowers when she was a child, as he believed in them and wanted to encourage them to stay. Shō is stunned to hear that he is not the first person to become aware of their existence, though he hides it well. Thus, he comes up with the kind but ill-advised plan to “install” the dollhouse kitchen in the borrower’s home (if you’re wondering how he knew where to find it, my guess is he saw Arrietty run in the direction of the grate on the day he arrived, then worked out what part of the house was nearest to the grate and wound up checking the floor of the closet).

His gift is well-meant, but the disruption Shō causes only hastens the departure of the Clock family, something he is saddened and guilty to hear when Arrietty confronts him about it later. Then, with all the tactless curiosity of a child, Shō begins wondering aloud about the borrowers’ population and accidentally offends Arrietty with the notion that her kind may be dying out. She takes particular umbrage with his suggestion that fate is to blame, reminding him that it is the changes made by humans that force the borrowers to have to leave. Knowing that this is exactly what he has done, Shō is humbled and embarrassed, but makes up for it by confiding in Arrietty the seriousness of his condition. It’s honestly very saddening to see this 12-year-old speaking of death with such fatalistic acceptance, having lived in its shadow for all of his short life, and his plight earns Arrietty’s sympathy.

However, Shō’s next encounter with Arrietty is the most important of all, for she comes to request his help in finding her kidnapped mother. Shō agrees without hesitating, even going so far as to climb out onto the roof in spite of his condition to escape his locked room. He marvels at Arrietty’s ingenuity and the two of them make quite a team, successfully getting down to the kitchen, where they work together to distract the nefarious Haru so that Arrietty can get into the pantry. Once the housekeeper is out of the way, Shō is pleased to see Arrietty reunited with her mother, but the moment is bittersweet, for he clearly believes he’ll never see her again. That shot of him standing, all alone in the pantry, his eyes on the spot where Arrietty vanished, is a surprisingly powerful one.

The lonely soul is awakened that night, perhaps by instinct, and wanders out into the garden. With the help of his aunt’s cat, he races to the end of the garden – despite the strain this puts on his heart – and manages to catch Arrietty just before she leaves forever. I’m glad they got to have that moment of closure, as each of them has had an indelible effect on the other’s life. Arrietty may be small, but her courage completely changes Shō’s outlook; once resigned to an early grave, he is now brimming with hope and fresh spirit, facing his operation as a challenge that he is optimistic he will overcome. No longer shall he go gentle into that good night. Shō himself has also changed Arrietty, proving to her with his kindness that not all humans are bad, perhaps even opening the door to further beneficial interactions with them down the line.

Shō’s narration implies that he did survive his operation, but I only hope his life improved in the years that followed. One would hope that his negligent mother finally came back to spend some time with him, but who knows. At least the borrowers have an ally in him; if he ever got his own place, they’d be more than welcome there, and that’s an encouraging thought. Arrietty and Shō remind us not to despair in a difficult world, for new generations may be able to look past old prejudices and find ways of working together to overcome problems that once seemed insurmountable.

Arrietty’s father, Pod Clock, is a man of few words. Quiet and occasionally stern, he is nevertheless a warm presence in the film and his daughter is clearly very close with him. We first meet Pod on the night of Arrietty’s first borrowing, where he expresses cautious concern over Shō’s arrival. As a borrower, he has long grown used to weighing up the odds and thinking through every situation before making a move, so he is tactical but wise, deciding what risks to take based on his long years of experience.

Shō’s frail condition convinces Pod that it will be safe to go ahead with Arrietty’s borrowing, but he makes a rare error of judgement by assuming Shō will behave according to the rules he knows. An ill borrower wouldn’t dream of leaving the safety of the home, with the outside world posing such a threat even to healthy ones, but Shō is not a borrower. He is a bored and stifled human child staying in an unfamiliar house, so he is fully alert and eager to explore – the worst traits in a human, as far as Pod’s concerned. Curiosity may not kill the cat, but it could certainly kill a borrower.

It is through Pod that we learn a little more about the local borrowers’ history. When Arrietty hesitantly questions his cautiousness, he explains that long before she was born, the Maki home housed two other families of borrowers. One of the families mysteriously disappeared, with the other leaving soon after – the fate of the missing family is never explained, but the presence of rats, the aunt’s cat and dangerous wildlife in the garden are more than enough to fill the mind with grim possibilities. (We can be sure, at least, that Haru was not responsible, as Homily is the first borrower she ever sees). Later, after Arrietty’s talk with Shō puts the vastly different scale of her people into perspective, she comes to understand her father’s attitude – as he puts it, “No matter what happens, this family must survive”.

This concern for maintaining the borrowers’ legacy also explains Pod’s protectiveness of his family, which is his defining trait throughout the story. Everything he does, he does for their benefit; I love his open affection for his wife and daughter, subtle though it is. He and Homily are very different people, but they compliment each other well and he cares about her comfort, doing his best to “borrow” things that will make her happy (Arrietty also does this). It seems that borrowing has, in fact, been chiefly his responsibility up until Arrietty came of age, as Homily is more of a homebody. You wonder what it’s been like for him over the past few years, venturing out alone into a world where he’s little more than a tasty morsel for passing vermin… the guy must have nerves of steel.

This vulnerability is reinforced later when a scouting expedition for a new home goes awry. The film doesn’t linger on the seriousness of the event for too long, but it’s important to register that Pod nearly died – having injured himself abroad with no way to get himself back to the house, it is thanks only to Spiller that he was ever seen again. With Pod, Yonebayashi almost seems to have been gently deconstructing the traditional masculinity of the father figure in Japan, by placing the “head of the household” into an environment in which he is utterly defenceless and at the mercy of much more powerful forces. Not that this prevents Pod from valiantly working to keep his family safe, no matter the odds. He is also gracious and welcoming to Spiller, thanking him warmly for saving his life and smiling peacefully as his wife and daughter fuss over the strange guest.

Pod is never idle, even when he’s bedridden by his injury, and almost every scene sees him busily working to rig up some new contraption or creating something to ease his family’s burdens. The life of a borrower clearly necessitates creativity and Pod has it in spades – much of the handiwork that allows his kind to traverse the Maki house was presumably down to him. Pod is his daughter’s role model and it’s touching to see the way she picks up his skills and uses them herself, albeit with her own unique twists.

When his family is threatened, Pod doesn’t hesitate to take action, although he does examine every angle first; moving is even more of a major change for the borrowers than it is for humans, so he doesn’t commit to it until he’s sure they have no other choice. Upon realising Homily is in danger, even his bad ankle can’t keep him down, and my favourite moment of his is when we see him hobbling to her rescue on a screwdriver, so frantic to get to her that he breaks down the kitchen door. While the gift of the kitchen effectively shows Pod that Shō means them no harm, he still sees what Arrietty does not; even the well-intentioned humans can’t resist meddling in their lives and, should they stay, their whole way of life would be put at risk. You could make the argument that the borrowers could find a way to work with the people around them, but with humans like Haru present, that is simply too big of a risk for Pod to take.

Ultimately, Pod’s decision to leave was probably for the best. He disappears for much of the third act after leaving to scout the escape route with Spiller, but at least he misses the drama of Homily’s kidnap and Arrietty’s rescue. (I bet she didn’t tell him about that). While he is sometimes frustrated with his headstrong daughter’s recklessness, he is patient and forgiving, understanding where she’s coming from and explaining his reasoning to her calmly like an equal. He’s an undeniably good parent who shares a strong, trusting relationship with his daughter, making him an excellent role model for any young boys watching.

Arrietty’s mother, Homily, is more fretful and anxious than her husband, but she too is a loving parent to her daughter and one of my favourite characters. Emotionally, she is Pod’s total opposite, prone to bursts of melodrama and bouts of anxiety, but that’s certainly understandable for a borrower. Knowing the risks her kind face in the outside world, Homily is uneasy at the prospect of Arrietty’s first borrowing, a feeling only exacerbated by the news that a strange new boy has arrived in the house that same day. Still, with Pod’s reassurance, Homily reluctantly lets the girl go, something I appreciated since having her try and keep Arrietty inside all the time would have gotten old very quickly.

Considering the fact that Arrietty is attacked by a cockroach mere moments after setting off, I can definitely sympathise with Homily for having concerns. The poor woman nearly has a heart attack and sinks to the floor in terror, but if she only knew what the night’s borrowing had in store, she would undoubtedly have been even more frightened. Pod knows his wife well enough to realise that telling her about the incident with Shō would be unwise, so he advises Arrietty to keep it between them.

Unfortunately, as the situation escalates, Homily can’t be kept in the dark forever. Once it comes to light that Arrietty has been seen by the boy, she’s forced to accept the possibility of having to leave her lovely home. This is a big deal for Homily, who is the family introvert and very house-proud; her sorrow at the thought of leaving such luxury for a rougher life elsewhere is one of the main things that Arrietty feels guilty about, showing us how much she cares for her mother.

Of course, before the move can be carried out, Homily is in for a few shocks that will test her character to the limits. Shō’s “renovations” are bad enough, although once her initial terror of the human boy has subsided, she does appreciate her lovely new kitchen (even if Pod forbids her from keeping any of the glittering utensils). Later, however, Homily is really pushed outside of her comfort zone when the crafty Haru tracks down the entrance to the Clock lair – Homily tries desperately to escape deeper into the house, but the old housekeeper is too quick for her and scoops her up. In a great little character moment that always makes me laugh, Homily still struggles to hang on to her fancy new teapot even amidst her terror of Haru, who has to really work to prize it out of her little hands.

Soon, Homily finds herself trapped in a jam jar in the Maki’s pantry, so exhausted by fear that she’s on the verge of collapse. You really feel for the poor woman; as the most timid of the Clocks, it’s particularly unfortunate that she happened to be the one Haru found, as she is the least prepared for such an ordeal. Then again, she has more fortitude than I’m giving her credit for, because when Arrietty finally finds her, she is able to master her emotions long enough to escape, even giving the rope a small tug to check it’s secure before climbing out (a nice detail that hints at a tougher past). Homily still can’t bring herself to look at Shō, whose kind face looms in the background, but perhaps later Arrietty was able to properly explain the part he played in her rescue, which could have softened her fear of humans.

Honestly, I love Homily. As a fellow introvert and homebody, I can relate to her desire for comfort; it always makes me giggle seeing her hauling a massive sack down the garden at the end, determined not to leave her treasures behind (don’t worry Homily, I never travel light either). While the move is more of a struggle for her than for Arrietty or Pod, it is all the more impressive that she undertakes it successfully; Arrietty’s support clearly plays a big part in helping her get through it. Once they’re safely aboard their little teapot on the river, Homily finally gets a chance to rest – and in another nice character moment, the first thing she does is pull out a picture of the sea to cheer herself up, reminding us again of the hope and optimism that the borrowers embody.

Arrietty is interesting for a Ghibli film in that it features a fairly clear-cut villain, in the form of Haru, the housekeeper for Shō’s aunt. Haru has presumably been serving Ms Sadako for quite some time, so even before Shō’s arrival, she already has her suspicions about the presence of the borrowers. It’s implied that she has glimpsed them herself once or twice in the past, but has always chalked it up to her imagination until now. The arrival of the young boy – and the first forays of a new borrower – will soon change that.

While her motivations seem rather hazy, Haru is quite a funny and even hammy villain, the likes of which are rarely seen in Ghibli works. Her exaggerated expressions, devilish smiles and habit of muttering to herself all give her a wonderfully creepy presence, with the animators gradually making her look more and more toad-like as her vendetta against the borrowers deepens. Throughout Shō’s stay, Haru pays unusually close attention to him, always eavesdropping or watching him from a distance; she comes across as little more than a nosy busybody at first, but once you understand her suspicions about the borrowers, the whole thing becomes more unnerving.

Haru’s main problem with the borrowers seems to be a moral one, strangely enough. She doesn’t share Shō’s fascination at the very idea of their existence; on the contrary, she is only concerned with the things they’ve been taking from the house she’s supposed to be maintaining. Perhaps it’s a point of pride – how dare these little thieves come and mess up her mistress’s house? While it is stressed for the viewers that the borrowers never take anything that would be missed (Arrietty’s first borrowing expedition is for a sugar cube and a tissue, and Pod warns her not to touch anything in the dollhouse), Haru does not seem to care. To her, the borrowers are little better than the rats, bugs or other pests, a nuisance to be stamped out. The fact that her first reaction upon finding a miniature person under the floorboards is to call a pest control company tells us all we need to know about her priorities.

If Haru’s targets really were just rats or mice, she might not come across as so vindictive. How she can look at the Clocks’ well-organised, ingeniously constructed home and not realise that the borrowers have human-level intelligence is beyond me, but she truly doesn’t seem to distinguish between them and any other pest. I suppose at least she does stress that she doesn’t want the pest controllers to kill them, but then you wonder – what was her eventual goal? Did she plan to try and exhibit the borrowers, or make money off them?

What makes her even more despicable, for me at least, is her treatment of Shō. The boy is literally dying and has come for peace and quiet; Haru is warned explicitly that the slightest excitement before his operation could be catastrophic. Yet what does she do mere days later? Locks him in his bedroom! Quite apart from the matter of the borrowers, what would have happened if Shō had had some kind of medical emergency and couldn’t get out to seek help? Haru doesn’t seem to have any regard for the boy’s safety, although she also doesn’t seem to have any real malice towards him; he is just another minor nuisance to be pushed aside in her quest to trap the borrowers.

It feels good to see Haru thwarted in the end, but it’s frustrating that her presence is the main reason the Clocks have to move away. Pod is undoubtedly familiar with her and has perhaps even had the odd close call with her before, so even if he is aware of Sadako’s benevolence towards his kind, he can’t risk keeping his family in such close proximity to someone like Haru. In the grand scheme of things, I suppose Haru isn’t exactly “evil” – she is, after all, just trying to exterminate what she sees as household pests, which from a certain perspective is part of her job. Still, the viewer is quickly positioned on the borrowers’ side and so we find her morally reprehensible… even if she is also quite funny.

Shō’s Aunt Sadako (possibly his great-aunt, given her age) is kind enough to open her home to him when he’s in need of a quiet place to rest before a major operation. It’s a magnificent home, too, more like a mansion, which somehow manages to feel like a secluded country cottage despite being located in the heart of Tokyo. She also drives a classic Mercedes-Benz, suggesting a wealthy lineage and perhaps a lack of children of her own to spend it on.

Sadako is an outspoken, friendly and independent woman, who drives Shō to her house herself (one might expect a chauffeur, given her apparent wealth) and regularly heads into town on errands. Like her nephew, she has a vivid imagination and enjoys the idea of the borrowers existing in her home, although she doesn’t seem to truly believe it when Haru seriously suggests it. Upon finding evidence of their presence late in the film, Sadako is just as delighted as Shō, but sadly for her they have already decided not to stay, so her father’s dollhouse remains unused after all.

I do like Sadako and it’s good of her to take Shō in when he needs her help. If I had to make one small criticism, it would be of her bad habit of criticising Shō’s parents in front of him. I’m not saying I disagree with her assessment of them, but it’s still not very nice for him to hear; disagreements between adult family members should not involve their children, as a rule. It’s implied that Shō’s mother is Sadako’s younger sister, judging from a picture we see of Sadako as a young girl, but I still find her age rather puzzling – perhaps Shō’s mother had him rather late, which would make sense given her career focus.

The cast is finished off with Spiller, a young, more nomadic borrower from the outside world, whom the Clocks meet after his rescue of Pod in the garden. His arrival excites them, and not only because he’s saved Pod’s life – as he gruffly tells them, he’s aware of other borrowers in the fields beyond the house, giving them the reassurance they’ve been craving that they’re not the last ones left. In Spiller, the Clocks find a concrete reason to hope for a future beyond the Maki house.

Like Pod, Spiller is a man of few words and is clearly not used to the kind of home comforts the Clocks enjoy, but he seems charmed by Arrietty, even shy. It’s hinted that he may have a bit of a crush – and who knows, she may well be one of the first borrowers his own age that he’s ever met! Arrietty, adventurous and athletic as she is, finds Spiller equally interesting, marvelling at his ability to live off the land without the safety of a stable home like she’s enjoyed. The two of them look set to become friends down the line, so it’s nice to know Arrietty won’t have to go back to being the lone young borrower she was at the start.

Spiller goes out of his way to help the Clocks move out of the house, showing Pod the best place to look and then acting as their guide to get them down the river. When he spots Arrietty saying her farewells to Shō, his first instinct is to protect her from a threat and he moves to shoot the poor boy with an arrow (although it’s doubtful it would have caused much damage at that scale, to be honest). However, in another of those key character moments, Spiller seems to recognise (either through body language or just good hearing) that Arrietty is in no danger, thus awakening to the idea that not all humans are dangerous, just as she has.

Our last glimpse of Spiller reminds us how young he is at heart, despite his sombre, hardened exterior. As he pilots the teapot down the river, he notices Arrietty’s despondency and attempts to cheer her up by offering her a juicy raspberry. While he is too embarrassed to look at her, she recognises the kind gesture through the boyish gruffness and accepts it with a smile, much to his glee. It’s so cute! Perhaps they might have a future together, continuing the borrowers’ legacy… the possibilities for fanfiction are endless.

While not really a character in the strictest sense, I felt like I couldn’t end this section without mentioning Niya (or Nina), Sadako’s cat. Niya – who I think is male, despite the name – is a regular presence in Sadako’s garden and has a sort of “frenemy” relationship with Arrietty. Early in the film, he seems to view the borrowers either as pests or even as prey, but Arrietty pays little mind to his furious attempts to catch her, simply waving him off with a smile. Of course, that’s not to say she doesn’t respect the threat he poses, and she is careful to keep an eye on him whenever she’s in the garden.

After Shō arrives, though, the boy works to win the cat’s trust and Niya grudgingly comes to accept him, in that haughty way that only cats can. With Shō’s influence, Niya thus gradually begins to warm up to Arrietty, too, with their “relationship” culminating in her wordlessly asking him to find Shō for her at the end, so she can say goodbye. This he does, and she gives his nose a grateful rub before she goes, their battle of wits finally over. It’s interesting that Niya’s development parallels Haru’s, but where he learns to get over his dislike of the borrowers, she sadly never does.

Animation

Arrietty was animated by Ghibli for Nippon Television Network, Dentsu, Hakuhodo DY Media Partners, Walt Disney Japan, Mitsubishi, Toho and Wild Bunch (that last one you may recognise as one of the co-creators of The Red Turtle), with Toho handling distribution as usual.

The animation team was supervised by Megumi “Ai” Kagawa and Akihiko Yamashita, who were also in charge of character design. Kagawa found that she was most comfortable handling Shō and Arrietty, with Yamashita supervising the other characters. Early designs for Arrietty were “nondescript” and Miyazaki apparently pushed for her to be more beautiful (an interesting point, coming from him, as he had always preferred his heroines to be on the plainer side in his own films). He discouraged the team from going down the action girl, Nausicaä warrior route, wanting Arrietty to feel more distinct from past Ghibli heroines – apparently, he liked the addition of her signature clothespin hairclip, which does help her stand out.

For the other characters, inspiration came from a number of places. Shō, who was originally designed as a younger boy named Kaoru, eventually came to resemble Nona from The Day I Harvested a Star (2006), a Ghibli short produced exclusively for their museum in Tokyo (although Nona’s longer hair makes him look more like a young Howl, to me). Apparently, animating Shō was a “demanding process” because of his slow movements requiring more frames; this is something the animators of Lady Tremaine also found while working on Disney’s Cinderella (1950). Still, subtly in acting pays off if the performance is strong, which Shō’s is. He, too, was made to look more attractive, with the animators seemingly following the Pocahontas principle of making their leads prettier to enhance their “romance” (although it’s more platonic here, of course).

For Homily, “Miyazaki requested a former beauty with a long nose… so she became a bit like Olive Oyl from Popeye”, according to Yonebayashi. Pod, meanwhile, was designed with a more “Germanic” look and European features, intended to be a big, comforting father figure for Arrietty to turn to. His and Spiller’s designs were among the last to be finalised, just before the storyboarding stage, whereas Homily’s seems to have changed little from the beginning, judging by the concept art. Spiller was based primarily on Jimsy from Miyazaki’s old series Future Boy Conan (1978), a “crude diminutive boy”, in Yonebayashi’s words – Jimsy had a much redder palette, but I see the similarities with the shaggy hair and cloak. Haru and Sadako were drawn in deliberate contrast to one another, with the more exaggerated Haru serving as the prime comic relief of the human world in the same way Homily is for the world below. Even the crow was given special attention, with Miyazaki slapping the crest on it to make it look like “a hoodlum from Gunma”.

Kaori Fujii handled animation checking while Atsushi Okui directed the digital imaging. As with previous Ghibli works, the team made use of the harmony processing technique for certain scenes, whereby images would be painted by the animator and transferred directly onto the cel with a trace machine using black carbon. Scenes where this was used include the one where the characters admire the interior of the dollhouse with its intricate furnishings. Noriko Takaya, who had supervised this process on Howl’s Moving Castle and other films like Summer Wars (2009), was recruited once again to do so here, on the recommendation of art director Yoji Takeshige.

Altogether, the completed film comprised some 996 shots with a total of roughly 74,761 frames of key animation drawings; one can only imagine how many it must have taken to create something as long as The Tale of the Princess Kaguya! The animation in Arrietty is of the usual high standard you’d expect of Ghibli, although if anything, it’s even more polished, perhaps benefiting from the simpler setting and relative lack of characters. The attack of the crow is a comedic standout and Haru has some fantastic character moments with that funny face of hers, but I especially liked the depiction of Arrietty and Pod’s borrowing escapades and Arrietty’s interactions with Shō for their attention to detail.

Plot

Mary Norton’s 1952 book The Borrowers was the first entry in a series of five, quickly establishing itself as a modern classic over successive generations. It won the Carnegie Medal in 1953 (among other accolades) and had already been adapted into two films (1973 and 1997) and a TV series (1992-1993) by the time Ghibli turned their attention to it. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised Disney never produced a version of it, since it seems like it would be right up their alley – perhaps they couldn’t secure the rights.

The screenplay was penned by Miyazaki in collaboration with Niwa Keiko and remained fairly faithful to the original book, with the most notable change being the early introduction of Spiller, who was not introduced until the second book in the series. Miyazaki also chose to update the setting to a Japanese home rather than an English one, to allow local audiences to better relate to the story. (He moved it to the Koganei neighbourhood of Tokyo, where Studio Ghibli itself is located). Having not read the original book myself, I still feel like this captures the atmosphere of such stories very well; classic British children’s stories of the last century often revolved around magical gardens (e.g., The Secret Garden from 1911, or Tom’s Midnight Garden from 1958), and I’d love to see what Yonebayashi could do with some of those.

Originally, Yonebayashi considered taking the story in a more serious direction by focusing on the plight of the borrowers (presumably this would have taken Ghibli’s usual environmental angle), but Miyazaki did not approve that version and shifted the focus onto the relationship between Arrietty and Shō, feeling that a more sentimental tone would be better suited to the harsh economic times of a post-recession world. Yonebayashi found the screenplay exciting and visually compelling, creating “fast-paced” storyboards because he “didn’t want the story to lag”. It was he who decided to have Arrietty get angry after Shō’s interference with the kitchen, so he enlisted Keiko to help him write dialogue that would smoothly flow into the rescue of Homily later on. Yonebayashi also moved the goodbye to the edge of the garden rather than the gazebo where it was originally set, wanting to get Shō away from the “alien world” of the mansion (nice to see that Yonebayashi did have some control, despite Miyazaki’s influence).

Like many Ghibli works, Arrietty brings its fantasy elements to life by connecting them to the reality that we’re familiar with, making the borrowers feel like a realistic part of our own world. We also have the usual Ghibli themes of preserving the natural order of things in the face of man’s endless expansion and consumption, with the particular theme of humans driving other creatures from their homes reminding me strongly of Takahata’s Pom Poko (1994).

Cinematography

The film’s art direction was handled by Yoji Takeshige and Noboru Yoshida, working in tandem as is often the case on Ghibli productions. They were supported by Naomi Mori, who replaced Michiyo Yasuda as colour designer – Yonebayashi drew key scenes from the film as colour references for her, after the storyboards were complete. Takeshige actually joined the production after work had already begun, drawing upon his own childhood memories of exploring an abandoned mansion near his home when designing the interiors of the Maki house. Yonebayashi himself also visited a dollhouse museum (perhaps the one in Hakone) for further inspiration, while Miyazaki contributed a dollhouse catalogue.

As with the animation, the work of art direction was split down the middle; Yoshida took responsibility for designing the borrowers’ world, while Takeshige focused on the humans. One of their biggest challenges was in figuring out how to use scale, perspective and angles to accurately portray the different ways the two peoples saw the same world, but personally, I think they did an excellent job.

The team focused on using colour and mood to bring the house to life and give it some character of its own. Yoshida chose more subdued and earthy colours for the interior of the Clock home to keep it feeling closer to nature, paying close attention to the proper scaling of the objects inside it and dreaming up the various ways in which the borrowers might have adapted human-sized things for their own uses. He was helped in this by Yonebayashi, who also solved the problem of how to light their underground home naturally, by angling sunlight through a discarded bottle. The final shot of Arrietty’s family floating away in a kettle was decided upon by the director early on.

I have to say, the garden in this film is one of the prettiest settings in all of Ghibli-dom, and that’s saying something. Everything about this house is absolutely gorgeous; I could easily see myself living there, if I could afford it! The backgrounds are rich and detailed, on par with anything from Howl’s Moving Castle or Spirited Away, and you can pick out all sorts of fun little quirks in the Clock home when you pay attention.

In terms of individual scenes, it’s tough to single anything out as the film is pretty consistently directed and revolves around the sole setting of the house, but I do love the gradual build-up of tension during Arrietty’s first borrowing. The scale is well used to emphasise how small and vulnerable the borrowers are and you’re just waiting for them to get caught. After the luxury of the dollhouse lulls you into a false sense of security, you think they’ve made it – and then comes that sharp cut to Shō, gazing peacefully at them. How did they manage to make a gentle 12-year-old boy so scary? The goodbye between him and Arrietty is also nicely done, with the rising sun gradually banishing the dark and anxiety to make way for the optimistic glow of a new day.

Soundtrack

Before I talk about the score, I have to take just a moment to praise the wonderful sound design in this film. It’s not an element I typically focus on, but Koji Kasamatsu made really creative use of sound here to further heighten the illusion of what being a borrower would actually feel like. All the sounds are magnified from Arrietty’s perspective to reflect how she hears the world, from the rustling of Shō’s clothes to the incessant ticking of a clock; the same sounds are almost unnoticeable when we switch to the humans’ perspective, with the contrast serving to further immerse us in this world. It’s nicely done.

Arrietty’s score was composed by French recording artist Cécile Corbel, marking the first time a foreign composer had worked for the Japanese studio (and also the second time they’d had a female composer, following Akiko Yano). Corbel was a big fan of the studio’s output and, while promoting her second album Songbook vol. 2, she took a chance and sent one of her remaining promo albums to Ghibli to see if anything came of it. Arrietty was only in pre-production at that time, but as it happened, producer Toshio Suzuki had been hoping to capture a more Celtic sound for the score. Corbel’s handwritten letter caught his eye and he was quickly captivated by her voice and harp-playing. Yonebayashi and Yamaha Music enjoyed her work too, so less than ten days after she’d sent the CD, Corbel received an email from Ghibli asking her if she’d like to write the title song for the film. Eventually, in 2009, she was hired to compose the entire score, which she did with the help of Simon Caby. I love stories like this – it must have been a dream come true for her!

Corbel’s final score combined musical elements of Celtic folk music, just as Suzuki had wanted, along with medieval Turkish songs, Baroque madrigals and Irish marches. She recorded it in France with a small orchestra that included acoustic guitars, bass, a string quartet, bagpipes, Irish flutes, bodhrán, percussion and an accordion. Impressively, the film’s soaring main theme – Arrietty’s Song – was performed by Corbel not only in English but also Japanese, German, Italian and French (reminds me of what Ofra Haza did on The Prince of Egypt). The music is used sparingly to great effect in several key moments, usually when the artists are showing off some of their lovely scenery; Shō’s arrival in the garden and the reveal of the dollhouse interior were thus some of the musical highlights for me. Jolly and delicate by turns, it reminds me of Cartoon Saloon’s usual sound, adding to the film’s soothing atmosphere.

The original Japanese cast featured Ryūnosuke Kamiki in the role of Shō, who is rapidly becoming my favourite Japanese voice actor (seriously, he seems to be in all the best stuff – Your Name, Spirited Away, Howl’s Moving Castle, Kirikou and the Sorceress, not to mention Yonebayashi’s later film Mary and the Witch’s Flower). Interestingly, when it came to dubbing the film for English-speaking markets, two different dubs were produced (the theory is that Optimum wanted to get the film out in the UK before the American dub was ready). Since the Disney deal in 1996, Ghibli films typically only received one English dub (if they got one at all, eh Only Yesterday?), so this was an unusual move.

The British dub arrived about a year after the Japanese release in mid-2011 and starred none other than Tom Holland in his film debut (he’d just filmed The Impossible at the time, but that would not be released until 2012). It also featured the final performance of Geraldine McEwan, with other key roles being filled by big names like Saoirse Ronan and Olivia Colman. Holland, then only about 14, is perhaps a trifle wooden at times, but he does add some good character touches here and there with his heavy breathing and coughing (and he has improved greatly since then). Ronan, then about 16, is fantastic as ever, showing her chops even in this early role and making the character of Arrietty her own – she hasn’t done much voicework since then, but I’d love to see her attached to another major animated release. This is one instance where I wouldn’t object to celebrity voice casting!

Naturally, being British, I only know the 2011 dub, but I’m a little sceptical about the American one from what I’ve read. Released in 2012, it features David Henrie and Bridgit Mendler in the lead roles, but while this seems to have delighted fans of Wizards of Waverly Place, I can’t help feeling like they were both a tad too old for such young roles by then. I mean seriously, Henrie was in his early twenties at the time, voicing a boy of around 12. I suspect this choice was made to try and play up the “romance” of the relationship by making Shō seem older, but was that really necessary?

The American dub also adds a final monologue where Shō states more explicitly what happened to him; apparently, he survived his operation, returned to the house a year later and was happy to hear rumours of objects going missing in neighbouring houses, implying Arrietty has found her new home. Whether you prefer this to the more open-ended ending is up to you, but for me, it demonstrates a certain lack of faith in the American audience to read between the lines. Why did Shō need to spell this out? Is ambiguity really that off-putting? Arrietty’s confident assertion that the borrowers would not allow themselves to be wiped out should be enough to reassure us that it won’t happen, at least not anytime soon.

Final Verdict –

In 2010, the completed film was released at a premiere ceremony attended by the film’s cast and Yonebayashi; Corbel was also present to perform the film’s theme live for the audience. Arrietty became a huge hit in Japan, with over a million people going to see it in its opening weekend alone. It topped the Japanese box office as the highest-grossing film of the year, before going on to enjoy further success abroad. Once the dubs were done, the American one did particularly well, where it opened to 1,522 theatres (the most ever for a Ghibli release at the time) and beat Ponyo’s recently set record as the most financially successful Ghibli release in the USA to date. It also did well in France, South Korea and Hong Kong.

Strangely, while Arrietty received mostly glowing reviews that praised its animation, music and direction, few people seem to talk about it these days. The criticism it did get largely boiled down to the film being too simple and insubstantial, with some critics feeling that it lacked the “punch” of Ghibli’s bigger, more spectacular epics. (Of course, the unfamiliar name of the director may have had something to do with people forgetting it). The film went on to win the Animation of the Year award at the 34^th Japan Academy Prize award ceremony, and was released to DVD and Blu-ray in 2011, with GKIDS reissuing it in both formats in 2017.

Looking back on Arrietty after more than a decade, I’m disappointed by how obscure it seems to have become. Don’t get me wrong; I know it’s doing better than some of Takahata’s works (when was the last time you heard anyone mention My Neighbours the Yamadas?), but it still seems to be lost in the shadow of Miyazaki’s achievements for many fans. Personally, I adore this one – it may not be as high-stakes as a Miyazaki or as thought-provoking as a Takahata, but this story doesn’t need any of that. Yonebayashi handles this cosy little drama with the perfect level of intimacy and atmosphere, creating one of the most relaxing aesthetics I’ve ever seen in film. Much like My Neighbour Totoro, this film’s strength lies in its very simplicity, with a kind of deceptive charm that draws you in and cheers you up. Seriously, this is the perfect thing to put on after a hard day if you need to unwind.

The backgrounds and animation are more than equal to Ghibli’s usual crisp standard, with the bright Celtic score raising the whole experience up another notch; it’s easy to lose yourself in Arrietty’s world, filled as it is with such exquisitely designed detail. The central relationship between her and Shō is sweet and appropriately handled, without straying into the kind of cloying sentimentality that an American production might have done. Perhaps it does meander a bit in the middle, but I can’t really find any major faults with it. What can I say, guys – this one just does it for me. If this is one of those Ghibli films that you’ve always meant to get around to, I urge you to make time for it soon.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you’ve enjoyed this review! After all these weeks, I’m finally done defending these underappreciated Ghibli gems, so we’ll be moving back to western animation next month with Who Framed Roger Rabbit. I will be coming back to Ghibli again down the line, of course; I know one of my regulars has requested Kiki’s Delivery Service and Princess Mononoke, both of which are on my list, but they’re not currently scheduled to come up until late next year at the earliest. There’s a lot of Pixar to get through first! Before we get to Roger, though, we’ll be continuing with the First Thoughts series, with the next one being Sita Sings the Blues. Until then, take care and staaay animated!

My Rating – 4/5

You didn’t think I’d forget to include this cap, did ya?

References

I consulted my own books to research for this review, as well as some standard web sources:

Studio Ghibli: The Films of Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata (2019 ed.) by Colin Odell and Michelle Le Blanc

The Art of The Secret World of Arrietty by Hiromasa Yonebayashi (2012); translated edition by Takami Nieda (2018)

By Source, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=26079675 – credit for poster

http://www.decentfilms.com/blog/are-the-borrowers-thieves – a sensible discussion of the morality of the borrowers’ “borrowing”, for anyone concerned

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SwhgmBNhAW0 – a young Tom Holland discusses his role

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEvlgOUP7Qc – an early Chris Stuckmann review of the film

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BzvAEW-bUHo – a brief review for Disneycember by Doug Walker

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arrietty – Wiki page

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1568921/ – IMDb profile