Ani-Me #26: POM POKO Asks You To Consider The Raccoon (Patreon)

It’s fun knowing absolutely nothing about a movie.

Specifically, it’s one of my favorite things about doing this Ani-Me series and going through certain director’s filmographies and jumping into new entries blindly. To wit, I’ve been slowly checking in with Takahata’s films from time to time. At this point I’ve revisited the emotional devastation of Grave of the Fireflies and then absolutely came to adore Only Yesterday. And now since I finally finished my FullMetal Alchemist: Brotherhood journey (a column I keep rewriting, but will put out next week) it was time to dip a toe back into Takahata’s oeuvre. And since it's been a rough week for so many, I was like “ooooh, a bunch of cute raccoon characters! Gonna get to keep it light today!” And hahahahahah if you’ve seen the film, you’re already laughing, too. Because I had no idea I was going to watch a movie that was 33% cute and 67% an unblinking stare into the deeply the existential horrors of man’s damage to the environment, along with the ways it causes strafe in the societies most affected by it. It’s like Watership Down, only sometimes it’s funny and they use their magic testicles as weapons.

But this is all part of the wonder of discovery.

And part of the fun of that is coming to understand things you don’t really know about beforehand. Like the fact that using the word “raccoon” is really a misnomer and we’re talking about the Tanuki, which more translates to “Japanese Raccoon Dog” which is much more close to a fox anyway. But like many American’s my age, my understanding of the Tanuki starts and ends with the Tanooki suit in Supermario 3. But let’s just say that the “shape-shifting” into a statue thing makes a lot more sense (also Tom Nook so I guess he shape-shifts into someone who is pretending they’re NOT trapping you in a vicious cycle of capitalism?). But there’s really so much here that feels so vividly new and yet inviting you to understand. Again, this is a film with wall-to-wall use of magic testicles. Which may feel so bizarre to us, but apparently is far more tongue and cheek and just playing with common folklore tropes (and perhaps America is just so terrified of basic anatomy) But this great video goes into all background on the details of the cultural context and folklore of film and I loved it. When I watched the parade scene in particular I said it was “why we have movies,” which I don’t say lightly. Because it is the prime example of the things that can’t be seen otherwise. The movie just “stops” to behold the great wonder and play with all the folklore symbols of import. And there’s a reason it inspires more awe than it does the intended horror in the audience.

It’s also a startling reminder that narrative doesn’t need to fit conventionality in order to function. I imagine you may say, “Hey, aren’t the guy who talks about the dangers of “and then” storytelling? Not having central characters with arcs and all that?” Yup! But most of the time I’m talking about conventional stories that are trying to do that stuff and failing at it. And make no mistake, when you come at your narrative in a different way, you lose those dramatic advantages. Which means you have to find ways to adapt. But that’s exactly what Pom Poko does by turning the film into more of a “nature documentary,” complete with voice over and historical dates and all that, which only helps emphasize the film’s core environmental message. And instead of using traditional main characters, it’s about the characterization of the group as a whole. Weirdly, it’s kind of like The Smurfs, in that it’s showing a group with little characters that poke out of the herd - mostly thanks to little bits of personality and design - all to represent the different ideologies on how to solve the group’s problems. There’s Gonta the brave, always in favor of war! Or the sensitivity of Shôkichi and his carefulness with the group’s needs! And of course the wise and ancient transformation masters, who promise salvation, but are still ultimately battling their own personal demons and trying to make peace with the end of their lives and changing times! Wait, what? Yeah, it’s honestly pretty complex, psychologically speaking, but it’s still effective with kids and adults alike because it’s so damn direct.

Which is something I’ve been noticing about anime in a grander sense, especially in relation to a lot of western media. Often, there’s just this utter de-emphasis in plot (and even the most technical and plotty movies seem nigh incomprehensible, so it’s more about the complex texture of feeling plottiness?). Anyway, what it “loses” in the tension of crisp plotting, it makes up for, really good at interiority. That’s the very directness I’m speaking of. The narrator always brings us exactly into what the group is wrestling with. We understand the internal struggle so damn clearly that we can jump from A beat to B beat to C beat and there’s a reason it all still works. And more importantly, there’s a reason it all resonates so deeply. Because what I most notice about this and so much of Ghibli’s output is this ability to be honest, unblinking, and unsentimental about the sadder struggles of the world. Which I think it’s one of the most important things for a kid to emotionally find a way of being in tune with. Alas, it’s precisely the kind of film that parents hide from kids, while offering far more “adult” fare that doesn’t actually deal with our adult struggles.

Which just means that as an adult, it hits harder because we see what we weren’t told all those years ago - but instead told to us by the ugly world that has seemingly unfolded. Especially now, as America gets railroaded by reactionary christian judges and the oppression they represent, I can’t explain just how much action on climate change is just constantly falling by the wayside, even though it is perhaps the most urgent. It is easy to feel that sense of doom. What feels so powerful about Pom Poko is that it doesn’t avoid these feelings. It doesn’t put up a happy face and then sucker punch you with an ending. It faces it head on from the very place of understanding that these are “poor raccoons on a journey of death.” But it’s about the way it affects all of them as they struggle. The way it tests their trusting naivety and capacity for bargaining. Heck, just five minutes into the film we see the old raccoons realize they need to seek out the old transformation masters, but when it comes time to volunteer? They all pretend to be asleep, then decide to send the young to find the masters, and then literally eat a garbage bag full of McDonalds. I’m hard pressed to think of a better metaphor for how the old who are in power behave.

Meanwhile, the young find their battles and attempt tricks of resistance. Of course, there are little moments that work, but you “can’t stop progress.” They’ll just keep throwing more humans and more money at the constant development. There’s just too many of them. It’s like trying to wrestle a hurricane. Since Gonta only knows how to face it with war (and there’s way more actual murder in this film that I was anticipating), naturally, he and his followers die in “glorious battle.” We see this image of them graciously going into the next life of a ship, but because Takahata is unafraid to make it plain, it then hard cuts to the pile of dead raccoons in their realistic form. It would be easy to say that the brutality of this is what gives the film its power - and what we want to shield our children (read: selves) from knowing, but Takahata understands it’s just one part of the complete story. Because the even more heartbreaking moment comes just  after, when one character who was sent off finally returns with no transformation masters to offer. You think to yourself, why do this plot? And you realize immediately: it is all for them to see how devastated the character is when he sees how much of their home is gone now. It had only been three years. How did it all go so quickly? What happened? And it allows the anger and sadness and tragedy of it all to hit so much harder.

But the most heartbreaking moment comes after. For when all hope is lost, they choose one last transformation: to recreate the image of their lost home in the space that remains. What will it accomplish? “Nothing, but it will be amusing.” I started just absolutely bawling. It’s not that they find joy even in absence. It’s that you understand the horrible, fleeting nature of it. All exemplified in the shot of them running quickly to their younger selves, all before the fantasy quickly cuts out. No, you can never be young again. And the point of this is that we can only mourn that which is lost. To evoke the popular insight into Kafka, “there is hope but not for us.” Which you feel when they say, “Humans will live comfortably at least.” Even if you want to keep the lessons of all this within the spectrum of humanity, you can pick any class / identity divisional metaphor you want. There are so many people who are the victims of institutional violence. And so many people who get to live without it impacting them (but that number continues to dwindle). But within all of this, Pom Poko offers this prescient little nugget about how this seed of “amusement” can be the very thing that triggers people into remembering the joy of having some green in their world.

*cue giant speech about environmentally-friendly urban planning*

Okay I won't do that, but go look at that corner of Tiktok because because I think it’s actually a great format for explaining a lot of it. But Takahata will just side-swipe it, because he is more interested in characterizing the emotional journey of those at the center of these urban transitions. For the Tanuki who make the ultimate sacrifice in “baring the unbearable” to live in a capitalist working world, he rightly marvels that “it’s amazing humans can survive like this,” and that “most of us are tired and want to go back to the forest.” I know that for all the progress, there is something inherently unsustainable about this push too. But it’s all leading up to that final moment of celebration, which may seem weirdly hopeful for this particular movie, almost to the point where we wonder if it’s a dream. But no, like so much, it’s not about hope, but remembering to take a moment for joy - and showing the horrible irony of this event taking place on an urban golf course. Because if you understand anything about resources and the amount of water golf courses require, it's a blight on urban environments like no other (I like golf, but it’s true). This is the best “green” they can find. And weirdly the most haunting thing, at least to me perhaps, is that their joy is so sincere. Probably because it’s a unbridled kind of joy I have trouble feeling anymore. It’s so easy to feel small and helpless. Which makes the character’s final run to join them so important. For it characterizes the ability to see yourself in the thing - and to see the thing within you. Because what the film really changes is that internal shift within. Maybe it’s just that we’re still in the year of Raccoonie, but sometimes the best thing a film can offer is mindfulness about the things we pass by everyday.

I will never look at a raccoon the same way again.

<3HULK