Fit for a King

This past Sunday was a sad day for television, though many may not realize it yet. While watching the final episode of "King of the Hill," I reflected on my love for the show. The love I didn't acknowledge until just before discovering it would be taken off the air. Mike Judge has become one of my favorite comedic minds, largely due to "King of the Hill." "King of the Hill" showcases some of the greatest characters around. From the over-the-top paranoia of Dale Gribble to Hank Hill's shudder there is so much to love about these characters.

"King of the Hill" may not supply the gut-busting laughs of say "The Simpsons" or "South Park," but its characters always keep it interesting. The final episode supplied such a fitting conclusion for two of those characters: Hank and Bobby. The finale did not go for the touching moments of the "Buckley's Angel" episode, but it was so satisfying. After struggling to relate with each other for 12 seasons, the father and son finally find something to enjoy together. And it's believable and utterly staisfying.

A Performer's Product

It's now been a few months now since the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has announced that the "Best Picture" category of the Oscars will be expanded to 10 nominees in hopes to honor a more diverse collection of pictures. This comes just in time as this year has showcased some great Sci-Fi epics (Star Trek) and animated wonders (Up, Ponyo) that will hopefully receive the respect they deserve.

But there is still one issue that I take with the Academy Awards. The Academy seems to be favoring performances depicting real people in biopics. In the past five years, two of the Best Actress in a Leading Role winners (June Carter, Queen Elizabeth II) and four from Best Actor in a Leading Role (Ray Charles, Truman Capote, Idi Amin, Harvey Milk) have been playing real people. Not that there is no merit in those performances. Indeed actors can show off their range by playing different people very well, but I think we are forgetting the art of creating a character. Actors are artists and can most powerfully show their skill by turning what was only ink on paper into a living person that we care about.

I will begin by saying that I have not seen the film Milk so I cannot argue that Sean Penn did not deserve the Oscar for his performance. But I can push for performances like the one Richard Jenkins delivered in The Visitor. I was very glad that the Academy nominated him for a performance that could have easily been overlooked. But the reason that it could have been overlooked was because of its simplicity. It was not flashy. It did not call much attention to itself. But it may have been the most human performance I have ever seen. It is strange to think that Walter Vale is only a character and does not really exist in this world. Jenkins so completely created a person and for that he deserves an ovation.

It is so hard to label a performance "best" when they are all so different. Sometimes there is a clear-cut winner, but more often the level of excellence among the nominees prompts a vote of preference and not superiority. I simply hope that as we see (hopefully) more diversity in the Best Picture category we will see more diversity in the nominations and winners of the performance categories as well.

Ponyo

A small number of musicians are able to create a sound that allows an audience to identify them by it almost instantaneously. An even smaller number of filmmakers are able to do so with their work. Hayao Miyazaki is one of those filmmakers. And it is not just the stunning animation that makes a Miyazaki film so identifiable.

"Ponyo," Miyazaki's latest film, feels very similar to his "My Nieghbor Totoro." Both embody youth and playfulness, but run at a very steady, controlled pace. The pace in "Ponyo" doesn't maintain the hypnotic gait of "My Neighbor Totoro" and drags at times, but remains very watchable. But what makes a film like "Ponyo," which features very little action and next to no conflict, so watchable? There is a very elusive, yet tangible, quality that exists throughout Miyzaki's films and can be traced back to the world in which they take place. It is a world Miyazaki seems to visit and revisit so often in his films: a world where people care for one another, where adults trust children, and where love makes anything possible. The attraction to Miyazaki films is rooted in the human desire to belong to such a world.

In "Ponyo," this world takes the shape of a small town on the sea. Miyazaki juxtaposes the majestic depths of the sea with the underwater wasteland that the shallows near the shore have become due to human refuse. This serves as a visual example of just how far humanity is from the magical world Miyazaki creates. But there may be hope for us yet... A young boy named Sosuke rescues a goldfish that is trapped in a piece of garbage. He names the goldfish Ponyo and the two become friends. The friendship comes to a halt when Ponyo's father, a wizard who lives under the sea, retrieves Ponyo from land to bring her home. Driven by her love for Sosuke, Ponyo becomes human and returns to land searching for him.

If the story sounds familiar, it is because it was inspired by Hans Christian Andersen's "Little Mermaid." Miyazaki breathes new life into the tale with some of his most beautiful animation and tender moments to date. Really. This film is moving. Miyazaki's ability to capture the gentle power of love is something to behold. In "Ponyo," love's ability to cause miracles is fully realized. The story is, thematically and literally, about love's ability to change the world.

"Ponyo" is not the most exciting film, but it is one you cannot miss. It is also one that you cannot see just once. Once you have a taste of the magical world of Miyazaki, you will want to return again and again and again. But with every one of Miyazaki's triumphant stories he seems to be urging the audience "This doesn't have to be a place we merely visit. This can be a place we can exist if we trust in love."