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Rating:
After a long absence from DeBaser, I decided to return. And to do it in grand style, by talking about one of the event films of 2017, nominated for the Oscars, but alas, not taking home the coveted golden statuette. The Red Turtle by Michaël Dudok de Wit is one of those films that the segment of the audience that only expects pure entertainment from the cinema would define as "a drag": a drag because the story is almost entirely devoid of action; a drag because they never speak; a drag because "animated films are for children."
The Red Turtle, however, is none of that. It is a silent and delicate poem, a philosophical treatise that thrives on allegories and elegant watercolor drawings. I don't want to talk about the plot, which I will only mention where necessary. Because the plot is secondary. What truly matters is de Wit's reflection on the human condition and his love-hate, or rather, hate-love relationship with nature. The first directing of a Studio Ghibli film entrusted to a non-Japanese (de Wit is Dutch), The Red Turtle is, in its first half, a sad and cruelly realistic depiction of humanity, described as a selfish entity willing to do anything to achieve its goal, even to the point of killing and harming nature. The protagonist is a man, a castaway, who becomes a representative of the human race, lost and frightened, powerless. The second half of the film, on the other hand, shows the way to escape from this abyss in which we all find ourselves: we must learn to coexist and love nature. Only a partially environmentalist message because it doesn't mean "let's save nature" (as was the case in other Studio Ghibli films, particularly those by Hayao Miyazaki, like Princess Mononoke) but "let's save ourselves by loving nature." When the castaway, after the death of the large red turtle that prevented his escape and its transformation into a girl, lives with the woman, and therefore with nature, he finds peace and serenity, which will also help him in the most dramatic situations. Earth does not belong to man, man belongs to Earth. Until we understand this, we will be destined for an existence that oppresses us and we will have to endure its torments without being able to resist with our heads held high, we will be, to use a metaphor of Leopardian memory, like that broom that on Vesuvius can do nothing but bow to the power of Nature and Life.
Talking about the purely technical aspect is somewhat an insult to the film's beauty but I think it is still necessary for the completeness of the review. From Studio Ghibli, we have been accustomed to a certain graphic and narrative style, typically Japanese. Before watching The Red Turtle, to get to know Michaël Dudok de Wit a bit better, I decided to have a look at his shorts (this is his first feature film) to better understand his style. Seeing that the two approaches were extremely different from each other, I feared that the director would adapt to that of the Studio. Instead, to my great joy and surprise, de Wit managed to impose his own art, creating an unmistakably Dewittian film: simple lines, watercolors, extreme elegance in the arrangement of the elements of the scene... this is a Studio Ghibli film only on paper because, besides the absolute delicacy and wonderful beauty, it doesn't have much to share with Ghibli's cinema.
I don't want to waste the word "masterpiece" unnecessarily but it's hard not to use it in relation to this true work of art. Let's do it this way: I won't say it but you, in your mind, act as if I did. Poetic, delicate, elegant, tender, and sweet are just some adjectives that perfectly fit The Red Turtle, yet they fail to be exhaustive. The Red Turtle is a gem destined to become a classic of animated cinema in a very short time. Truly, truly beautiful.
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