The Filmgoer's Diary 2018/19

WEATHERING WITH YOU I 2019 I Spoiler Discussion: The Power of Shinkai

*SERIOUS SPOILERS AHEAD*

I've always had an embarrassing relationship with the films of Makoto Shinkai. The first film I've seen from him was Your Name: his most successful movie to date. Unlike most of my favorite directors, I got into Shinkai when he was at his absolute peak. After watching Your Name, I traced his filmography. I discovered the gem that is Garden of Words – which I still profess is his greatest piece to date.

It continues to astonish me that Shinkai is one of my favorite directors. His films are sappy anime, full of cheesy narration sometimes punctuated by dramatic screams. He is not a subtle guy. He employs the over-exaggeration of anime. He directs the end of his movie as if they're music videos (this remains my only criticism of Weathering with You).

I wasn't supposed to love Shinkai's work. It's just not my thing. And yet, to this day, I cannot deny the fact that Your Name is my favorite movie of 2016, solely because it makes me FEEL so many things. If anything could make me forget Shinkai's flaw, it is his ability to command pure emotions.

Nowhere is this clearer that in one particular scene in Weathering. In the scene, Hani – the female character who is called the sunshine girl because of her ability to pray away rain – is in a hotel room with Hodaka – a boy who runs away from home to Tokyo, apparently after reading Catcher in the Rye. Rain is pouring outside. Hani had used her prayers too many times and heaven has commanded massive downpour and crazy weather upon Tokyo. Hodaka, Hani and the latter's brother took refuge in a hotel room. They had spent the night singing karaoke, eating delicious food – having the best time of their lives. Hodaka's narration tells us he wants them to live together like this, forever.

After her brother went to sleep, Hodaka decided to give Hani a gift. Hani gleefully accepts. And in a drastic shift in tone only Shinkai could've done so masterfully, Hani proceeded to tell Hodaka that only if she sacrifices herself will heaven return normal weather to Tokyo. To illustrate her point, Hani took off her tops to reveal a body that is going transparent. Hani is slowly disappearing. She accepts her fate and even offers to sacrifice herself to speed up the return to normalcy.  What was for Hodaka a glimpse into the future, had been the Hani enjoying her last moment in the human world. This scene achieved the same sense of melancholic despair that was felt at the end of Ghibli's The Tale of Princess Kaguya.

At his peak, Shinkai uses has a style similar to Studio Ghibli's. Emotion is at the core of the story. 

Hodaka bursts into tears; Hani is still smiling in somber. She then teases Hodaka about how he glances at her body. Hodaka denies, still tearful; Hani giggles, still somber. We then cut to the younger brother, sleeping, clueless.

I wanted to describe this scene in full because it so encompasses what I truly love about Shinkai. He will pack so much emotion in each and every scene he directs. Just from that moment, the audience is receiving sensations of sadness, hope, admiration and humor. As Shinkai jumps between these pure evocations, what we receive is a kind of giddy feeling of warmth.

Or maybe that's just me. I've heard people describe Shinkai as a derivative director. Someone who only does movies about star-cross lovers with some kind of supernatural plotline to it. His directs scenes like one would a music video. His characters appear to have depths when really they are blueprints of one another.

In a way, all of those things are true. I can't say that the two main characters of this film don't remind me of the two from Your Name. The comedic side characters are much more memorable in this film however. But that doesn't add a great deal to the central plotline which is extremely predictable.

So what do I do now? What do I do when I find myself enjoying the film that I can't really fully praise? Back when I saw Your Name, my response was to give it the number one spot. And it still remains there. Somehow, with all its flaw, I remember that movie by its emotional imprint. I remember it less as a film and more as an experience.

We can never really judge movies by their objective quality. And there's a real argument to be made that quality cannot be objective. The reason I find myself enjoying films is due to a combination of a director's ability to command his audience, to convey message, to evoke a certain emotional impact. To me, Shinkai is like a magician who grabs my attention from the very first shot. The first ring of the narrator...

Rain drops and skyscrapers; layers upon layers of clouds; people crisscrossing with street signs and our two main characters running through all these scenarios. The ring of a gun. The exasperated scream. Everything goes quiet as if a musical beat. Each moment meticulously crafted to create emotional impact. The scenario so well designed and drawn to draw the audience into the world that the characters live.

It's his quality as an artist, his devotion to the craft that makes me love Shinkai. I've heard the man rebuffed the claims that he is the next Miyazaki. Whatever argument there is to discredit similarities between the two – and there are many – I don't think people who draw a comparison is talking about art styles, storytelling or even writing. Like Miyazaki, Shinkai has the same power to use art to influence emotion. His style is much more in-your-face than Miyazaki of course, but the effect is rather similar.

Like Your Name, Weathering with You give me an emotional roller coaster. Scenes of glee would be followed by scenes of dread. The sequence where the young characters stay in the hotel room together has the same laid-back feel as a Miyazaki film does. And like Miyazaki, Shinkai makes this moment an important one. Sometimes, you find Hollywood films skimming past moments that act as mechanical gears to give the film a more agreeable pacing. In Age of Ultron, Joss Whedon made the cabin scene so important, it shocked everyone. How surprising that this filmmaker inserts, right in the middle of an action-packed blockbuster, a scene where people just talk. And he makes the scene count. He stays there. Allows the character to breath. It was a shock for mainstream viewer. But for Shinkai, a blockbuster should focus on emotions, on characters on relationships.

This dedication to just letting pure emotions take the reign is what makes each of his film so impactful, derivative as they may be. I walked out of Weathering with an emotional hangover. That's what I want in a film. To be intoxicated with the ultimate happy and the supreme sad. To be so lost in the moment that walking out of the cinema feels like the reentering of a different world.