 How does the author feel about Music of the Heart?
The Japanese director, Hayao Miyazaki, who spent three years on Princess Mononoke and is reported to have done 70 percent of its paintings himself, seems to work from the outside in: to begin with the curve of the earth, then the mossy hills, the watercolor foliage, the nubby stones, the whorls on the wood, the meticulous carvings on a teacup. A view of nature that some would call "tree-hugging" doesn't feel softheaded when the trees are rendered in such brilliant and robust detail. He's both inside and outside the action: He knows when to rock your world and when to induce a state of sorrowful detachment. The movie has a scope that makes Hollywood's homiletic, follow-your-dream fables look even more solipsistic. It's the beginning of what Bill McKibben called "the end of nature"--that is, when nature became no longer an autonomous, self-regulating force but one touched (and, in Miyazaki's view, poisoned) by human industry. In fact, the boars and apes have little patience with Ashitaka's call for nature and mankind to live together in harmony; they'd like to eat him. It's Miyazaki's use of sound--and silence--that takes your breath away: the determined tap of the wolf princess's shoes as she scuttles over the fortress's rooftops; the silence of Eboshi and her army as they stare at this tiny yet formidable tomboy against the black sky.
 The director missed his chance to make a great film by making safe choices.
 The film had lots of areas that could've been improved.  The director missed his chance to make a great film by making safe choices.  The film is not going to be nominated for an Academy Award.  There is not enough footage of the students learning their instruments.