Although, I would be rather happy if it were Totoro, at least Totoro never stole my catalogues... moving on...

My Neighbour Totoro is another beautiful all ages film by Studio Ghibli (pronounced Jibbly).

Satsuki and Mei move to the countryside with their father after their mother does herself a mischief.

Soon after moving in the two girls, voiced by Dakota and Elle Fanning respectively, realise that they share their house with some rather unusual critters and an even more unusual neighbour named Totoro.



My Neighbour Totoro was originally released in Japan in 1988 and in the US in 1994 by Troma films (the ingenius people that brought us Tromeo and Juliet and Toxie) before being licensed and redubbed by Disney in March 2006 and acquired by Madman entertainment soon after.

Although animated in 1988, the quality of animation and film stock itself are excellent and as with all Ghibli films, the music is incredible.

The local release is a bit shy on special features, with alternative angle storyboards, original trailers and textless opening and closing credits but as mentioned above, the film itself is in pristine condition. And wrapped in a high quality reversible slick.

I wouldn't necessarily say that this is a must-watch for any old anime fan, but I will say that it is a must-have for all Ghibli fans.

A wonderful film filled with fantasy, wonder and hope that will be a delight for adults and children alike. Written and directed by the legendary Hayao Miyazaki.

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Great one, Tonto! You're standing at the front of the comic and that's about the best the whole thing has to offer.

Sure, there's the whole black out, look out from the kid by the fire side. That's just not enough though. It is really like that Ultimate feeling back when Peter Parker wasn't even Spider-Man in the first issue or two. Same here, and it's all build up.

Frankly though, it would be nice to remember anything after what chunder starts spitting out from the microwave with a sweaty bag. It's like certain types of paper are good at absorbing moisture and then there's plenty of others which suck.

From the opening page to the last, whatever transpires in between really doesn't stick.

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Reading a comic with no prior catch up on the issues before is fraught with possible times of surprise and angst. Thunderbolts #107 feels just like that bottle of orange juice angst tipping into a shot glass of yoghurt.

Doc Ock is out fighting the fight, leading a good team? Then there's the various conversations which take place in peoples's minds. Fair enough, but damn if these people aren't too cheap to even pick up a few coins and dunk it into a pay phone for the call. At least they didn't go about with mobiles latched onto the sides of their heads.

Trying to figure out what the hell is going on is enough to make enjoying the reading time of a comic a lame duck hobbling into a pot.

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And from the very first page of Doctor Strange: The Oath, it's a cracker. Iron Fist and Luke Cage? Yeah, as if there's a dynamic that needs explaining. But when Rand does, he's doing a fine jab at it and the light-hearted start belies the hairy twisting world unfolding mere pages later on.

Not only does the good Doctor get some of that astral screen time action happening, but the Night Nurse makes an appearance. And whosoever shall think she's a nurse straight and through aren't paying enough attention to names that pretty much every in the Marvel U stickers on their "Hello! My name is..." labels.

Oh she's good, and so is this issue, where Strange has to figure out who the heck knocked him off this mortal plane. Intriguing indeed.

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Having problems figuring what day of the week it is no matter how many reads of the calendar and desk notes? Forget about trying to figure out when the smoke of night and blaze of day happens in this comic then. No easy colour codes for the blind, it's a swing into the nightmare world ruled by Freddy and back again. It's like a haze of drugs that burn purple and nobody else is clearer for the message.

They'll have a nice opening with a spill of blood and that there shines in the face of the horrors for the outline. Of course, it does help to at least get something of an origin in the first issue, and in a single page, it's all out here for the guy in the red and green/black striped sweater.

When in the playground of this maniac, nobody gets an easy night's sleep. Reading this is the distillation of the movie series, and it's quite and easy feeling to just put it down and not feel like needing another dose.

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Leetspeak is all over the title of Se7en: Gluttony. Where it's really just SETEN, forget that though, that's ignoring the stamp of marketing for the movie in which the comic is based upon.

Jumping back to events before the roll of Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt in the film with Kevin Spacey, it's all about how John Doe selects his whale of a target. Big and lumbering, the soaks of blood is what apparently lines up and around the edges like sauce dripping from the cracks of a pie. Along with the se

There's a washy sense of asking questions from that guy who keeps his hands in his pockets while the fire in the background rages on. Aesthetics reflects this and the stink of a festering gash is so vile that it's rich in its shot from the glass.

Mulling about with a holier than what now, this Doe appears to be one man who is not the kind of person to meet after making a decision to put something off for just one more day.

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