There is a point in Homer's "The Odyssey" where Odysseus is washed ashore from a shipwreck. In his desperation, a young woman comes to his aid, rescuing him from his end. She was Nausicaa, lover of nature, and eventually serving as a mother of his rebirth.

In Hayao Miyazaki's first masterpiece "Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind" he heralds a protagonist of similar inspiration, whose own odyssey and heroism would also take on Homeric proportions.

The film's story takes place in a dystopian timeline where human civilization appears to be in its last throes. A vast toxic jungle envelops the land, teeming with monstrous insects, hostile to anything that disturbs the expanse. A few kingdoms remain, at war with the jungle and each other. One remaining beacon is the Valley of The Wind, a peaceful and prosperous feudal community, seemingly protected from the jungle by its bordering forest and strong winds.

The Valley's princess, Nausicaa, is a free spirit and genuine "renaissance man." Puzzled by the jungle's nature, she frequents its depths for resources and answers. Aside from mastering flight, she's also a ferocious warrior when need be. But what truly defines her is her uncanny rapport and devotion to all living things.

One day she is visited by Lord Yupa, a noted Valley resident revered for his wisdom and unparalleled swordsmanship. He has returned from his search for a prophesied savior only to return with grim news.

That same evening a massive airship crashes near the valley, attacked by an insect swarm. Having come from the neighboring jungle, it brings spores which threaten the Valley's forest, as well as an uneasy cargo.

The Valley soon learns that its ominous load is a prize sought by warring kingdoms, one of which lays siege to the Valley. This leads to various adventures, escapes, revelations, and locales of staggering creativity. Ranging from underground caverns, to heart of the toxic Jungle, and even to the very stratosphere.

The film is considered to be the first of Miyazaki's works to showcase his strong environmental inclinations. In every film since he has made his case for man to grow closer to nature as a return to the olden days. He does so with positive reinforcement, hardly ever resorting to demonizing, moralizing, or sermonizing. Here, the toxic jungle isn't so much an inhospitable realm as it is a fearsome marvel of nature. It's huge arthropod denizens never come off as oozing grotesques, but wondrous (though scary) creatures. The film's largest creations, the ohmus, are wholly original, and are almost proof that the eyes are the window to the soul.

Miyazaki's refusal to narrow down conflict to two or even three sides is refreshing, and quite admirable considering its target audience. The film's story does concern good versus evil, but they aren't manifested in simplistic ways. Each populace has its own motivations. Each conflict has its reason. Wars exist among man and against nature. Several stakes exist. Even death is hardly out of bounds. For much of the film, there is no one problem/solution. But despite this moral complexity for an animated film, it all fits Miyazaki's big picture, and in the end we see it.

It takes a deep wisdom and understanding of youth to be able to carry out this vision. To know that children will grasp and want to grasp his story and ideas. Miyazaki accomplishes this not only by his storytelling techniques, but also through his visual artistry. Like the very best of Japanese animation, there is a warmth and softness to his illustrations (thanks to his pristine watercolor motifs) that make it almost effortless for viewers to accept and acclimatize to what unfolds on the screen. It allows for his characters and narrative to "breathe" (and breathe deeply), with moments of contemplation and authentic feeling taking hold. Compare this to his contemporaries who have to rely on cutesy gimmicks, frantic pacing, or glitzy style to draw in audience interest.

But its "what" he illustrates that captures our hearts as well as our minds. Much of anime in the past 20 years has concentrated on a utopian future, filled with technological wizardry and innovation, which is abundant in Japanese culture. But Miyazaki tends to look back instead of looking forward, inward instead of outward, looking at treasures of futures past that might have been. Like most of his films, his timeline here isn't technological, but pastoral, with people relying more on each other and the Earth.  He favors gorgeous green panoramas usually near blue bodies of water. He is in love with flight with his heroes soaring through the sky, representing our dreams of breaking through our limitations. We sense his hope in women more than men, believing them to be the key to humanity's progress as opposed to man's history of violence. These creeds and themes are held dearly and instinctively by the young and hopeful, and its Miyazaki's ability to convey these naturalistic ideas through his visual imagination, which makes him unique.

And his imagination. My God is it breathtaking. Only Pixar has been able to rival Miyazaki's creative energies in forming entirely new sights, sounds, and stories with each subsequent film. But Pixar is a collection of talent (all of whom pretty much worship him), while Miyazaki is a singular force. While even the greatest of directors have to rely on cast and crew to carry out their visions, Miyazaki pretty much IS the film. He might be the closest thing to the idea of an "auteur" which filmdom has.

Yes I effuse praise for Hayao Miyazaki, but to write about his films can only lead to discussing the marvel that is the man. No other animator has produced such an admired body of work in the past 30 years, nor has influenced so much of its workings. And in the world of animation "Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind" is one of its brightest stars, giving birth to Studio Ghibli and its priceless body of work. It is the seminal Miyazaki film, breathing wonder, tenderness, and life into worlds where we'd all like to live in.

The 60s were a rough transition for America. Major shifts seemed to be occurring in every fabric of society from civil rights to sexual mores. The worsening course of the Vietnam war fueled distrust in political institutions. Women's rights highlighted a breaking from oppressive traditions. The old seemed to be fading away more radically than ever before.

Like the era it was made in, "Hud" was a key shift. As film critic Emmanuel Levy correctly puts it, it is "a transitional film between the naive films of the early 60s and the more cynical ones later in the decade."  Though it plays as a compelling drama of small town life and family tribulation, through its lens of father-son conflict, it also captures the angst in the loss of authority, the gap between of two different generations, and an elegy for the good ole' days.

Based on the novel "Horseman, Pass By" written by that marvelous writer of the contemporary west Larry McMutry (best known for "Lonesome Dove"), "Hud" chronicles the hardships of the O'Bannon family, headed by its elderly patriarch Homer (Melvyn Douglas). He owns a cattle ranch and runs it with the help of his son Hud (Paul Newman), and Hud's wide-eyed nephew Lonnie (Brandon De Wilde).  While the O'Bannon boys run the ranch, their housekeeper Alma Brown (Patricia Neal) runs the household.

The film draws much of its power from its relationships, told mainly through Hud's exploits and conversations. A drunk and a womanizer, he can't help but switch from ranch hand to ladies man any chance he gets. Though he is weak with vice he possesses a certainty and a bravery that doesn't quite cross into foolishness. He's sly and not shy.

His father Homer is almost always on his case, and a model of calm unrelenting virtue, which might not be a virtue itself. He harbors a disappointment and bitterness in his son, which may seem apparent to Hud and to us, but goes deeper. Lonnie on the other hand is a true innocent who likes being with Hud because he's the closest thing to being a father figure and a big brother rolled up into one.

One day Homer finds one of his cattle dead, leaving both he and Hud puzzled as to the cause. Both find out soon enough that it is the worst thing that could happen to their way of life. It only brings out the ugliest in both their bitterness towards each other and ethical questions on how to cope with what is to come.

These doubts along with the animosity between father and son reflected the uncertainty of the times "Hud" existed in. Though the story seems to be set in the 50s with its careful attention to rural Americana, it only enhances an elegiac mood of a passing era, which Homer fully embodies. And as his soul seems to wither, his ranch transforms slowly and sadly in step, from buzzing to barren (pictured in gorgeous black and white by legendary cinematographer James Wong Howe).  Melvyn Douglas plays him with a authentic dignity that is felt throughout his performance, regardless of how simplistic or vague his characterization is. Even with a simple sing-along moment, he finds away to bring out his heart.

Though Homer might be the counterpoint which Hud plays against, but it's his relationship with Lonnie which helps us sympathize with him. Brandon De Wilde completely conveys a guilelessness which we can't help but reminisce on and care for. We relate to how he admires his grandfather, as it reflects our own hopes in acquiring the wisdom of our elders. But we also understand why he gravitates to Hud as he seeks a fellow exuberant spirit. When we see Hud take Lonnie under his wing, hesitantly revealing secrets, we understand him. Without Lonnie, Hud would be nothing but an ingrate.

Another one of the film's treasures is Alma Brown who arouses desire. Ideal in Lonnie, carnal in Hud. Played by the late Patricia Neal, she provided a refreshing change from the primped up cowboy beauties of the 50s (e.g. Angie Dickinson in "Rio Bravo") and provided a glimpse of the earthier female personas yet to come (e.g. Claudia Cardinale in "Once Upon A Time In The West"). But before or since, has there ever been a tougher or more memorable female character in a contemporary Western than Alma? She shows sensuality without trying to be sexy. She marks interest in Hud without revealing weakness, and her no-nonsense approach was ahead of its time. She more than held her own against Paul Newman, which only adds to her and the film's appeal.

And of course we have the inimitable Paul Newman whose role here would cement his place in the Hollywood firmament (and supply him pretty much a dry run for his most famous role of "Cool Hand Luke"). It should be said the novel portrayed Hud as a man without merit. But here, with grace and gravitas, he supplies Hud with inklings of a soul. We understand why he went wrong, find an hint of where he may have gone wrong, and realize that inflexible nobility can produce its equivalent opposite.

Paul Newman was said to have been shocked that so many viewers felt for Hud O'Bannon instead of viewing him as a villain. Though many people see him as Alma rightly called him, "a cold-hearted bastard," he's more than that. "Hud" as a character of his time embodied a new ethos (right or wrong) longing to break free from old norms and seeking acceptance. As a film, it marked the entry of a new type of Western, one that was more intimate, more cynical, and more authentic than those before it.