Pom Poko

Pom Poko is part of "my canon," a totally arbitrary and subjective list of my 100 favorite movies. For reviews of other movies on this list, look for the Top 100 category on the right sidebar. 

It’s hard to think of a more ceaselessly inventive, invigorating, lovely, and complex film than Pom Poko, Isao Takahata’s 1994 gem released by Studio Ghibli. That this masterwork comes in the form of a narrative about a gang of shapeshifting raccoons who rise up against the human developers that threaten to demolish their land makes the movie’s success even more astounding: silly on the surface but complicated at heart, Pom Poko is a seemingly inexhaustible nugget of riches and delights, visual and otherwise. 

The film begins with a whimsical illustration of a raccoon as it might appear in a children’s storybook, complete with a nursery rhyme lilting on the soundtrack. This is a mere appetizer for the visual and aural ingenuity that the movie will present over the next two hours. Quite rapidly, through exposition provided via voiceover as well as bizarre and kinetic imagery, it is explained that various tribes of raccoons have ceased their territorial warfare in order to band together and stop the tide of urbanization that has been eradicating their habitat. Utilizing the vast potential of hand-drawn animation as few others have done, Takahata visualizes this backstory in stunningly creative ways: gargantuan bulldozers remove entire mountainsides in one vicious swipe, as high-rise condominiums take their place; a close-up of a single leaf is gradually eaten away by other construction machines, a powerful and grimly beautiful metaphor that conveys its theme to all members of the audience, no matter their age.
 
Thematically at least, it sounds like we’re in the realm of other animated message movies like The Lorax or Ferngully: The Last Rainforest: well-intentioned but didactic lessons about the importance of cherishing our natural environment. That’s certainly one of Pom Poko’s many themes, but the story and its repercussions go in unexpected directions. Some of the raccoons support militant activism, destroying construction vehicles and equipment even when they’re occupied by humans, caring little for the people they kill and considering them simply casualties of war. Other raccoons favor a more insidious sabotage, making it appear that sacred guardians are protecting the proposed construction sites or scaring the human workers by imitating evil spirits. Still others propose ideas for a nascent raccoon civilization, setting up rescue squads and teaching others how to avoid traffic. When all of these tactics ultimately appear futile, the raccoons are forced to consider a solution that is faced by many resisters and freedom fighters at one point or another: to relent and become part of the machine, desperately holding on to any semblance of rebellion and liberty they can while compromising their idealism in order to survive.

It’s no exaggeration to say that Pom Poko provides a snapshot of a resistance movement, painting a complex portrait of how cultures victimize and vilify “the Other” until all connection has been dissolved and rapprochement seems impossible—a theme heartbreakingly conveyed by a late image in which several human children coo at the adorable raccoons, who can only shriek in dismay and run away in fear, having learned their lesson about the destructive human race. That such a multifaceted depiction of resistance, politicization, and maintaining hope in the face of despair arrives in the form of a quirky animated movie is truly remarkable—a sign of Takahata’s ambition and flair as an artist.
 
Indeed, this thematic complexity goes hand-in-hand with rampaging creativity and a wild, scatological sense of humor. The shapeshifting raccoons appear as either realistic animals as we know them, more anthropomorphized characters familiar from animated movies, or utterly bizarre sprites who take on cartoonish form when they become ecstatic—providing plenty of opportunities for visual playfulness. One scene involving a “Goblin Parade,” in which the raccoons try to astound humans into respecting them by providing a dazzling display of grotesque visions and fantastic creatures, is a wonder to behold—though even this becomes bittersweet when two older men completely miss such spectacular visions as they drink at a bar, unable to appreciate the wonder that surrounds them. Even the movie’s funniest running joke—the fact that the raccoons can use their massive scrotums as weapons or as flying devices, even chanting war songs that mention their prominent balls—becomes somber when the raccoons’ testicles are beaten by riot police near the end of the movie. A less confident or courageous movie might be afraid to blend such goofy humor with rich political subtext, but Pom Poko abounds with ideas and presents them with unmatched bravado and intelligence.
 
Is Pom Poko the most ambitious and creative anime movie ever made? That would be a bold claim for a subgenre known for its visual inventiveness and dense storylines, a category that also boasts such masterpieces as Grave of the Fireflies (also directed by Takahata, though it’s wildly different), Princess Mononoke, and Millennium Actress. But I think it’s fair to state that Pom Poko presents a lofty standard of vitality, sophistication, urgency, and sheer excitement to which other films (not just animated ones) should aspire. Imagine a Pixar movie about anti-establishment resistance featuring eye-popping animation that also brings a tear to your eye. It would be something of a miracle—which is a fine way to describe Pom Poko itself.  

Top 100

Pom Poko

Grade: A

Runtime: 119m.
Country: Japan
Premiere: July 16, 1994 (Japan)
US Release: December 15, 1995

Director: Isao Takahata
Producers: Ned Lott, Toshio Suzuki, Yasuyoshi Tokuma
Writers: Isao Takahata, Hayao Miyazaki (story)
Music: Shang Shang Typhoon
Cinematography: Atsushi Okui
Editor: Takeshi Seyama
Voice Cast: Shinchô Kokontei, Makoto Nonomura, Yuriko Ishida, Norihei Miki, Nijiko Kiyokawa, Shigeru Izumiya, Gannosuke Ashiya, Takehiro Murata, Beichô Katsura, Bunshi Katsura Vi, Kosan Yanagiya, Akira Kamiya, Rei Sakuma, Tomokazu Seki, Minoru Yada, Yorie Yamashita