The Secret of NIMH (1982)
I chose this movie because I had fond memories of it from childhood, but I had not seen it for a couple of years prior to this HoF. I now realize I've done myself a disservice by not coming back to it sooner. The animation's beautiful, the story's well told and the characters are likable (mostly). But I've only resently come to discover a connection with Mrs. Brisby that goes deeper than it was previously.
Earlier this year I became an uncle for the first time. I now have a ten month old nephew, which has had quite the effect on me. He's hovering between crawling and walkning, which means you gotta keep a close eye on him so he doesn't fall over (or something else does). He's a bundle of joy, but I worry about him, and I'm just the uncle! My job goes as far as playing with him and spoiling him rotten. If I worry this much over a kid who's most immediate problem's whether or not he's getting dessert after dinner, how stressful must it not be to have four kids to fend for, without a spouse and with one of them in danger of dying from an illness? It must be near enough paralyzing, and yet Mrs Brisby not only manages to keep moving, she actively seek out help from creatures who would kill her given slightly different circumstances. When Nicodemus says this...
Nicodemus: Courage of the heart is very rare.
...I believe it. The courage she displayes in pursuit of a way to save her children is very scarce, and while she does become scared at many a time throughout the story, it's natural, and she never lets it stop her from doing what she has to. Such natural displays of genuine courage are few and far between, whether it's in live action or animation. At the same time, she doesn't let this worry show when she's with the children or encountering others around her. She's always kind, even to Jeremy when he's threatening to have them discovered by the farmers cat, risking their lives in the process.
Speaking of Jeremy, while I didn't really have a problem with him other than the fact that he sometimes outstayed his welcome, he is the weakest point of the movie. It's been said that Bluth has a problem when it comes to levity, but I think that it's not exactly what's wrong. He can create levity in a scene by way of setting the scene, but the problem's the dialouge. He's not very good at making a
character funny, but making a moment feel less gloomy or less hostlie, that he's got down to a t.
Take the scene wherein Mrs. Brisby's feeding Timothy the medicine; it's intimate, the light's subdued but for a halo surrounding the bed in yellow light (they could've mixed the audio a bit better, though. The song that's playing over the scene was a little to loud, if they'd had it set lower and with a softer voice it'd been more effectful). Same with their home in general. It's cluttered and built piece-meal, but it has a feeling of security and warmth. It's a safe, comforting place; while the lighting's subdued, what light there is is warm, in earthy tones of red and brown.
Contrast this with the interior of the Great Owl's tree: Here all color has been leeched out of the light, giving a feel of age and decay. Light grays mingle with cold blues and inky black darkness. She misses the Owl entierly at first, being completely still and blending into the background, only becoming aware of him as he lifts a claw and crushes the spider mere inches from attacking her. Then two bright, torch-like eyes nails her to the ground and she beholds his massive form. Everything here's been made to be uninviting, no warmth in this home, only bones scattered about from unfortunate pray.
A mix of both you can behold in the approach and subsequent interior of the rosebush, wherein the rats live. After forcing through the outer layer of the rosebush, Mrs. brisby's met with thick, black stems clad in thorns, as to keep unwanted guests out. But juxtaposing that feel of hostility are brightly colored lamps in every hue of the rainbow, spreading light around and between the stems, creating a feel of making the best of a bad situation, like being forced to thread through sharp thorns to get to a safe haven. Later, she must traverse a dark passage, bereft of the multi-colored lights, only to be led into a lit room, board a diving bell and be transported to the rats home proper, again lit with warm, earthy tones as in her home, if lacking some of the comforting feel.
This is what Bluth's great at, setting a mood for any given scene. While favouring (it seems) the darker stories and darker settings, he's got no problem with turning a dark and hostile situation into a place of calm and safety. What needs work is how to portray levity in the characters, how to make them funny without them becoming annoying. They manage better with the Shrew, but she's still not totally bereft of some annoying features. She's a tough old bird, though, managing to stop the tractor from beginning to plow the field early by severing the fuel line and disconnecting the battery (I think). Without her, the whole movie would've been over before it really began.
The story itself might not be very deep, but it needn't be. This is more of an emotional adventure, played out in a mother's desperate attempts to both save her family and keep it whole, something already made impossible by the death of her husband before the movie's beginning. She must fight to keep what's left together, only barely managing it in the end. The ending, while abrubt, makes for a passable (if overly saccarin) conclusion, played out to a soft, beautiful song over what apparetly was the storyboards of the project.
This movie's still a favourite, maybe even more so now, when I have more sense to apreaciate it with. I'll have a hard time ranking these movies, but I think this is still a contender for the top most spaces.
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, I'm sad because I just realize the difference between me and an experienced MoFo.
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