Spoilers and so forth follow!
Round, round, go round
Waterwheel, go round
Go round, and call Mr Sun
Go round, and call Mr Sun
Birds, bugs, beasts
Grass, trees, flowers
Bring spring and summer, fall and winter,
Bring spring and summer, fall and winter
This is a film that gave me a bit more to chew on than I expected, if only because the basic premise of the fable seems to be a different thread than the story that is presented in the middle of the film.
So, we know that the folktale is a fairly simple one. A bamboo cutter finds a tiny doll-like girl when he's out farming bamboo and brings the girl home. She turns into a baby girl and eventually grows into a princess who is desired by every man, including the Emperor. At some point, she realizes she is from the moon and that she has to return to the moon on August 15th. When that date arrives, she returns to the moon, forgetting all of her experiences from Earth. From what little I know, I can only assume the story itself is about the transience of life on Earth - that even for a moon goddess, her time on Earth is limited and will eventually be forgotten. It's very, excuse the use of the phrase, "mono no aware". The Wikipedia entry points to that idea by describing more to the folktale, where the Emperor has a chance at immortality but turns it down because he doesn't want to live without Kaguya.
But the folktale serves as a framing device for the "middle" of the film, where we see Kaguya grow from a young child to a young woman. The first act, where we see her grow up in the mountains, depicts a simple rural life where she is free to run barefoot in the forest and have fun with other children. We even see her defy the rules of society when she "steals" a melon and takes a moment to enjoy the fruits of her labour with her childhood friend Sutemaru:
Unfortunately for Kaguya, her father seems to believe that the heavens have greater plans for their miracle daughter and decides to take her to the city to be raised as a proper princess. She is forced to abandon her life in the mountains and her friends, while she is forced to learn the rules of "proper" society. I think it's fitting that as we see her rebel against her training, she finds joy in the one aspect of becoming a princess that still allows her to express herself:
The koto, and music in general, becomes a through-line in the movie, as it represents both the freedom to express herself but also the cyclical nature of life (and of the film itself).
Superficially, I compared this arc of Kaguya's character development to
Brave, as Kaguya is taught to become a princess for the purposes of finding a suitor and marrying into a wealthy family. And if this was a Disney film, I'm sure at some point she would have sung "Let it go" or something similar to express how she feels so constrained by the role that her father has defined for her. Of course, this film is much more subtle with its character development, and we see Kaguya constantly struggle with her desire to be free of the shackles of being a princess and her desire to make her father happy. There are constant reminders of this conflict that she feels, most notably at the turning point of the film where Kaguya falls asleep at her "debutante" party.
Trying to describe the most visually arresting scene in the film in words is a fruitless exercise, but you can see a brief snippet in the trailer:
http://youtu.be/9lDrkokymLQ?t=4m11s
But in her dream she breaks free of the shackles of the city and rushes back to her mountain home. She finds that her childhood friend has moved away because the mountain's trees have been farmed too much and the mountain has become "dead". Before she loses hope though, a man who lives on the mountain shows her the signs of life, and explains to her that the mountain will recover in time:
The trees will bloom again, just as she will after she wakes from her dream and resolves to make the best of her situation by throwing herself into learning how to be a proper lady. Her time in the city is as transient and cyclical as the seasons and the harvest in the mountains, and there is hope that at some point she will be free of the obligations placed on her by her father and be able to be herself again.
Of course, the film itself a very simple metaphor to describe the position that she finds herself in:
Round, round, go round
Waterwheel, go round
Go round, and call Mr Sun
Go round, and call Mr Sun
Birds, bugs, beasts
Grass, trees, flowers
Flower, bear fruit and die
Be born, grow up, and die
Still the wind blows, the rain falls
The waterwheel goes round
Lifetimes come and go in turn
Lifetimes come and go in turn
The major complication of the film seems inevitable, albeit slightly disconnected from the major theme of the folktale. She is approached by five powerful suitors, who each try to woo her and win her hand in marriage. They use trite words to try to show their "love" for a woman that they have never seen, spouting pretentious false profundities at her in the hope that she will play the part of the proper princess and respond in kind.
It's the type of metaphor that Shakespeare himself would make fun of in his own sonnets, because these comparisons are simply empty words.
Obviously she refuses to play along, realizing that all they see in her is a possession to be obtained:
She uses their words against them, giving them the impossible task of finding these objects that they have used to try to describe her beauty.
If the small through-line in the film is the freedom of art and music, we can see how expressions of artistry can be stifling as well. Using their expressions of love against her suitors is her way to turn those metaphors against them, to try to claim some measure of self-determination.
It's fitting that after she rebuffs her suitors, she has a short scene where she is able experience the freedom of the country again. She runs up a hill to a sakura tree and frolics around like she used to when she was a girl living in the mountains.
However, her happiness is short lived as she is quickly taken back to reality when a child bumps into her and the child's mother prostrates herself in order to apologize.
She's offered a small sliver of hope after she's reminded of the burden of the status when she reunites with her childhood friend, but even that hope is fleeting, as we can see near the end of the film.
It's also fitting that the most tragic scene in the film happens after this scene where she is brought back to reality, when one of the suitors comes back to her not with Buddha's stone bowl, but with more empty words that he knows she wants to hear:
He is probably the most self-aware of the suitors and is probably the only one who comes close to "seducing" Kaguya. But the words cut her more than he would know, because although nothing would make her happier than to simply go back to the mountain, she knows that to him these are mere poetic pleasantries.
Perhaps this is what ties this part of the film with the opening, because Takahata explicitly ties in Kaguya's desire to escape the social constraints that she finds herself under with the inevitable ending of the folktale where she is forced to return to the moon. The cyclical nature of the word play is very much related to the cycles of life, both on the nobles trying to deceive her for the sake of possessing a wife, and also the fact that her own edict to the men to find these mythical treasures indirectly leading to the death of one of one of her suitors. Presumably, since Kaguya can't "die" in the way that humans can, the angst she is forced to suffer through living on Earth is enough to replicate the cycle of life and death.
Go round, come round, come round
Come round, O distant time
Come round, call back my heart
Come round, call back my heart
Birds, bugs, beasts
Grass, tress, flowers
Teach me how to feel
If I hear that you pine for me
I will return to you
I was a bit confused when the film entered its final act. After the five suitors fail to win Kaguya, the Emperor himself takes an interest in her and decides to posses her as well. His incessant desire to posses her is what causes her to cry out for help, forcing the story to its inevitable and predestined ending. Almost out of nowhere, Kaguya suddenly remembers where she is from and knows that on August 15th, she will have to return to the moon and forget her experiences on Earth. When I was watching the film, it felt like an extremely odd transition - like the film was trying to force itself back to the folktale because that's simply how the story must end.
But when I think about how the film considers the transience of life, it makes sense that her departure is sudden and unexpected. Life itself is like that, and you can't plan for when it will necessarily end. And thinking about the film even more, it's perfect how Kaguya's personal desires ties into the transient and cyclical nature of life.
For example, earlier in the film, we see that she tries to recapture her childhood by growing a garden and trying to recreate the home that she used to live in:
But after the suitor accidentally kills himself, she recognizes that she can't return home. Her memories are just memories and can't be recreated:
Life can only move forward, and as much as you want to return to a simpler or happier time in your life, you can't. You can only face what is ahead of you.
Near the end of the movie, when she realizes that she has to go back to the moon, she has one final chance to return to her home in the mountains. She reunites with Sutemaru one more time, now a grown man with his own family, and they share a moment where they think they might run away together and live the life they might have had if she had stayed in the mountains:
But even though she is happy living in a moment of literally limitless possibilities, as she flies through the sky with Sutemaru in his arms, they both realize that this moment is just a fantasy. That life has pushed them forward, and continues to push them forward. They both accept this fact, even if they want to revel in the moment for as long as they can:
The scene ends with Kaguya simply disappearing, becoming a fond memory for Sutemaru who has a responsibility as a husband and a father to think about his life now, rather than a life he might have had if he had married Kaguya.
What feels like a complication that comes out of the blue becomes a moment of inevitability. Her anxiety over being forced to become a princess and the fact that the emperor wants to possess her ties into the cycle of life that she represents. Kaguya herself is a cycle, as she explains that another goddess had come to Earth before her and presumably lived through the same experiences. Although Kaguya ascends to the moon rather than explicitly die like a human being would, she herself lives through a cycle of creation and death. Her memories of Earth are taken away from her, and all she is left with is a sense of pathos over what she has lost, shedding tears for a life she is forced to leave behind, much like the goddess that inspired her to come to Earth in the first place:
But because life is cyclical, the film doesn't end with a symbol of death:
The image we are left with is Kaguya as a child, and the reminder that life will simply continue.
Again, it's hard for me to parse the meaning of the folktale because I don't explicitly know what moral the story is meant to impart... or if it is even meant to be didactic at all. I watched the
Folktales from Japan version of the story, which you can find here:
http://www.crunchyroll.ca/folktales...-demonic-little-sister-scary-meat-buns-594991
And, as you might expect, an 8 minute version of the story doesn't really illuminate much about how you are supposed to interpret the story. I imagine these are like Grimm's Fairy Tales (or at least the Disney version of these stories), where children are taught these stories at a young age and simply understand what they are supposed to mean.
With that qualifier out of the way, I can only suggest that the folktale, or at least Takahata's version of the Folk Tale, asks the audience to consider how they live their lives, but to not dwell on the past. It is a film that asks its characters to live in the moment of the present, because ultimately that is all we have to go by.
I feel like it makes a nice companion to Takahata's earlier film,
Only Yesterday, which also plays with memory and nostalgia. Only Yesterday tells its story through flashbacks, while Kaguya-hime no Monogatari does it by decidedly keeping the story in the present, but both ultimately come to the same conclusions about the nature of life.
And much like
The Wind Rises, where Miyazaki has a chance to reflect on his career, you could almost see Takahata considering his own life as an animator in this film. Just as Kaguya moves on to her next phase in life, Takahata is presumably leaving behind his life as an animator with a story that asks the audience to embrace transient nature of simply being alive. He knows he can't direct and make animated films forever, and that it's up to the next generation of animators to take over. Heck, it even serves as a post-script to Ghibli as a studio.
On that note, I will say that there is a sense of pathos watching this film knowing that Ghibli itself is at an end. Sure, there's
Omoide no Marni, but it doesn't look like that film set the world on fire... so hope for a non-Miyazaki led Ghibli seems dim at best. What that means is probably the end of traditional hand drawn animated films as we know it. Yes, there will be people who will make animated films, but the idea of taking 5 years to painstakingly animate a film about a man who designed a fighter plane or about a princess born in a bamboo shoot is one that would be simply laughable to a studio like Disney. Even if animated films can be passion projects, the financial realities now mean the use of digital tools and other short cuts that simply compromise the purity that is on display in an Ghibli animated film. Just look at the anime we get now and you can see that even at its best, it just can't compare to either of Miyazaki's or Takahata's final films. In a way, it's similar to the death of film stock, where it is only the handful of directors who are hanging on to a particular aesthetic that are willing or even able to go through the trouble of shooting on old, non-digital cameras. When Tarantino or Nolan finally retire, we'll probably see the end of that type of filmmaking as we know it.
To avoid ending on such a depressing note, I will say that the film is a celebration of the artistry of the medium. I said this of
The Wind Rises, and the same is true of this film as well. If you just take the time to really look at what you are watching, you can see the work put into each frame of the film. I'm not the most technically minded when it comes to art or animation, so I can only appreciate the artistry as a layperson, but even I can see why this film took so long to make. Independent of the story itself, you can see this film - this text - as a work of art. It's just that beautiful.