• My Neighbor Totoro

10/27/22 (Thurs), Barbican

You have to be brave to take on a piece as beloved as this 1988 film, one of the most famous of all Japanese anime. I wonder if the Japanese creators preferred a foreign production so as to avoid dealing with overheated domestic expectations. The Tokyo production of Spirited Away was spectacular but simply put the movie on stage (think Beauty and the Beast), and the question here is whether Totoro would take a more theatrical approach (think The Lion King).

The results were magical. The show again closely followed the film, focused on two young girls who move to a new home and meet mystical spirits in the woods. Director Phelim McDermott transformed the material without letting the stage effects, amazing as they were, overwhelm the story and characters. Numerous sets were wheeled fluidly on and off, and the various creatures were rendered in extraordinary puppetry by masked kurogo. Aside from the usual waving of poles with butterflies, stars and such (seen in Life of Pi and elsewhere), the puppeteers did stupendous work on the many non-human characters, including a cluster of chickens, the two furry forest creatures, and most memorably the colossal grinning Totoro, which was manipulated in various positions by multiple actors (including a fun scene when the girl is climbing over its prone sleeping body). The children waiting at the bus stop and subsequent arrival of the huge cat bus with its Cheshire grin, one of the most iconic scenes in anime, was handled with tremendous timing and skill, helped by great lighting effects.

As with Spirited, this was a drama with music rather than a true musical. The orchestra was visible throughout, set in an elevated treehouse-like structure in back. The occasional songs were rendered from there in non-subtitled Japanese by Ninomiya Ai, who usually followed with English versions. The story, concerned with our relation with the natural world, is already woke to some extent, but the creators thankfully stuck with the more subtle approach of the Japanese, resisting any overt moralizing. Simple Japanese phrases were interspersed in the dialogue (ohayo gozaimasu, oyasumi nasai and such) in an attempt to preserve a Japanese atmosphere, but the contents and emotions were universal.

The actors were of varied quality. Mei and Satsuki (which means the month of May – I never noticed the resemblance in the names), necessarily played by adults, adeptly avoided a cloying portrayal even when shouting or crying. The granny was also wonderful. The varied accents among the actors were irritating; the girls’ parents in particular don’t appear to have been native English speakers (they sounded Japanese), which affected their line readings for the worse. A pity.

The theme of the childlike acceptance of nature and inability of adults to retain that reminded me in a way of Mary Poppins, which fumbled that message in its stage version. This was done here without hammering us over the head with it. Excellent storytelling, a superb adaptation by the writer. Joe Hisaishi’s music, enhanced by him for the stage, was also extremely effective. Kids were screaming with delight throughout, but I think the show appeals to all ages – certainly to me. An object lesson in how to put anime on stage. A big thumbs up.