On par with Kikujiro and A Summer at Grandpa's; the latter ostensibly a live-action precursor to Hayao Miyazaki's animated childhood through a looking glass. In theory, if we were to discard the spiritual/fantastical omnipresence in My Neighbor Totoro, what's left is pretty much an anime redux of Hou Hsiao-hsien's 1984 film, which accounts for a young boy and his pre-school sister's summer at their grandparent's rural home during their mother's recovery from illness. What Miyazaki does with innate ease is to impart the same experience – a swathe of mischief, curiosity, self-discovery and responsibility – with that most child-intrinsic of things: imagination.

In our mind, there's not a shred of doubt here that the forestry spirits known simply as the "Totoros" are real in every conceivable sense. Yet, the soot creatures, the super-growing tree-beanstalk, the delirious Cat Bus: all heightened extensions of the girl's imaginary overdrive. Doped up on fresh country air, the fact that they're the only one's who can see the "neighbors" allows for the illusion of a "fairytale" – and the very notion of cinema itself – to fall right into place. Totoro is basically a guardian spirit variation on more globally traversed child-disciples like the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy – only anti-commercial and way cooler. He (it?) also exists on the same internal premise as Santa Claus: that as long as one "believes", there is "truth" (or a finite version of). "Belief" and "imagination" are actually interchangeable; applied to cinema, they translate simply as "escapism". And what escapism it is. A Summer at Grandpa's might be the definitive meditation on a universally-owned childhood, but Totoro is all that plus the intangibles. The sisterly-bond thing is also really quite relevant, and Satsuki and Mei sum it up best when they proclaim, "It was a dream!/But it wasn't a dream!". Profound, indeed.—Tim Wong

» Hayao Miyazaki | Japan | 1988