On November 28, 2014, the first trailer for Star Wars: The Force Awakens dropped, and the internet went wild. It was Disney’s first outing with their newly acquired franchise, and from the very beginning, it was all about the nostalgia. The teaser opens on black, slowly fading into a sea of dunes, while an old, grating voice intones, “There has been an awakening. Have you felt it?” The desert setting is like Tattoine, immediately placing us in a familiar context, while the voiceover gives a sense of importance and mystery. Suddenly, a stormtrooper pops into frame, accompanied by a blast of music. Ah, yes, we know stormtroopers. But this one isn’t wearing his helmet and he is black, something new and progressive for Star Wars. Cut to black. The next clip is of BB-8, a rolling droid, again bringing us a familiar element with a new twist. This is the format the rest of the teaser follows, introducing us to something quintessentially Star Wars, but in a revised sort of way, like grimy stormtroopers, or Rey on a speeder reminiscent of but distinct from Luke’s. There is an X-wing pilot, but the X-wings are flying over water, not in space, and a dark, robed figure, whose red lightsaber has *gasp* crossguards! Each small glimpse of the film is separated by a moment of black, emphasizing the importance of each little tidbit they allow us to see. And then there is the final shot of the teaser trailer, the Millenium Falcon swooping low over the desert, accompanied by the Star Wars fanfare in all its glory. 

It’s staggering how effective this is, elevating a film we haven’t seen to mythical heights, while making nerds everywhere cry with happiness. It is impressive too, how economical it is, making sure to give the audience a look at all the new main characters, while cloaking them in nostalgia. Ideologically, there isn’t too much to parse out, which is understandable, since Star Wars is generally pretty neutral territory (or at least it was) and it is only a minute and thirty seconds long. However, the inclusion of a black stormtrooper was and is a big deal, and hints at the more diverse casting choices the new trilogy would make. Disney realized that people were looking for a Star Wars that reflected how society has grown since the original trilogy, but that they also wanted something comforting and familiar. Of course, their desire to please the fans in nostalgic ways could be said to have turned into a weakness, depending on what you think of The Rise of Skywalker, but I would argue that it was used to great effect in their marketing of The Force Awakens.

One of the more troubling cliches is in how sexual assault is dealt with, especially in shounen anime. Multiple shows, like Naruto or Gurren Lagann, feature a hot springs episode where the characters stop at a hot springs, or some sort of spa, where one of the male characters will, without fail, try to spy on the female characters bathing, only to be punched/foiled in their plans by one of the girls, to comedic effect. Although this kind of episode is a cliche in itself, this sort of behavior, of one of the guys being incredibly inappropriate and being smartly dealt with, happens all the time (characters who make a habit of these things are affectionately called”pervy”). What becomes so frustrating about this sort of writing is that the male characters are never held accountable for their actions or asked to change, and in fact the behavior is often framed as relatable to the audience (who are assumedly male). That they are punished by a “strong” woman serves to act as a veneer of punishment, while it is assumed that this is the status quo: that men are always going to try shit and women just always need to be on their guard. While situations like this can be funny the first time, they now just feel antiquated, and honestly kind of sinister.

A larger thread behind this sort of writing is of male creators writing for a presumed male audience (at least for the shounen sort) which can be seen as . As shounen is not a genre, but rather a description of shows aimed at boys fifteen years old and younger, much of the narrative and visual choices can be understood better through this lens. For example, the hyper-sexualized designs of the majority of female characters. A trend that has also been noticed in superhero comic books, anime can put its female characters into some incredibly revealing outfits, for really no reason other than… guys find it sexy? Of course not all shows are like this, and not all female characters are portrayed this way, but there is clearly observable trend of female characters being sexually objectified, both within the story and by the audience. Sometimes the design is excused/motivated by a capable, kick-ass character like Yoko from Gurren Lagann, or Fey from Cowboy Bebop, both of whom wear very revealing outfits. In this instance, Fey’s character design is slightly more motivated by her use of her sexuality as a femme fatale type, but even then she is far more objectified by use of framing and “camera” movement than her male counterparts. Even when the design is somewhat explained by the plot, the continued prevalence of objectified female characters can be very off-putting, especially for non-male viewers, who generally are looking for someone to identify with instead of lust after.

Thinking back on it, a lot of that has to do with age; as I’ve gotten older my threshold for fear has gotten higher, and even at their most horrifying, movies scare me in a different way now (not that I really seek out horror movies). Looking back on The Shining with a critical perspective it amazes me how different it is from most modern horror in its construction and execution. It terrified me with atmosphere, with a barely palpable, but steadily rising tension. The moment where I couldn’t take it any more is just as things reach their breaking point and actual murder is attempted, but what is truly fear-inducing is the build-up to that moment, which director Stanley Kubrick handles masterfully. A great number of things contribute to this feeling of unease, from Jack Nicholson’s performance, to the score, to the isolated location, to the ghost encounters, to the story of a previous caretaker that basically promises the audience that this man is going to try and murder his family. We just have to sit around and wait for it to happen.

Chihiro’s journey is a coming-of-age story, as so many other fairy tales are. Director Hayao Miyazaki said in an interview that he wanted to create an adventure for the young girls he knew, and felt that many of the sorts of stories that were aimed at them weren’t representative of their personalities and desires. So at the heart of the story we have a young girl who must grow up, and will do so by the end of the film, though of course, in suitable Miyazaki fashion, that will include a formidable witch who rules a bathhouse, a river spirit, three bouncing heads, a boy who can transform into a dragon, and other fantastical sights.

After her parents have been turned into pigs by the aforementioned witch, Yubaba, Chihiro must sign a contract and work in her bathhouse. Stripped of its fairy tale embellishments, the idea of losing parental protection and then entering the workforce becomes a very relatable obstacle to turning into an adult. And to a young person struggling to find work in the vast, intimidating workforce, a bathhouse full of odd, sometimes menacing, spirits can be an apt, if fanciful comparison. The bathhouse, itself a place of danger and excitement, contains another sort of vice: greed. Nearly everyone who comes in contact with, or lives within its walls, is demonstrably greedy in some way. Yubaba is shown to be obsessed with wealth, from the decadence of her furnishings to the way she considers everything and everything around her in terms of financial loss and gain. Haku, the dragon-boy, is described as a, “greedy, little thief,” and gets into trouble for stealing items of considerable value for Yubaba. The No Face spirit, upon entering the bathhouse, tries to win the affection and respect of those around him by making gold, but only succeeds in being turned into a monster by the relentless greed of its inhabitants. Lin and the other employees who work there, are infatuated with the gold, and feed No Face’s worst impulses for their own gain. The only character who remains untouched by greed is Chihiro. For though she has entered the workforce, she does not fall prey to its obsession with money and material wealth. From this we can posit that, although these are necessary steps towards adulthood, there are pitfalls that must be avoided as well.

Although the theme of greed runs throughout the film as a negative, it is memory that saves the day. This puzzled me for a while, because the movie seems to always be progressing further into maturity and makes multiple allusions to the inevitability and irreversibility of time (one of which being the train that only rides in one direction). But it is memory that finally allows Chihiro to give Haku back his name, thus freeing him, and saves her parents from being turned into bacon. That the heroine perseveres and succeeds due to her remembrance of the past, though seeming arbitrary at first, is in fact ingrained into the coming-of-age narrative, or at least Miyazaki’s version of it. Instead of the more straightforward idea that childish things must be put away in order for one to be an adult (a la Peter Pan), this film engages in the more complicated notion that to forget who you were is just as bad as to never grow up at all. Indeed, to forget completely will entrap you just as surely, like Haku, who is powerless to control his fate without the knowledge of who he was. 

And so it is that when Chihiro and Haku return to the bathhouse at the end of the film, it seems smaller, diminished, no longer as threatening as it once did, like a place that appeared bigger as a child.

Hello, my name is Lauren Swintek, and yes, I do like the sound of my own voice. I am currently a student at Whittier College, where I am constructing a major that explores film, creative writing, and visual art. Art has always been a part of my life whether it was in the form of my father’s career as a photographer or the clumsy drawings and matching stories of my childhood. For as long as I can remember, I have had a voracious appetite for books and literature, initially craving the escape they offered and eventually learning to savor the depth of care and meaning within them. In more recent years, my tastes have expanded, feeding my growing love for cinema and its engagement with storytelling on such a massive scale.

In short, I want to be a storyteller. I want to bring my ideas to life and I hope that they can bring the same joy to others as they do to me.