Totoro in Uncertain Times
“Everybody try laughing, then whatever scares you will go away” - Tatsuo Kusakabe (‘My Neighbor Totoro’)
Not long ago, I travelled to London for a job interview. During the hours and days leading up to the interview I racked my brains going over all of the possible things that could go wrong during the ordeal. Ruminating. Overthinking. In a world where it has become increasingly hard to find work, secure a job, pay the bills and stay afloat, I was drowning in my very own fictional problems. My mind didn’t know when to stop and stress took over my whole body. I began to feel ill. When I finally stepped out of those office doors I breathed in and out with a newfound sense of relief. I started back down the street and my thoughts went straight to the art of cinema.
“I wonder if there’s somewhere around here showing Sorry We Missed You”, I said to myself (in my head, of course).
I know, the work of Ken Loach probably wouldn’t be most people’s first choice for a relaxing post-interview de-stresser. But I’m a big fan, I dunno.
There was an Odeon cinema not far from where I was and I had a look at the information board on the wall outside. £18 a ticket. Indignant at this extortionate price to pay for the privilege of watching a Ken Loach film — and not entirely oblivious to the irony of the situation — I strode on. Walking was doing me good but I was looking for something more engaging (and less pricey).
By now my throat was starting to itch uncomfortably, announcing the beginning of mild sickness. I resolved to ignore it. I spotted a bookshop by Trafalgar Square and wandered in. Entering what felt like a sanctuary of tales to read by the fire and endless knowledge to quietly digest on winter evenings I sauntered in. I happened on the bestseller section first. The Secret Life of Trees, The Art of Not Giving A F***, Normal People. And then the cookbooks. Ah the cookbooks! Recipes. Ingredients listed with care and precision. Dishes to prepare with equal measures of love and meaningfulness. I advanced further and discovered one more section, then another, and another.
I took my time to pore through the titles and admire the covers. I took mental notes of the most interesting areas on the bookshop’s two floors so I could revisit those areas later. I studied the shelves, examined their contents, scouring the place with my hands and with my eyes until I began to feel a heavy tiredness in them.
Back at home that night, after unwinding at the bookshop, my body decided that enough was enough. In the run up to the interview I’d taken my mind to the limit by stressing out too much about a job I would, ultimately, never get. My physical health became tangled up in all the stress and I got slightly ill. This gave me the excuse to tell myself to loosen up and take it easy during the next few days. So I indulged.
I immersed myself in art. Films, series, books. And I learnt two important things:
1. Solo movie nights and tubs of ice cream go well together
2. My Neighbor Totoro is one hell of a feelgood film
Yes, this is when I watched Hayao Miyazaki’s most iconic animated feature film for the first time in my life. I’d had it on my list for a while but I’d never really got around to watching it. And wow, this was the right time. Step aside Ken Loach.
There is something very soothing about My Neighbor Totoro. It is comforting like chicken soup.
When I pressed play I wasn’t exactly sure who the target audience for this film was. The figure of Totoro and his fluffy appearance hold a special place in the hearts of many people who grew up with the film. After googling Totoro you’d quickly come to the conclusion that it’s a children’s movie. But adults can enjoy it too. Although it wasn’t ever part of my childhood (I arrived a couple of decades late to the party), My Neighbor Totoro reaches inside and yanks at your heartstrings revealing the little kid you have inside. It reminds you about the power of imagination and it shows you how important it is to have a chuckle every now and then. Every time things get dark and frightening for the characters in the story, a Totoro shows up making a cute gesture or boasting a silly grin.
And isn’t that something we all need right now? Surely it’s something we need more than ever. Just have a look at the news. It’s taking a toll on most of us in one way or another. People who aren’t directly affected by Covid have been feeling the consequences of confinement and social isolation. Our mental health is suffering. And to confront these very real and pressing issues we need Totoro. To deal with these realities we need a healthy dose of escapism.
Temporary escapism can be a tool, but it is also an end in itself. Art, entertainment, fun, games and storytelling are all wonderful age-old traditions that define what it means to be human. They are part of who we are and they are what keeps us going. A lot of the time they are, ultimately, what we live for. Life would be boring if we didn’t have any of these things.
As for escapism, we need fiction to distract us from real life before we can return to carrying our loads. Most of us need fictional universes and fantasies to retreat to temporarily. Whether it’s the plots of realist movies as an alternative to our own reality, the fantastical worlds of science fiction where all is possible, or anything in between, we need art to engage with.
Sometimes we’re told that there are only two different outlooks on life: you either face the facts or you bury your head in the sand. But couldn’t this actually be a bit of a false dichotomy? These temporary distractions are more than just distractions. They can be used as healthy coping mechanisms that enrich our minds, nurture our creativity, help us solve problems… They make life liveable during our hardships and they invigorate our spirits with creative thinking and resilience. After escaping to films like My Neighbor Totoro, our minds thank us for taking time off from real problems for a while. We go back to them with a new and fresh regard.
There must be some science behind why watching My Neighbor Totoro feels like chicken soup. I’m not sure exactly how they do it but Hayao Miyazaki’s animation and Joe Hisaishi’s music combine to make something that feels like home. They know how to, momentarily, take us away from our own great adventures and plunge us headfirst into a comforting fictional world that we can relate to.
In the film itself, Mei, Satsuki and their parents face an uncertain journey on their path towards the Great Unknown. The mother of the two girls falls ill, while the young siblings and their father start anew in the countryside. Mei and Satsuki embark on their own little escapades in the forest by their new house. They create adventures of their own like only children know how to do. It is at times when the two sisters feel scared that the Totoros (spirits of the forest) show themselves in order to render life more manageable.
In the end, whether the Totoros are real or not is irrelevant, because even fictional Totoros help us deal with our worries and the setbacks we encounter. In other words, the funny and silly Totoros serve the same purpose for the girls as the movie itself does for its viewers.
In these trying times we need Totoro as a film but also as a character. We need Totoro as a comforting presence that pacifies and relieves those he befriends by taking the edge off of scary situations. Just like Mei and Satsuki, in the face of disease, despair and loneliness we need Totoro by our side to hold onto and help us along the way.
