In his enormously entertaining review of Ghost in the Shell this month, Brad Crammond talks about the backdrop against which his positive opinion of that particular anime movie is set. When most anime, he contends, “has an undercurrent of just plain fucking crazy”, something like Ghost in the Shell is a refreshing change of pace, in that it “doesn’t suck at all”.

The backdrop against which I am writing this review is as a lover and advocate of animated movies in general, from old school Don Bluth-style serenity to Pixar’s latest, coolest and most breathtaking. I am steeped in the animated movie tradition – at least, Western animated movie tradition – and when presented with, say, this Sporcle quiz – or this one, or this one -- have no trouble whatsoever in completing it not only well within the assigned time limit but with 100% accuracy. (Which is more than I can claim, I am slightly ashamed to say, about almost any other arena of Sporclish inquiry.)

So, one would think that never was there a better candidate for an adult appreciation of anime than yours truly. Indeed, I thought it entirely reasonable to believe that I would go into a movie like Howl’s Moving Castle – based on an acclaimed children’s book, directed by an acclaimed filmmaker – and at the very least not begrudge the minor cost involved in the transaction. But this, my friends, was not to be. Instead, Howl’s Moving Castle was… fine, I guess. Kinda dull. Certainly very silly. And a huge waste of energy better spent watching an animated something even as basic as The Land Before Time, which, at least, has the virtue of cute baby dinosaurs.

Do you know about Howl’s Moving Castle? Let me fill you in. Young Sophie (Emily Mortimer) is a milliner in some drab little town when she catches the eye of the enigmatic Howl (Christian Bale), a powerful magician. This rouses the jealousy of the Witch of the Waste (Lauren Bacall), who promptly curses Sophie and turns her into an old woman. Understandably distraught, Sophie runs away, only to run into a pogo stick-like creature, quickly-dubbed Turnip Head, who most fortuitously leads her to sanctuary: the moving castle of the title, that – of course – just happens to belong to Howl.

Now, the moving castle is very cool, I will concede. And inside, she meets the trapped, self-aggrandizing demon Calcifer (Billy Crystal) and the inevitable magician’s apprentice, Markl (Josh Hutcherson), both of whom lend a sorely needed sense of Something Happening to the plot. But neither they nor Howl’s ongoing magical infighting with the tediously haggish Madame Suliman (Blythe Danner) nor the backdrop of vaguely-feudal war can make this movie anything other than a long, tedious and hugely disappointing mess of ill-drawn, unremarkable pointlessness, all leading up to one of the more passionless love stories ever seen in cartoons. (And, yes, I’m including here Mickey and Minnie’s curiously familial relationship.)

Now, my objection to this movie is in no way based on any fondness for the original text I might feel – which would ordinarily, I must concede, be a valid hypothesis in trying to explain my disdain of a transformative work – because I have never read the Dianna Wynne Jones story on which it is based, and in fact don’t really think I’ve ever read any of her books at all. And when I strip the narrative away from its ill-constructed presentation, I can tell immediately that the story itself isn’t the main problem here. Oh, it’s all very implausible and kind of a stretch, but then, no one has ever claimed that singing bears or diabolical octopi make a whole lot of sense, and yet I am fans of them. (And I have already waxed quite lyrical on the bizarre world of Cars, which I totally love even though I can’t even begin to fathom how that race of automobiles was ever created, let alone actually functions.)

No, my problem with Howl’s Moving Castle is in its glacial pacing, its awkward editing, its eardrum-assailing score and its general ho-hum-edness. It’s not gouge-your-eyes-out torture but neither is it lift-your-eyes-to-the-heavens praiseworthy. And it is this disconnect between me and the evident heart song of the intelligentsia at large that has me somewhat at a loss.

When Howl’s Moving Castle was released in theaters worldwide, it was hailed as a revelation, yet another piece of animated genius gifted unto us by that most revered of anime’s practitioners, Hayao Miyazaki. It went on to rake in over US$230 million at the worldwide box office ($15 of which was mine), in the process becoming one of Japan’s most successful cinematic exports. It was repeatedly listed as one of the best films – not just animated films, but all films – of its year of release, and the adoration heaped upon it by critics, style-makers and my hipster friends who are so cool they just get Miyazake, took on positively Quadrophenia-n proportions.

And all the time, all I could think was: what the HELL is all the fuss about? Did I lose something in the translation? I mean, what is it about this foolish little fable that had -- and still has -- everyone so worshipful? Come on, admit it, did you really like it as much as you told everyone you did, or was it just that, Emperor’s New Clothes-style, you were too afraid to admit you were blind to virtues everyone else declared so obvious?

Personally, I’m happy to stand up and say it proudly. The Emperor is naked. I did not like this movie AT ALL.

And don’t even get me started on Princess Mononoke.

   -- Rachel Hyland