Pom Poko (1994)

Pom Poko (1994), directed by Isao Takahata, 3.5 stars

It’s the 1960s and Japan is experiencing unprecedented growth.  The once verdant Japanese hillsides surrounding Tokyo are being turned into huge apartment complexes and the wildlife that formerly inhabited these dense forests is being forced out or worse.  Bands of raccoons that have traditionally fought each other come together to form a unified front whose purpose is to fend off further incursions by man.  One such band has learned the ancient raccoon art of transforming into other objects, including humans.  The elders teach as many of the other groups who are able to learn to shapeshift in order to perform terrorist activities whose purpose is to thwart any new construction, thereby preserving what’s left of the receding forest.

Like many animated films from Japan’s Studio Ghibli, this feature has a strong environmental focus.  The destroyers of the natural habitat are not depicted as evil, simply as misguided and incapable of restraining their escalating population growth.  Of course, the raccoons have the same problem.  They, too, cannot contain their sexual urges and exacerbate their own situation by having to share with greater numbers a dwindling supply of food.  The humans are simply the superior species, and the raccoons must adapt or die.  But not without at least one last display of their abilities.  Under the tutelage of three great shapeshifters from afar, they perform a spectacular nighttime display, filling the city sky with dragons, skeletons, ancient spirits, flying squids, fire-breathing tigers, and other ghostly visions.  The scene is an animator’s dream, combining vivid Japanese iconography with wacky characters right out of a Bob Clampett Warner Brothers’ cartoon.

Unfortunately, the spectacle backfires.  Instead of instilling fear and dread, the humans take great delight in the display and want more.  Some raccoons go back to their old ways, some join the humans, others coexist dangerously on the fringes.  The film bears witness to conflict between young and old, old ways and new, war and diplomacy, and the endless cycle of life and death.  Not having much of an appreciation of Japanese art, history, or culture, I’m sure that many of the nuances were lost on me.  Although I liked the film quite a bit—better on this, my second viewing than on my first—I’m sure it would have been a much more rewarding experience seeing it in the company of native speakers with a true understanding of the cultural references, rich symbolism, and folk tales scattered throughout.