Have you ever had the feeling of displaced childhood memories? Like you’re trying to remember something special, something precious, but you just can’t put your finger on it?
When people look back at Studio Ghibli they often cite Howl’s Moving Castle, My Neighbor Totoro, Spirited Away, and Princess Mononoke as the company’s best movies. Especially Totoro. It is their logo after all, prevalent in almost every page of the Studio Ghibli website.
Porco Rosso is set in 1929 in Italy, amidst a new fascist regime. The main protagonist Porco, who is voiced by Michael Keaton in the English dub, is a man cursed with a pig’s head, who spends his days defending the seas from airborne pirates. Really taking the term “when pigs fly” to a new level. Porco suddenly finds himself on a path of rediscovery.
The movie is on par with Ghibli’s best hits yet somehow it has been relegated into a different part of people’s memory or outright forgotten. Some people say it doesn’t have the same magical quality as those movies due to being more “grounded”. I say Porco Rosso has aged incredibly well. Kind of like the wine he enjoys.
Let’s start with the animation, which is excellent. Whether it is something subtle as a boat drifting off in the distance, or something more intense like a shed being ripped apart by the force of an engine. The constant motion, especially during the movie’s more frantic scenes, really manages to give life to the world. Whenever there’s multiple characters interacting their movements feel coordinated yet natural, sometimes with an almost dance-like rhythm. In that regard, Porco Rosso takes full advantage of the medium.
Next is world detail. I personally believe that Porco Rosso is a good example of “every frame a painting;” literally, since it is cel animation, and figuratively. The world of Porco Rosso has been brought to life by background artist and art director Kazuo Oga. Besides working with Studio Ghibli, Oga has done work on other popular anime, like InuYasha, Ninja Scroll and Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust. Since this is a story about an anthropomorphic pig operating a seaplane, there’s going to be a lot of aerial shots. Azure seas glistening in the sunlight, ivory coasts and islets dotted with healthy emerald. It still carries that Studio Ghibli rule of making locations feel real and tranquil, the Ghibli magic as people call it. Places you want to visit to lose all your worries.
Urban areas are period appropriate, although some liberties have been taken to avoid the setting being too much of a reflection of fascist era Italy. To not dampen the mood too much. Liberty style architecture in the heart of Milan, seaside buildings made from limestone, cobblestone streets, and Ford-era automobiles ground the narrative and help create a unique sense of place. The plane designs are also quite charming, combining appropriate colors and accents. There’s a “childhood memory” vibe with the urban environments, almost like its something your great-grandparents would describe to you.
Besides expertly crafted visuals, the mood is further augmented by the score. Composed by Joe Hisaishi, another Studio Ghibli veteran, the soundtrack varies from whimsical orchestra to somber blues. There’s a liberal use of piano for some of the movie’s more tender scenes. It manages to create this feeling of longing, the feeling reserved for lost loves and friends, and simpler times. The music is not only there to create mood but also to reflect Porco’s internal conflict.
The cast is colorful, bearing their own little quirks such as the pirates’ love for goggles and antics, Gina’s refined nature or Fio’s unparalleled optimism. Though the setting is rather tense, being fascist era Italy and the wounds of the first war not yet healed, there’s a good sprinkling of humor and optimism. The movie is telling the audience that hardship is natural and that moving forward is the best thing you can do. Again, standard Ghibli routine. It is with Porco where the rules begin to bend.
Existentialism, finding who you really are, is woven into many of Studio Ghibli’s works. Yet Porco is the literal embodiment of this struggle. His transformation to a pig is not only a rejection of his humanity and a symbol of his shame, but also the embodiment of the sentiments he has about the war — crude, unsightly and wrong. He starts off having seemingly accepted his condition as a manifestation of his disillusionment, suppressing it further with good wine, women, and danger. He might not be physically imposing but his dialogue and mannerisms give the impression of a man who has done a lot of soul searching. He constantly alludes how he’s nothing like humans yet throughout the movie he shows glimpses of humanity. Whether by saving a group of children or simply laughing heartily.
Porco follows the hero’s journey template to an extent. It is always subtle and leaves the audience to come up with their own conclusions. It is pleasant when a movie respects the audience’s commitment and avoids going the Disney route with black and white archetypes and everything spelled out. It’s not objectively wrong to have clear archetypes and clear cut details, it’s just that the nuanced approach is much better appreciated. While western animation at the time focused on this fairy-tale sense of wonder, Porco Rosso opted for something more human, more subtle. Maybe it is this subtlety that has it buried among other memories.
In short, the elements in Porco Rosso are amazing. It was a hit when it released in 1992 and it is still worth watching to this day. A heartfelt story about finding who you really are.
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