Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m delighted to be returning to the early films of Toei Doga, as we explore their adaptation of Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. Released two years after the beautiful landmark that was The Little Prince and the Eight-Headed Dragon, Gulliver echoes the transition in art design philosophy that was initiated by Little Prince, though it pulls back somewhat from the clean geometric designs and impressionist background art of its predecessor.
Toei Doga’s artists were stretched thin across multiple productions throughout this era, so it’s little surprise that there’s a touch less continuity or artistic evolution than you’d expect across these films. Nonetheless, many of Toei’s early masters are still present on key animation, including the incomparable Yasuji Mori and the ascendant Yasuo Otsuka.
Mori has essentially been the emotional backbone of Toei’s film animation right from the start, lending an intimacy of character acting to their fantastical fables that grounds them in relatable human expressions, while Otsuka had already more than proven himself through his collaboration in animating the preposterously ambitious final battle with Little Prince’s titular dragon. Meanwhile, an ambitious young upstart named Hayao Miyazaki would here swiftly jump from in-betweening to concepting, as the relationships that would inform Takahata’s approaching Horus continued to be forged. Scanning across Gulliver’s contributors, you’ll see names that reach back to the beginning of Toei’s film animation and forward to the Masterpiece Theater works and Ghibli beyond, a human timeline of the personal bonds that made anime’s early works so magnificent, in spite of the immense responsibilities heaped on each individual artist. Let’s slot one more piece into this historical puzzle, as we explore the adventures of Gulliver and his companions!
Gulliver’s Travels Beyond the Moon
We open on swirling nebulas backed by an angelic chorus, the title drop promising us a majestic journey among the stars. My experience with these early Toei films is constrained entirely to historical and mythological dramas, so I’ll be interested in seeing what, if anything, is different about their approach to science fiction. Director Yoshio Kuroda at least is a studio veteran, having already directed their fifth feature film Sinbad three years earlier. Like so many of this film’s contributors, he would go on to direct and storyboard a variety of Masterpiece Theater productions
Terrific animation of a roiling sea right from the start, with a rough paint texture to the surf that makes the fluidity of its movement all the more impressive. A clear contrast immediately established between these background elements and the ship in turmoil, which is conveyed through flat colors and simplified shapes reminiscent of The Little Prince
A man on the ship struggles to maintain his footing. The grace of his movements makes me assume this might be Mori’s work, as does his generally tapering-to-the-ends design. Otsuka would describe the differing character design styles of Mori and Toei’s other original key animator Akira Daikubara as opposites: Mori’s designs have a rounder core and taper to smaller points, Daikubara’s designs have a thinner core and expand into large, expressive extremities
“No matter what happens, I must not give up hope!” The camera pans back from this man at sea, revealing we’re actually in a movie theater projecting his trials. It’s a shocking jump; wild action sequences at sea are a staple of Toei Doga’s early films from Panda and the Magic Serpent onward, so this feels a bit like a tongue-in-cheek gesture towards this film proceeding directly from its predecessors
Our protagonist is discovered to have snuck into the theater, and is thrown out. The contrast between the dramatic musical fanfare of the film drama and the silence outside creates a sense of intimacy and realism, bolstered by the weighted character acting of the guard and boy
Yeah, a real sense of weight and consequence as our lead presses down on one knee to lift himself to his feet
Apparently the film he was watching was an adaptation of the original Gulliver’s Travels
Love the burnt orange sky and slanted, craggy building silhouettes as he morosely trudges away. Though we seem to have abandoned the loose impressionism of Little Prince (Little Prince art director Reiji Koyama’s next film would be the ‘67 Jack and the Witch), the backgrounds are still impressive in their own way
The more I watch, and the more I learn from the recollections of Otsuka and others, the more it seems like Toei’s early films are a tale of outrageous talent stretched outrageously thin – after the first few years, simultaneous production meant none of their films were able to take full advantage of their staff
Our protagonist sits alone in a dank alley, a far cry from the bright colors and fanciful environments of their earlier films
He is nearly hit by a truck, and pinwheels to the side of the road
His design really is Mori all over – I figured Otsuka’s scribbles were oversimplifications, but you can easily identify the oval of his core thinning out to the points of his extremities
A tin soldier doll in a trash can admonishes him to be more careful. Every protagonist of this era needs a few tiny companions
I like how the lopsided angles of these street lights add a soft sense of storybook unreality to this street scene. A bit like Cabinet of Cagliostro’s oddly canted backgrounds
And here’s a little bulldog, our hero’s first animal companion
Nice bounce to the gate of this bulldog, a clear contrast with our protagonist’s measured, loping movements. You can tell a lot about a character by how they walk – the dog’s strut evokes proud confidence, while our human protagonist seems nearly defeated, constantly shrugging away from the world
Introductions are at last made: the boy’s name is Ted, the dog is Mack, and the tin soldier is the Colonel
The gang head off to a silent amusement park, the perfect venue for a musical interlude
It’s a essentially a dream sequence; with the music and animation working so tightly in sync, it actually reminds me of the bolder sequences of Fantasia
And we return to reality with the trio bouncing on carousel horses, willing them to move. An interesting contrast in this film between the gleefully fantastical and the soberly grounded, which serves as a major contrast from Toei’s more generally fanciful other films. The only other one I’ve seen that dabbled in this contrast was Anju and Zushiomaru, and it frankly didn’t feel particularly effective there – the goofy animal shenanigans simply clashed with the somber drama of Sansho the Bailiff. But here, the contrast between Ted’s lived and imagined reality feels effectively moving
The Colonel demands the park’s night guards turn on the lights, initiating a playful chase sequence
The use of fireworks in this scene actually seems to call back to the artillery barrage from the end of Little Prince, with the protagonist’s animal companions being employed to similar purpose and with similarly dizzying animated result. I’m guessing there’s some animator crossover there
And thus our heroes set off, borne aboard a carnival rocket into the night sky
Some nice gestures towards movement into depth as our protagonists land in a forest and flee unknown creatures, with rows of vegetation panning to the sides in order to create an illusion of forward movement
It already seems like Gulliver is falling into early Toei’s general tendency towards narrative formlessness – they often come across more as a series of distinct vignettes than a propulsive narrative. The best of them tend to group these vignettes into a series of coherent trials on the way towards a larger goal, like Saiyuki or The Little Prince
Emerging from the forest, the trio rush towards a house in the distance. Love this ethereal glow lighting their steps as they race towards the building; this film continues to tow an interesting line between realism and fantasy, portraying the world with the same hint of the fantastical through which a young boy would view it
They enter the house only to meet Gulliver himself
The linework of Gulliver’s face divides him into clean geometric shapes while simultaneously creating an impression of great age
Gulliver reveals the “Blue Star of Hope,” a distant planet visible only through his telescope. An effective switch to thicker linework and slight hatched shading for this montage of his past journeys, creating a look somewhat more akin to illustration than animation
He then reveals his spaceship. Ted convinces Gulliver to allow him on the journey with his own words, stating that “there is always hope!”
Their training for the journey offers another natural opportunity for a musical/animation montage, this one brought to us by Yasuo Otsuka himself. Preposterously expressive character acting is married to fanciful background design again calling Fantasia to mind. Otsuka has stated that he never felt particularly inclined to claim the director’s chair – he is most at home portraying whimsical, expressive characters in motion, and this sequence is a magnificent demonstration of just that. An immediate and obvious departure from the more naturalistic, Mori-derivative character acting that defines the film more generally. You can see why Otsuka was frequently assigned projects like animating scorpions, massive fish, or other inhuman monsters – his style stands out dramatically from his fellow animators, so having him handle fantastical creatures was presumably an easy way to smoothly integrate his talents into a larger work
Though Mori worked as animation director on Little Prince, I don’t believe this film actually had an animation director, meaning its various scenes are more reflective of the individual key animators assigned to them
Such playful energy, such mastery of character acting even as force and gravity tosses these characters around! Otsuka’s a gem
Gulliver makes a final speech to all of his animal companions. A convention of early Toei films that can at times feel amusingly out of place – it’s a little odd to see this space traveler addressing a gathering of deer and chipmunks like he’s Snow White. The necessity of animal companions also chafed in Anju and Zushiomaru, where depictions of slavery and immense hardship were contrasted against squirrels and bear cubs engaging in wacky shenanigans
Another musical interlude as the squad prepare to take flight, this one mostly celebrating all the diverse animal forms of Gulliver’s friends
Some interesting shifts in perspective as the group prepare to sit vertically in their rocket chairs. This film’s storyboarding has been refreshingly inventive in that regard; rather than the flat landscape perspective of many earlier films, there are a number of shots embracing dynamic camera positioning, treating the scene more as an actual set than a moving painting
All but the countdown fades as the rocket begins its final preparations. I suppose in 1965, transposing Gulliver’s Travels to a journey beyond the moon would have been a canny way to update a classic adventure fable to riff on the exploits that were currently dazzling the youth of the day
Popular media always reflects its era’s dreams and fears; the 60s were a banner decade for stories of adventures beyond the stars, just like our current era is replete with… well, stories of being ground into the dust by the inexorable march of capitalism, or at best fleeing it by leaping to another reality
“Don’t forget your space shoes.” Gotta wear your space shoes, Ted! A whole film of flailing in zero gravity really wouldn’t lend itself to much expressive character acting
The sea of stars is portrayed as a literal gossamer curtain as our little triangular ship voyages onward
A playful little sequence of the constellations taking full form and prancing across the sky
Ted and Mack swiftly learn you must drink space food through a straw. A sequence reflective of an era where even the mundanities of life on a spaceship were intriguing and novel, and also one that allows the animators to explore realizing characters through the slow, continuous movements of zero gravity
Suddenly the craft is barraged by a swarm of meteorites!
Some absolutely terrific smears as the crew are tossed from one side of the ship to the other
Also quite impressed by these external shots of the ship spinning and twisting in response to the collisions. Maintaining its consistency of form in spite of its wildly vacillating perspective relative to the camera must have been quite a challenge
They’re trapped in the reverse time nebula! It’s a world where time goes backwards!
At the last moment, a round alien craft bearing a V insignia appears and drags Gulliver’s trip to safety
Having rescued our travelers, the ship flies off without a word
Quite amused by Ted simply putting on a pair of gloves and bubble helmet to go on his first space walk. The outer space of sixties scifi media is often such a friendly place, barely requiring any accommodations beyond a well-fitted helmet
The animators are clearly having a lot of fun animating Mack floating and “swimming” in zero gravity
The Colonel takes a moment to enjoy a baseball broadcast on their ship monitor. They’ve got quite the receiver on this ship of theirs
As a green planet passes by the monitors, Ted drifts into a dream, and finds himself greeted by a space cherub with eyes like sapphires. Our trio follow him while riding stars, in a sequence whose seemingly effortless fluidity points to its authorship by the ever-astonishing Yasuji Mori. You can see Mori’s touch in the uniquely detailed yet still utterly fluid expression work of the characters, as well as the almost musical flow of their movements. Even the simplified form of this cherub has remarkably expressive hand movements and a singular grace in its diving to and fro. Mori is simply one of the greatest to ever animate
God, the preposterous grace with which this cherub kicks forward and floats through the sky. Mori’s movements feel as soft as velvet, yet imbued with such tremendous personality
Ted’s uncertain quest for happiness is rendered so clear and relatable through his facial acting here. A sequence of marvelous playfulness and yearning
I almost forget the inherent angularity of these designs when they’re in Mori’s hands, to the point where it feels like a shock to return out of Ted’s dream and back onto the ship bridge
But what’s this!? Those orb-shaped ships have returned, and are now forcing our explorers to land on an unknown planet!
It’s the Space Patrol, and they demand our heroes exit at once
The patrolmen’s distinctive physical designs, composed of thin rectangles overlapping with circles and crescents, calls to mind the unique ice creatures of Little Prince
Apparently Hideo Furusawa designed these robots, and was indeed influenced by the designs from Little Prince
“The Princess is coming home!” Gotta have a princess, even in space
Ooh, nice spacious composition as we prepare for the princess’ approach. This extended view of the court gives the scene a nice sense of grandeur and anticipation, with the partially tiled floor helping to affirm the depth and scale of the venue
Apparently it was the princess who saved them from the reverse time nebula
I quite like the princesses’ design – still in the geometrically simplified style of the other robots, but with more ovals and crescents to give her a softer look, as well as clearly demure, inward-leaning body language for a properly regal effect
She is quite expressive, but her movements are all composed of exaggerated straight-angle turns, evoking both her royal and robotic nature
More wonderfully imaginative, geometrically driven backgrounds as the group are driven to the palace. A touch modernist and a touch surrealist, very appropriate for such an alien landscape. I can now appreciate the film’s early backgrounds all the more, for what a clear contrast they present with these otherworldly locations
Apparently they used to live on the blue planet, but their own robots went made and drove them away
The royal palace is also quite impressive. I particularly like their horse designs, which are actually more like knights from a chess set. In fact, a great number of this court’s designs seem inspired by chess pieces – the princess herself looks much like a queen, she is flanked by clear rooks, and all of these robots seem to move around on tiny stands that make them seem all the more like board game props
The travelers are treated to a meal of colored balls they pick up and propel to their mouths via a sort of plus-sized eye dropper. Just a buffet of intriguingly strange ideas since they’ve arrived at this planet
The princesses’ curiosity about earth leads into another musical sequence regarding the progression of earth’s seasons. Interestingly, this sequence is given over largely to the background artists – the animation is mostly just simple geometrics shapes in motion, while the progression of backdrops truly tells the story
Each season’s tale ends with a somber note, with summer in particular referencing the atomic tests in the south pacific. An unexpectedly sharp flourish, though an undoubtedly inescapable point of discussion at the time
Lovely character design style for these winter children, again trending towards geometric minimalism, like paper dolls
The overall song impresses that everything in life is tinged with happiness and sadness, a more melancholy refrain than the film proper
The king declares that earth seems much better than his own home. “In this country, science has made too much progress, and it’s a disaster.” Given this is more a loose conceptual adaptation than a direct retelling of Gulliver’s Travels, it feels like the artists’ own perspectives are bleeding through more significantly. There is a clear sadness regarding the inherent injustices of life, and a sense of ambiguity regarding scientific progress in spite of its scifi drama structure
An alarm sounds, precipitating another song regarding this society’s elders and their foolish quest to “create a robot that could do everything.” In the wake of the bomb, even starry-eyed speculative fiction like this is embedded with a clear skepticism towards invention unimpeded by moral reflection
The scientists speculating on the wonders of their ultimate robot are portrayed as literally floating along inside bubbles, temporarily insulated from further reflection or consequence
“The easy life has come. Almighty science is paradise.” This film’s got some venom in it! Considering the more widely expressed politics of its creators, it’s not exactly surprising, but it’s still refreshing to see their perspectives so loudly expressed through this cautionary tale. Seems Toei was still something of a wild west at this point – I’ve heard their artists discussed and collaborated freely across production roles, so even the perspectives of their youngest and newest animators would bleed into the philosophies of their films
That political bent makes Anju and Zushiomaru’s conservative, hierarchical philosophy stand out all the more. I wonder what or who resulted in that film’s very different ethos
The robots turn evil, and the scientists are cast down into the abyss in a sequence that feels like the rebellious angels being cast down from heaven
“Go to Hell, humans!” And then the dialogue makes that reference explicit
The robots are seen making Nazi salutes as well, painting a progression from overwhelming conceit and ambition to fascism. This film has a lot of feelings about the violent excesses of the twentieth century
“It’s not a star of hope. It’s more like a devil’s star.” We must be wary of heedlessly pursuing our ambitions, of inherently seeing distant goals as positive and worthy of pursuit
And just then, a robot ship approaches!
The enemy ship is shaped like a cruise missile, exchanging fire with gun emplacements much like flak cannons
The cannons are unable to hold off the attacking ship. The overwhelming feeling is not one of glorious conflict, but helplessness – the fear of cowering through a bombing raid, only hoping that you escape the fires this time
“Quick! We must all hide!” Their only recourse is to literally hide inside the rook tower bomb shelters
Mack and the princess are stolen away by the invaders
While the king and his counselors have already given up, Ted is determined to save the prisoners. “The people here don’t know the true value of friendship”
And again, “we must never lose hope.” Ted began the movie by wondering what good hope can offer in a world of suffering and disappointment, but now seems to understand that it is precisely because the world is this way that hope is all the more essential
Gulliver constructs a machine to replenish their drinking water, and thereby learns that water is actually very dangerous on this planet, causing a violent reaction whenever it touches the surface
Meanwhile, Mack attempts to explain that there’s been some kind of abduction misunderstanding, and that he’s actually from earth. These ominous robots have nice designs of their own, with their flashing red eyes and lack of any other facial features emphasizing their implacable, unreachable nature
“Factory Robot, begin making more robots!” Robots are a handy device for illustrating how our inventions might propagate beyond our control
Dang, Factory Robot is efficient. His shutters drop down and release full squads of new robots, like bowling pins being set into place
“What? It’s a commercial robot.” In spite of this world’s authoritarian mono-perspective, capitalism is thriving. These artists don’t miss
Love Ted’s gunslinger-like saunter as he approaches the robot forces
Yeah, they’re really leaning into western cinematic language here – a faceoff between two gunslingers, with Ted’s fingers tensing as they inch near his water holster. Some very specific flourishes of character acting here – the specific clenching of his middle fingers, the way his arm hangs slightly outward from his side as he surveys his defeated targets. It is an extremely well-realized homage
But the ranks of robots seem endless! Whatever shall they do!?
Hah, an efficient trick for conveying the robots’ continuous march, with every walk cycle followed by a cut that moves the robot cels just a touch closer to the camera, then a repetition of that same walk cycle
Our heroes use their water machine to inflate a platoon of water balloon defenders
As water balloons soar over the advancing army, Mack attempts to disable the factory
The scene grows solemn and silent as the factory is shut down, the camera panning first over the unmoving assembly lines, and then the broken blocks where the robot army once stood. A moment of reflection on hubris before the final battle begins
Even though he was only an in-betweener on this film, Hayao Miyazaki was able to convince director Yoshio Kuroda to change the ending based on his idea. A testament to both the intensely collaborative, largely unstratified work culture at Toei, as well as Miyazaki’s brazen ambition and creativity even in this early stage of his career. I wonder when exactly we jump into the Miyazaki-envisioned segment
The boss robot catches our heroes in the red glow of his eyes, and they are swiftly tractor beamed up into the air
This giant robot design really is delightful. Menacing precisely because it is so far from both the curved designs and fluid movements of the human characters, with elongated arms like spider legs and massive clawed hands
The boss robot slams down a hand to crush Mack’s incomplete robot chassis, and Ted takes the opportunity to leap aboard. Basically a Shadow of the Colossus fight
Sneaking inside a hole in the robot, Ted discovers the cockpit of smaller robots actually piloting the machine
The unmanned machine climbs up a rock pile, topples, and shatters. Once again an oddly solemn, silent moment of victory, with the princess nowhere in sight
But there, in the ruins! They find the princess inside her knight chamber, and then Ted offers her some water, breaking her human core free of her robotic dress
“It’s cold…” A freeing yet frightening moment, as the princess faces this alien world without the protection of her robotic barrier. This indeed seems quite Miyazaki – abandoning our glorious technological or magical protectors in order to face a new horizon earnestly, which we see shades of in Castle in the Sky, Princess Mononoke, and Howl’s Moving Castle
“Mack, the people of Purple Star only appeared to be robots. They are no more robot than us.”
“Ted, thanks to you, there is hope for this star.” And Ted awakes back on earth, that hope still alive inside him
And Done
Ooh, that was an interesting one! In design and animation terms, it definitely followed the example set by The Little Prince and the Eight-Headed Dragon in a variety of ways, embracing that film’s more geometric character designs while grounding them in backgrounds that ranged from cozily realistic to bold and fantastical. The frequent musical interludes allowed the animators more freedom of design than any early Toei film I’ve seen, reveling in pure shapes and contortions of form guided only by the progression of the music, rather than adherence to any narrative necessity. And speaking of the narrative, this film’s wistful, contemplative tone was a refreshing shift from the brash adventures of Saiyuki and Little Prince; there was a clear and poignant sense of melancholy in its reflections on both youthful dissatisfaction and technology, seemingly echoing the sentiments of animators who grew up through and beyond the war. An invigorating and altogether worthy addition to the Toei canon.
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