Words by Curmudgeon Film Talk There’s this scene in Porco Rosso (1992) wherein the protagonist, Marco, dines in solitude with his childhood friend, Gina. She relays a recently-acquired anecdote: a boisterous yet conceited seaplane pilot named Curtis - whom she’d just met - asked to marry her. “I’ve married three pilots,” she tells him, “one died in the war, one in the Atlantic, and the third in Asia.” I recall, upon watching Porco Rosso for the first time, this line irked me. “Here are two people who’ve been friends for many years. Why would she tell him this? Surely, he would already know,” I thought to myself. An excuse for exposition, I imagined. My criticism came too soon, though. As Marco hesitates, his face gone blank, it becomes clear – in the most indirect manner possible, Gina discloses her husband’s death. The solemn words follow: “they found him?” Their subdued manner keeps them composed. And yet, something in director Hayao Miyazaki’s detailed ey...
Comments
Post a Comment