wrrrk...in engendering belief, we trace nausicaä's young-girl in the vignette of a crosshair, christ loosed from its kite, arms outstretched. her resurrection, her foretelling—it means something that she eclipses the masculinist presumption, that she struggles with, but steadily commits to, violence in order to survive. nausicaä embraces pacifism inasmuch as it is bearable, as it is effective, as it is pragmatic (and meaningfully so!). her becomings-animal, too: whereas christ arrives already a man (so, too, a god), nausicaä fights for everything that she (inevitably) becomes. miyazaki thinks the wound, and she thinks it through. she observes, she draws nearer. she gets cut, she gets bitten: nausicaä's christ bleeds red, but turns blue—turns sky! but, none of these are met (in the eyes, in the face), as some 'essence', some 'already-known', even if <i>something</i> in the event already elides finite containment. experience is met by nausicaä (by the children, by the ohm), with truly-wide eyes (a silent flash, lastel-in-captivity: brief light, escaping the black hole of war, escaping a wound). and this eruptive process of recording, of encounter, pins motion to miyazaki's otherwise-massive, heaving work: precociously-sensitive articulations of its child-eyes, traversing technocultural geologies with the lightnesses of animate-thinking, with its own centuries of genius. and hisaishi thinks the refrain, too, in bottled-recursions of synthesis (its modes, its affections). its spiral-passages, through motif and lyrical weft, through miyazaki's cel-walled antechambers; through acoustic fields (and cables), cut-out for bugs, windmills, chirps, whispers, hums, and milled-electricities (as many, many little-heralds, little-heraldings): hisaishi conducts air! but miyazaki's voice actors think the break-down, or the rupture: principally, of shimamoto's nausicaä, and matsuda's asbel. each have their moments of performance; the mics catch their throats almost tearing apart from their respective inside-outsider pressures, met with their inalienable expressions of pathos—a kind of animism that becomes harder and harder to conserve, in the mass scalings-up of a 'professional studio technique.' not merely in terms of its technologies, but much more so in terms of an ethos. what does it mean to capture a performance, in animation? is it to elide all of its detectable edges, its hitchings? to 'disappear' all of its seams? for miyazaki, for nausicaä, here, the answer seems clear enough: a performance (and its capture, its recording) is to warble, to tumble-around—to weave! and she wouldn't have it any other way.
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