Such is the case with Castle in the Sky (1986). The story revolves around a young teenager named Pazu, who lives in a charming cliffside mining town where Model Ts and steam trains are still the main forms of transportation (think Sons and Lovers meets Jules Verne). One night a girl named Sheeta floats down from the clouds with the aid of a magical blue amulet. It seems she has past connections to the mythical floating castle of Laputa, a legend Pazu has been fascinated by since his father died trying to find Laputa long ago. But air pirates, the army, and a mysterious man named Muska are hot in pursuit of Sheeta, intending to steal her amulet and use it to find Laputa themselves. Pazu and Sheeta quickly bond: he helps her escape her enemies, and then they’re off to find Laputa for themselves (this is a Miyazaki film, so of course Pazu’s got a glider handy in his shed).

The film is a delightful romp, full of charming characters, quirky settings, and breathtaking escapes. Particularly fun are the air pirates, who turn out not to be so rotten after all. They’re a family of ten who live aboard a battered airship called the Tiger Moth: eight dopey sons, one stay-at-home dad, and Mama Dola, the pigtailed battleaxe who keeps everyone in line. Mama’s a hoot: she thinks she has the right to dictate gender roles to everyone (“Be a man!”; “You’re a girl! It’s too dangerous!”) despite the fact that she wears an incongruous blend of frilly dresses and bomber helmets.

But the characters who will linger longest in the viewer’s memory are Pazu and Sheeta, whose relationship is carefully and touchingly evoked. They obviously care deeply for one another, and their feelings border on the romantic without ever quite crossing that line. At one point in the film, they attempt to untie a rope tied between their waists (to keep Sheeta from flying away during a glider ride) but can’t do it. They look up, their eyes meet . . . and then they fall to the ground, laughing and shrieking, “We made it!” about their narrow escape. This kind of platonic male-female relationship seems to be a staple of Miyazaki films, and it’s always a delight to behold. Unlike in Disney movies, where two young protagonists of the opposite sex inevitably—and predictably—wind up falling in love, the pairs in Miyazaki’s films develop real trust, caring, and tenderness, emotions that arise spontaneously instead of being engineered into place just so the audience can experience a happily-ever-after climax. It’s something I wish I saw in American films more often.

The other chief joy of Castle in the Sky is Laputa itself. The island is a marvel of invention: a flying fortress-city centered around a great tree, whose roots wrap around the base of the island to form and protect it. When Pazu and Sheeta reach the island, one wonder after another rises up to meet them. There’s a big clunky robot who acts as gardener to the place, peacefully tending flowers and communing with the squirrel-foxes; there’s a massive indoor jungle, protected by a glass dome; there are formal gardens and streams and ruins, and a whole underwater city, barely glimpsed and then passed by. Miyazaki tells us tantalizingly little about the civilization that once inhabited this island, but the little we are told (I won’t give it away) is compelling.
Though it may not quite approach the perfection of Miyazaki’s masterpiece, Spirited Away (2001), Castle in the Sky is a fine example of his art.

note to parents: the film does contain battle scenes and moments where both kids come close to being shot, so it may be too intense for small children. It also contains many, many vividly-rendered instances where characters fall from the sky or risk doing so, so acrophobics beware!