Long time readers may recall my girlfriend’s love for making things Totoro related – including my Valentines Day card and some Halloween pumpkins – and after a busy few months she finally got round to adding something new to the list. These Totoro cupcakes where made for a little friend of ours – a four year old fledgling Ghibli fanatic – who broke her arm right at the begining of the summer break. Look great don’t they? Trust me, they actually tasted even better. More pics after the jump.

With the English language release of Ponyo imminent, and his recent promotional and speaking visit to the US causing a stir, there’s no denying that there’s a buzz around Hayao Miyazaki at the moment. And it’s a buzz that’s not just getting the attention of anime fans, but also grabbing the interest of the wider mainstream media and audiences – something that is, arguably, long overdue. As such it’s either luck or great timing that Manga Entertainment have just released Panda! Go Panda! on DVD here in the UK, and while it’s been out in the US for several years, this was the first time I’d had a chance to sit down and watch this early chapter in Miyazaki-san’s career.

Made in 1972, to cash in on Japanese ‘Panda madness’ spawned by the arrival of some of the cuddly beasts from China for a breeding program, Panda! Go Panda! was actually directed by Ghibli co-founder and genius in his own right Isao Takahata (Only Yesterday, Grave of the Fireflies). Miyazaki wasn’t slacking on the project though; he wrote the script, designed the characters, drew the storyboards as well as doing some keyframe animation on the film. Script wise there’s nothing too exciting here; it’s a simple kids story about young girl Mimiko, who is living alone while her grandma is away, and lets two panda’s move into the house with her. Unsurprisingly, hilarity and chaos ensues. Like I said, nothing groundbreaking, but it was popular enough with the Japanese public – as pandas still were, presumably – to warrant a sequel a few months later. Both are on this disk, with a combined running time of about 75 minutes.

So the story might not be some of Miyazaki’s finest work, but the character designs – while also not his best – are undeniably his. Any fan catching just a glimpse of the two pandas will instantly see how they were a blueprint for the Totoros, and similarly Mimiko herself seems to be a precursor to the redheaded Mei of the same film. She also bears some similarities to Pippi Longstocking – a character that Miyazaki is reportedly a fan of, and who had unsucessfully tried to get the rights for just prior to making Panda! Go Panda!. But it is the similarities with Totoro that shine through – to see the Pandas smile, and to see Mimiko jump up and hug Poppa Panda will make Totoro fans grin with joy, and for them is probably reason enough to pick up the film. The quality of the animation throughout is pretty good, and although it lacks the sophistication of later Miyazaki and Takahata works like Future Boy Conan it’s still arguably better than a lot of the mass produced anime of that period. Plus it’s worth remembering what this is – not some undiscovered Ghibli classic, but an apparently hastily thrown together, opportunistic anime special meant to cash in on a passing fad. As such, the fact that it’s still as charming as it is to watch is yet more testament to the duo’s unique and lasting talents.

Manga Entertainment have put together a nice product with this disk – the packaging is bold and bright, with the reverse of the cover made up of a huge image of a grinning Poppa Panda, just in case you still hadn’t noticed the similarity with Totoro’s smile. Plus there’s a warning that it ‘contains one scene of smoking’, just in case you had forgotten this was a Miyazaki film. As for the contents themselves – well, the quality of the transfer is great, remarkable even for a film of it’s age. There’s both English and Japanese audio tracks, with the dub being of surprisingly good quality – even if Poppa Panda sounds strangely like Rainier Wolfcastle at times. The extras section is a little disappointing – the main thing of interest being the original Japanese title sequence, that apart from the text isn’t that different from the English version, to be honest. Apart from that there’s just a couple of those slighty pointless text only biographies – but really, expecting anything else for a for this old and obscure is perhaps a little unrealistic. Somehow I don’t think making interesting DVD extras was really top of Miyazaki and Takahata’s priorities back in 1972 as they struggled to get their early careers off the ground.

So should you pick this disk up? If you’re a hardcore Ghibli fanatic like myself, keen to see what these two geniuses where doing before they were famous then yes: Panda! Go Panda! is an unmissable purchase, especially as it can be picked up fairly cheaply. Similarly, if you’ve got young children that enjoy the likes of Totoro and Kiki’s Delivery Service, this offers you another – perhaps slightly less challenging – option for keeping them entertained. Just be warned that if they do take a liking to it, and insist on watching it over and over again, the theme tune (see below) may well drive you insane.

A couple of quick news updates for you: this Sunday (May 3rd) sees the annual Sci-Fi London Film Festival’s annual Anime All Nighter swing into action – highlights this year being a showing of the controversial Ghost in the Shell 2.0, and – most interestingly – a very rare screening of a little film from 1972 called Panda! Go, Panda!

And why is that interesting? Well, the film was written by Hayao Miyazaki, and directed by Isao Takahata – over a decade before the two friends would go on to create the legendary Studio Ghibli. It was made at the height of ‘Panda madness’ in Japan, when China had started lending the cuddly beasts to Japanese zoos so they could assist in breeding programs. The film is a real treat for Ghibli fans though, as both the pandas themselves and the films little red-haired protagonist were clearly the inspiration for Miyazaki’s subsequent character designs for the Totoros and Mei. If you’re in London and free on Sunday then get yourself down there – but hurry up and book some tickets, as they look like they’re selling out fast.

While we’re talking about the greatest animation studio in the world – I must remind you all to check out Daniel Thomas’ ever brilliant Ghibli Blog – Conversations on Ghibli. He’s been digging out some real treats recently – most notably this mind-blowing piece on a never-to-be-released home brew Porco Rosso game for the Nintendo DS. Looks amazing but will never see the light of day due to, amongst a million licensing problems, Miyazaki’s dislike of video games based on his creations. Never the less: do want.

Keep up the good work Dan.

Some of you may remember that I picked up several special treats on my visit to the Ghibli Museum in November. Chief among them was the Blu-ray of the Kazuo Oga Exhibition: Ghibli No Eshokunin – The One Who Painted Totoro’s Forest. It was something I’d been planning to grab ever since I knew I’d be visiting the museum, but it wasn’t until this weekend that I finally managed to sit down and watch it. If you’ve ever seen any of the major Ghibli releases, then you’re already familiar with Oga-san’s work and his lovingly hand painted backgrounds that have brought films such as My Neighbour Totoro and Princess Mononoke to life. Quite frankly he is the very best in the business – quite possibly the greatest animation background artist of all time – and this disc, in it’s very elegant and typically Ghibli way, shows you exactly why.

The first pleasant surprise when you slip it into your player is the amount of content on the disc. There are four main features, the first being a 70 minute documentary about Oga himself. Tracking his career from untrained beginnings and pre-Ghibli anime days to the present, it also offers fascinating behind the scenes glimpses into the pre-digital filming and composition production techniques the studio employs, and the effort and painstaking attention to detail they require. It also gives a lot of screen time to the always insightful Isao Takahata, as he talks with affection and respect about working with Oga on Only Yesterday and Pom Poko, but we see the as always reserved Miyazaki only in short clips of archive footage. As with all the features throughout the disk, there are superbly translated and written English subtitles – a gracious nod from Ghibli to it’s small but enthusiastic fan-base in the west – and the film succeeds in not only demonstrating Oga’s enormous talent but in putting a human face to the artist’s work.

The second feature, The charm behind Kazuo Oga’s background art, is a 40 minute documentary comprising mainly of other Ghibli staffers and a Japanese art historian talking of their love of his work, as well as some footage of the exhibition itself. But it’s the third feature that will be of perhaps the most interest to fans and fellow artists – Kazuo Oga’s Techniques is a recording of the man himself painting a complete work, from blank canvas to finished work. Six hours are subtly edited down into 20-odd minutes, and every second is a delight to watch. Essential viewing for all artists, it’s also a fascinating, hypnotic experience for anyone, Ghibli fan or not. From what I understand this is a different recording from the one on the DVD version, a time-lapse version of which is presented below.

Finally, but perhaps most impressively, is the still image gallery collection of all 600 pieces of artwork shown at the exhibition. Presented at Blu-ray resolution, this feature is just incredible, and personally justified the purchase of the disc on it’s own. The image quality is phenomenal, and being able to just sit and watch a high-res sideshow of all these works is mesmerising. I should also point out that the image quality throughout all the features is exceptional – unlike the extras on many BR discs there are no upscales here – everything seems to have been shot in HD, before being subtly and professionally edited. The whole package is a delight to watch, as relaxing and enthralling as it is intelligent and insightful. As the first true Ghibli BR release, it also gives a tantalising glimpse at what the studio can do with the format.

Although it may be a little expensive or tricky to track down, there is a hell of a lot to recommend about this disc. For Ghibli fans, artists and art students it’s essential viewing, and also a fascinating watch for even the most casual fan of animation fan painting. A fitting testament to the work of a truly great artist, and a reminder of the role he has played in making anime one of the most powerful art forms of the last 30 years.

Read more about the DVD and the exhibition over at Vong Yonghow (AKA Blauereiter)’s ever brilliant Halcyon Realms site.

I never tire of how my partner manages to make something Totoro related for special days, but I was particularly impressed when I she gave me this fantastic card this morning – so much so I had to share. Look at it. Awwww.

Have a great V-day, everyone.

As mentioned in an earlier post, we survived the melee of the Ghibli Museum shop, even if we were left more than a few thousand yen poorer by the experience…

First of our spoils is this beautifully printed Mei and the Kittenbus book. An essential purchase for us, especially as we were so lucky to catch the film, it’s a short but glossy leaflet style affair, featuring tons of great scenes telling the story of the short. It’s the only official way of seeing any images from the film outside the museum, and as far as I’m aware only available from the shop. Click the thumbnails below for more glimpses…

Next up (below) is a DVD/Blu-ray double pack of the documentary on the recent exhibition by Ghibli background artist Kazuo Oga. We missed the exhibition by a few months sadly, but having this on BR almost makes up for that. Full report when I’ve had time to watch it.

Similarly, I’ll post up more details about this DVD (below) about the museum itself. I’ve had a quick flick through some of it, and there’s lots of footage of the museum plus some pretty in-depth interviews. More soon.

Finally, my partner couldn’t resist this, and who can blame her. A solid glass Totoro paperweight. Beautifully crafted, and elegantly presented in some cool packaging, its now resident in our living room.

Oh, and lets not forget that Ghibli branded beer bottle we were so generously given…

Despite having been boringly safely back in the UK for over a month now, I’m still only just managing to mentally process everything we saw and experienced in Tokyo. A major highlight for us, in fact one of the main reasons for going in the first place, was our trip to the Studio Ghibli Museum in the suburb of Mitaka.

Anyone that’s read this site in any detail before has probably picked up on how much of a Ghibli fanatic I can be at times. My obsession is over a decade old now, first triggered when my then new girlfriend, on finding out I had an NTSC capable VCR, gave me a dusty old pirated VHS video of a film her grandparents had given to her on her last visit to Japan, at the age of eleven. She wanted to watch it again, as the only machine capable of playing it at her parents’ house had failed years ago, but I could sense a slight trepidation in her face as she handed it to me. It was a children’s film, she explained, and it might not be as good as she remembered.

The film was My Neighbour Totoro, and despite the lack of any English subtitles or dub and the poor quality of the recording, for 90 minutes we both sat transfixed and enchanted.

It’s pretty fair to say that up until that point, with the exceptions of the works of Oshii and Otomo, I’d pretty much given up on anime. After the success of Akira over here in the UK, we had been flooded with over-priced but poor quality VHS releases of Japanese TV and OVA shows. Largely misjudging what us new-born anime fans wanted, distributors bombarded us with anything that had a hint of sex, violence and a regurgitated cyberpunk vibe. Releases were given rushed, poor quality English dubs, with the scripts edited to include cursing not present in the originals, in order to force a 15 or even 18 classification and give the impression of ‘adult’ material. Rapidly many of us lost interest, seeing works like Akira and Ghost in the Shell as one off artistic triumphs.

But sitting, watching that Totoro tape for the first time, I realised how wrong we were. It was clear just minutes in that I was missing out on something very, very special, and over the next few years, now with the internet as my spiritual guide, I found myself consumed by a new obsession.

Eleven years later the story of that lovingly pirated tape came full circle, when the two of us found ourselves stood just a couple of miles from her grandparents’ house, at Mitaka station. After the first official shuttle bus filled with excitable children and their parents, we were too impatient to wait for a second, so instead decided to walk the kilometre to the museum instead, the charming, regularly spaced signs counting down the distance heightening our already gripping state of nervous anticipation.

If you search for information about the Ghibli Museum online, what you tend to find – even in personal reports from bloggers that have visited – seems to be pretty sparse on details. I’d originally intended to try and break this mold, and to give you a detailed tour of the museum, room-by-room, exhibit-by-exhibit. But it was clear after just a few minutes of being in the building that there are three very good reasons as to way that’s not only a nearly impossible task, but one that I just didn’t want to undertake. Firstly, it’s largely a visual experience, and with the no photography policy strictly enforced by the firm but smiling staff, it’s not one that easily translates to words. Similarly, the sheer scale of some of the material on display defies not only description, but at times also comprehension. And finally, and perhaps most importantly, I don’t want to spoil it for you. If you can, you need to go and see this yourself.

The building itself, partly buried in the grounds of Inokashira Park, feels compact from the exterior but surprisingly spacious once inside; the main atrium decorated to feel exactly like you’ve stepped onto the non-existent set of one of Miyazaki’s beautifully crafted, European feeling films. The highlight on the ground floor is the animation room, where the aim of the museum is the show with light-boxes, models and layered cells how the art and theory of animation work together. From the very start everything is very hands on; there are dials to turn and levers to pull, and images hide behind little doors and shutters that need to be opened.

The centrepiece of the room though is the huge ‘Bouncing Totoro’ zoetrope, where 3D models of characters from the film are brought to life through strobe lights as the huge exhibit rotates. It’s breathtaking to watch, and even if you could take photos, they obviously wouldn’t do it justice. Similarly, the ‘Rising Steam’ exhibit employs optical illusions to project a holographic image of birds flocking around the iconic robot soldier from Laputa: Castle in the Sky. Again, it needs to be seen first hand. Trust me.

Also on the ground floor is the entrance to the Saturn Theatre. As you enter the museum, you’re each given a ticket to one free showing of an exclusive Ghibli short in the Saturn – luckily you get to keep these tickets, as each one is made of a few sequential frames in film cell form from a Ghibli movie.

There are six shorts they show in rotation, none of which have ever been shown outside of the museum. To be honest, we would have been happy to have seen anything, but I can’t express how thrilled we were when we found out Mei and the Kittenbus was showing. The 20-minute short is a sequel of sorts to Totoro, re-uniting some of the original’s characters for the first and only time in nearly 20 years. Even putting aside how lucky we felt to have seen it – I have Japanese friends who have been there multiple times and have never glimpsed it – it’s a magical piece of animation, and without embarrassment I can honestly say that watching it together, sat like wide-eyed children on the steps of the overcrowded theatre, was a touching, emotional experience.

The next floor up is dedicated to temporary and permanent exhibitions – the highlight of the latter being a recreation of what is presumably meant to be Miyazki-san and Takahata-san’s studies, or at least versions of them told in true Ghibli-fantasy style. As you slowly walk around these small rooms, your breath is stolen once again by the treasures on display. Desks are covered with illustrations and notes, concept art and character designs, blueprints and technical drawings. I’m sure they must be printed copies, but the quality of them conspires with the setting to convince you of their hand-drawn authenticity, and many are simply attached to the wall by just a single drawing pin, all so close that you not only can but are encouraged to reach out and touch them. At the end of the display sits a huge wooden bookcase, filled leather bound books just encouraging you to take them down and flick through them, revealing themselves to be sketch pads full of the movies storyboards. Again, they must be fakes, but their quality again fools you into staring at the pencil strokes and dreaming they’re from the masters’ own hands, and wishing you had a few days to sit on the floor like a kid, absorbing them all. The whole exhibit was my personal highlight of the museum, and to any Ghibli or just true anime fan it’s worth the entrance fee on it’s own.

The top floor houses the Catbus room, with a huge plush recreation of the feline transport that sadly only small children are allowed to climb all over. At the other end of the floor is the ‘Mama Aiuto’ museum shop, officially the most chaotic place in Tokyo. Forget Shinjuku JR at 5pm, nothing in Japan is as terrifying and noisy as a shop full of Ghibli loving kids and their parents in full consumer frenzy. I didn’t see any blood spill, but believe me my friends, I saw images of tears being shed and tantrums being thrown that I will carry with me to the grave. We got out alive, but with our wallets considerably lighter, and our bags heavy with books, DVDs, Blu-rays and ornaments, the details of which I will post up here in time.

The roof garden houses the now famous life-size statue of aforementioned robot soldier from Laputa, and is one of the few places where you can take photo. I got some pretty good shots, but again I have to say that the only way to really appreciate the intricacy and craftsmanship is firsthand. Also up here is the small open-air café, that sells some pretty good hotdogs and homemade soup, as well as a Museum branded beer – it was too early for drinking for me, but yet again the kindness of the Japanese revealed itself when a woman on a neighbouring table offered us an empty bottle to take home.

Anyway, I’m going to cut this short before I start gushing even more. The place is simply amazing. It sets out to, and easily achieves, the aim of the best Ghibli movies; to create a world for children that is so intricate, charming and believable that it sucks in adults as well and fills them with youthful fascination again. Go there.

You could be forgiven, on first arriving at Asakusa on the Ginza subway line, that you’ve descended into Japanese tourist-trap hell. And to some extent you’d be right; it certainly seems to be the most touristy place I visited in Tokyo at least – as soon as you pass under the impressive Kaminari-mon (“Thunder Gate”) you’re greeted by a line of literally dozens of stalls selling everything from woodblock prints to Gundam model kits. Further down though, towards the Senso-ji temple, they give way to more traditional craft stalls, with giving you a unique chance to see artists in action. The Temple at Dembo-in, where Japan’s two leading religions Buddism and Shinto meet, and it’s surrounding gardens and pogodas are breathtaking, and a welcome break from the initial chaos.

One thing you must do if you ever make it to Asakusa is make sure you’re at the crossing near the Tourist Information Centre on the hour, as the clock there bursts into an amazing, and typically Japanese, animatronic display every time the minute hand hits 12.

Also, just opposite here on the corner, is a tiny shop that just sells yet more Ghibli stuff. Worth a quick peek round, despite the prices and the moody mama-san that runs it.

• Click here for more images of Asakusa Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3

Kiddy Land is a pretty mainstream toy shop, and wouldn’t normally warrent a mention here – except that this is Tokyo, and mainstream means something completely different. Spanning five floors, of most interest are the anime and Ghibli sections. While the former caters for more kodomo and shonen level stuff, the latter is worth checking just for it’s huge selection and the over sized plush Totoro (pictured above) that sits as it’s centerpiece. Yours for just 676 quid. Worth a mention too are the hugely helpful (like everywhere so far in Tokyo) and mainly bilingual staff. Worth a visit, for sure.

• Click here for more images of Kiddy Land

Halloween isn’t that big a deal in the UK – many people here see it as a bit too commercialized and American – I know people that view trick and treating as begging, or even pretend to be out when people come knocking. Miserable bastards. Me, I kind of like it – especially scaring the living fucking shit out of the neighbourhood kiddies.

So I was kind of excited this week when my much better half announced she wanted to carve a pumpkin for the first time – and being our household it didn’t take long to decide on what exactly she was going to carve. So a Happy Totoro Halloween to all of you, and enjoy the pictures (+_-)