Kiki's Delivery Service still manages to cast enchanting spell

Deceptively simple and sweet, Hayao Miyazaki's Kiki's Delivery Service has still managed to linger in the hearts of movie lovers, and now it's finally gotten the proper DVD release it deserves from Disney and Studio Ghibli.

Kiki, voiced by a young Kirsten Dunst in this Western version of the story, is a 13-year-old witch who - as is the custom - is sent to live away from her parents for a year to figure out what her talent is. Kiki eventually settles on the village of Koriko, which resembles a seaside European village in the 1950s, and sets up her titular delivery service.

One of the things that makes viewers of all ages become instantly engaged with Kiki's story is the genuine wonder with which she approaches the world, delivered in both Miyazaki's story (loosely based on the novel by Eiko Kadono) and in Dunst's voice work. He's said in interviews that he modeled Kiki's adventures on the mix of independence and reliance experienced by Japanese girls, and as he did for younger children with My Neighbor Totoro and later Ponyo, he's made a story that fits his heroine's age and outlook perfectly.

And it doesn't hurt that visually this is probably Miyazaki's best work too, and certainly his most mainstream. John Lasseter, who introduces the movie on DVD, is known to be a devoted fan, and you can see the direct link from the stunning sight of Kiki encountering her new seaside home for the first time and when Remy scurries to the rooftop and first overlooks Paris. Oh if only Pixar hadn't caught the 3-D bug ... oops, I won't digress.

As Kiki settles in Koriko and applies her talent for flying, she's always accompanied by her loyal sidekick, a black cat named Jiji, voiced in the Western version by the late Phil Hartman. Though he was never one of my favorite Saturday Night Live performers, he's restrained but seriously sarcastic here, and it's what I most like to remember him for.

Kiki also finds her first love in Tombo, a young boy who looks surely not coincidentally a heck of a lot like TinTin. Like Miyazaki, Tombo has a love of flying machines. And it's this signature Miyazaki trait that give's Kiki's Delivery Service its strongest act - the big finale.

The movie ambles along at a leisurely and breezy pace until Kiki starts to lose her two most valuable skills, flying and the ability to talk to Jiji. I don't want to give too much away, but she eventually gets them back with the help of a mysterious hippie artist named Ursula (Janeane Garofalo, yes really), just in time to come to the rescue of poor Tombo, who finds himself - among other things - hanging on to a rope attached to a crashed dirigible. It's a super action set piece that's rivaled in Miyazaki's work only by the finale of Castle in the Sky, and it's what seals the timeless quality of Kiki's Delivery Service.

In the extras, Miyazaki makes a sly dig at Western audiences who don't stick around through the credits (unlike Japanese audiences who, not surprisingly, apparently sit there dutifully until the lights come up), and there is indeed plenty of reason to stick around until the very end of Kiki's credits (which I admittedly didn't do until now.) It completes the story in a humorous and touching way, and just sums it up perfectly.

Though the real treasure among the extras are the original storyboards that allow you to see the movie coming together in Miyazaki's hands, there are also featurettes which let you hear from the man himself, and it's here that his genuine love for this movie comes through. The animation master hopefully has at least a few more movies left in him, and it's a pure joy to see the mischief in his eyes as he talks about "deceiving" Japanese viewers into thinking that Kokiro was based on actual European city, whereas it's clearly just a hodgepodge of classic European settings, rendered as beautifully as an impressionist painting.

And, most remarkable of all, producer Toshio Suzuki reveals that he pitched the idea of making a movie about an adolescent girl, and at the time Miyazaki said he knew nothing about them (having only sons.) As anyone who's seen Kiki's Delivery Service knows, that didn't keep him from making a movie that not only captures that awkward period in life perfectly but also delivers a tale that manages to cast a still lingering spell on viewers young and old more than 20 years after its original release.

DVD review: My Neighbor Totoro is still charming after all these years

In a movie world in which it seems like everything we see will be in 3-D (and I'm not exaggerating one bit there), there are really very few better reminders of how beautiful old-fashioned storytelling can be than in the still extremely charming films of Hayao Miyazaki.

Out now on DVD from Disney and Studio Ghibli are special editions of "Kiki's Delivery Service," "Castle in the Sky" and "My Neighbor Totoro." "Totoro," more than any Miyazaki movie, just perfectly captures his ability to view the world through the eyes of mischievous children, and in Totoro himself gave the studio its signature mascot.

Unlike most of Miyazaki's movies, "Totoro" has a definite time and place, rural Japan in the 1950s, and he and his animators turn the landscape of rice patty fields and wooded areas into an enchanting place to visit.

As the movie opens, Satsuki and her 4-year-old sister Mei, voiced with wide-eyed enthusiasm by Dakota and Elle Fanning in the Western version (yes, really), arrive with their father at their new home in the countryside, and of course immediately find it to be full of wonders, including the susuwatsari, soot sprites that disappear once the girls become comfortable in their new surroundings.

And this odd living arrangement (mom, it turns out, is recovering in a hospital from a long-term illness) just about perfectly captures how Miyazaki views the role of adults and children in the world. Dad, voiced by Tim Daly, is benevolent but aloof, happy to keep his nose buried in books while his daughters explore the world around them. It can be troubling if you think about it too much, and even more so in "Ponyo," but don't ... just let the charms of "Totoro" unfold around you as they do for young Mei.

After spying a pint-size, semi-translucent version of Totoro (there are, since Miyazaki is ever the prankster, three of them), Mei follows it through a thicket of trees and down a hole where she finally encounters the giant version of Totoro, who most closely resembles a big cat, but really just looks so odd that he can be just about anything you want him to be. There's a genuine goofy charm to their first encounter, as Mei lays on the stomach of a sleeping Totoro and tries to figure out just what in the world she's encountered.

I don't want to give away too much for anyone who's never seen this or just wants to rediscover the movie again, but from there it turns into one of Miyazaki's trippiest rides, and it's a thoroughly fun one to take. On the way we get a signature moment of Miyazaki wit when Totoro first reveals himself to Satsuki as she and Mei are waiting in the rain for their father at a bus stop, and promptly jumps up to drench her with water. Things get crazier and crazier, though at a natural pace, until a giant cat bus (you really have to see it to believe it) arrives to reunite the girls with their mother.

I think Miyazaki's best movies, "Totoro," "Kiki's Delivery Service" and "Ponyo" (though I have a real soft spot for "Porco Rosso" too), are the ones he has clearly made for kids. He's just a big kid himself, and he delights in creating worlds that let children explore everything around them and discover all the dangers and delights.

And, whether you've never seen "My Neighbor Totoro" or simply want to reunite with a movie I'm sure many of you loved when it first came out in 1993 (in the U.S.A., five years after its Japanese release), this "special edition" is one that truly earns that designation.

The real treasure here are the original Japanese storyboards, which let you watch the movie as a work in progress, with Miyazaki's raw drawings accompanied by the Western voice track. For animation lovers, this really is an indispensable treasure.

And in the World of Ghibli, there are a series of featurettes, the best of which feature Miyazaki himself talking about what he has created with "Totoro." It's here that you see both Miyazaki's clear love of Japan and his impish spirit emerge. And hearing producer Toshio Suzuki explain how Totoro himself is and isn't like "ET" is just a delight. One word of caution - unless you're simply in need of a sleeping aid, avoid at all costs the "The Locations of Totoro" featurette, which is simply a half hour of some Japanese actress walking through the Japanese countryside and saying things like "this farmhouse easily could have fit in 'Totoro'." Yes, really, and it's just as boring as it sounds here. Other than that, however, the extras here are well worth an hour or so to delve into the weird and often wonderful world of Studio Ghibli.

Whether you're discovering it for the first time or, like me, revisiting an old favorite, "My Neighbor Totoro" has a timeless charm that will never grow old, and is well worth watching again on this special edition release.