Porco Rosso (1992)

Porco Rosso is one of those rare films that feels like a breezy adventure and a wistful grown-up fable at the same time: a sunlit flight over the Adriatic with a shadow of history passing beneath the wings. Miyazaki turns dogfights and sky pirates into pure cinematic play—gorgeous clouds, lovingly detailed planes, and action that’s thrilling without ever losing its sense of humor or humanity. Beneath the charm, there’s a quietly stirring current about pride, loneliness, and the cost of war, anchored by a wonderfully capable young mechanic and a smoky, romantic seaside atmosphere you can practically taste. If you want a straightforward kids’ cartoon, its melancholy undertones and old-world politics may surprise you, but if you’re open to an animated film with real soul, it’s an absolute delight.

Porco Rosso is Miyazaki taking a playful pulp-adventure setup—sky pirates, dogfights, a cursed ace—and using it to drift into something more wistful about regret, politics, and growing older. The problem is it can feel a bit shapeless: the story meanders like a lazy flight over the Adriatic, and the ending doesn’t land with the emotional punch or thematic clarity some viewers expect from his very best. If you want a tight plot, a big cathartic climax, or clear answers about what it’s all “meant” to say, this may leave you mildly unsatisfied. But if you’re happy to trade momentum for mood, charming banter, gorgeous aircraft animation, and a surprisingly mature, melancholy tone under the comedy, it’s an easy film to spend time with.