Still from My Neighbor Totoro
IU Cinema Founding Director Emeritus Jon Vickers discusses the pivotal role of nature in a Miyazaki classic and an inspiring documentary about second chances.
While most people understand the environmental aspects of individual trees and forests — trees are inherently good — many do not know the links to socio-economics, individual and public health. Additionally, the concept of urban forests, urban forestry, or even citizen forester is still new to many. Yet, almost anyone can learn how to better appreciate, care for, and even grow their urban tree canopy and become a citizen forester.
To help plant a seed of appreciation and understanding (yes, ha, ha, pun intended), here are two very different films to consider: Hayao Miyazaki’s My Neighbor Totoro (1988) and Brandon Kramer’s City of Trees (2015). Totoro asks us to wonder; City of Trees asks us to act. Together, these two films explore how forests, whether imagined or urban, nurture us … and how we, in turn, are called to nurture them.
Still from My Neighbor Totoro
A Whisper from the Forest
In the animated worlds of Hayao Miyazaki, forests and trees are far more than scenic backdrops — they are characters — living, breathing entities with agency, memory, and emotional depth. They remind us that nature has a voice — and it is always speaking.
Across his films, from My Neighbor Totoro to Princess Mononoke and Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, nature — particularly wooded landscapes — plays a central role in both the narrative and the moral compass of the story. Trees in Miyazaki’s work are often guardians of balance, ancient beings that hold the memory of the land, quietly observing the rise and fall of human ambition. He imbues the natural world with personality and power, treating forests as sentient spaces that influence the lives of the characters who enter them.
One of the clearest examples is the camphor tree in My Neighbor Totoro, which houses the gentle forest spirit Totoro. Its massive trunk and towering branches offer comfort, shelter, and even magic. When Satsuki and Mei plant seeds and later witness them grow into a giant tree in a dreamlike sequence, the tree becomes a symbol of hope, healing, and the quiet power of the earth. The tree acts as a steady and gentle guardian, silently watching over the children in their most vulnerable moments.
Miyazaki’s trees also function as portals between worlds — between the human and the spirit, the past and the present. Forests often hold wisdom, as seen in Spirited Away, where the overgrown, spirit-filled bathhouse realm suggests a forgotten, overbuilt natural world lying just beneath the surface of modern life.
Through these depictions, Miyazaki subtly critiques industrialization and disconnection from nature, urging viewers to reconsider their relationship with the land. Trees in his films remind us that the health of the world — and our own inner peace — is deeply rooted in the forests we so often take for granted. Miyazaki, known for his environmentalism, has said, “When man upsets the balance of the world, the forest makes great sacrifices to restore it.”
What’s remarkable, in turn, is how My Neighbor Totoro, a work of fantasy and wonder, rippled into reality. Moved by the film, communities in Japan rallied to preserve the Sayama Hills where Totoro’s forest was imagined. The film became a catalyst, a call to conservation. It whispered to viewers, “Pay attention, the trees are speaking.”
Still from City of Trees
Rooted in Justice
In contrast, City of Trees presents trees as another kind of portal. Here, trees are not magical spirits but symbols of resilience. Planting them becomes a way to reclaim dignity, to fight for belonging in neighborhoods that have too often been overlooked. The film reminds us that every tree planted in a city carries a story larger than its roots — planting a tree in a city can be an act of justice as much as an act of care.
As relatively new residents of Washington, D.C., Brandon and Lance Kramer offer a quiet yet powerful lens into the lives of individuals seeking second chances, purpose, and environmental justice through a green jobs training program in the Capital City. At its heart, City of Trees is about more than trees — it’s about transformation.
Early on, the film introduces the concept of urban forestry, which covers the management, restoration, and improvement of urban forest ecosystems. “We are an urban area, and yet we do have forests here. People think that’s kind of funny, you think of trees being out in the country or in the suburbs. But we still have the same needs to take care of our trees.” People working in the field encourage and promote the creation of healthier, more livable urban environments across the nation.
What sounds like a simple goal of putting people back to work by planting trees in a blighted neighborhood becomes complicated by local racial tensions, a community’s entrenched distrust of outsiders, and a fast-approaching deadline before the grant money runs out. Filmed over the course of more than two years, City of Trees thrusts viewers into the inspiring but untidy world of job training and the paradoxes changemakers face in urban communities every day.
And where trees get planted is equally important. Ensuring that the communities most affected are included in decision-making, that tree projects respect local residents’ needs, address concerns, and avoid top-down approaches is the one of the hard parts. Steve Coleman, a key protagonist and grassroots environmental activist who directs the organization and three employees in the film, states, “There is no reason why this neighborhood deserves any less standards than any other place in the city, and that’s why we’re here.”
Still from City of Trees
What makes the film especially compelling is its honesty. It doesn’t sugarcoat the systemic barriers faced by the trainees, nor does it present the green jobs movement as a flawless solution. Instead, it invites audiences to consider the complexity of social and environmental change — how both require sustained effort, trust-building, and policy support. For those watching, this raw portrayal can be deeply motivating. It raises questions like: How can we support programs that connect people to both nature and meaningful work?
Like many projects championed and mentored by Chicago-based Kartemquin Films, City of Trees exists as more than a documentary — it’s an invitation to take action. Witnessing something as simple as digging a hole and placing a sapling can restore not only neighborhoods, but also hope and purpose in people’s lives. Charles tells us, “I never knew how much I had to live for, what I was putting on the line. I never knew it, until I got into a job where I saw how much they cared so much about the earth. If they care so much about the earth, why don’t I care about myself as much as they care about planting a tree?”
This grounded, emotional storytelling inspires us to see tree planting not just as environmental work, but as a form of civic engagement — one that also brings beauty, shade, and renewal to neglected spaces. It shows us what real change can look like and reminds us that healing the planet and healing communities can — and should — go hand in hand.
Urban forestry is becoming increasingly focused on how to engage people and the way they intersect with the needs and care of trees in an urban city. Community-based nonprofits, civic organizations, and city agencies are already supporting thousands of our nation’s trees, parks, and public green spaces.
How can we not support local job training initiatives, advocate for green infrastructure investments, or even volunteer in urban forestry projects?
CanopyBloomington volunteers plant a tree
Stories to Inspire Action
Placed side by side, these two films seem worlds apart. Yet together they suggest something profound: that planting and caring for trees is both an act of imagination and an act of social justice. CanopyBloomington is offering exactly that opportunity through its fall neighborhood plantings and celebrations. Audience members can step directly from the theater into a neighborhood, helping plant trees and becoming part of Bloomington’s own urban forest story.
This season, volunteers and neighborhood residents will join together to plant trees, share food, and celebrate community:
- Saturday, October 18 | 9am – 1pm | Waterman
- Saturday, October 25 | 9am – 1pm | Near West Side
- Saturday, November 8 | 9am – 1pm | Pigeon Hill
Comprising the film series Knowing and Growing Your Urban Forest, My Neighbor Totoro will screen at IU Cinema on September 30 at 7pm and City of Trees will screen on October 7 at 7pm with a post-film Q&A. This series is presented by IU Cinema, CanopyBloomington, Center for Documentary Research and Practice, Environmental Futures, Environment, Society & Sustainability Institute, ReWild, City of Bloomington’s Office of Sustainability, Urban Greenspace and Urban Forestry Teams, Environmental Resilience Institute, and others. This series is supported through IU Cinema’s Creative Collaborations program.
CanopyBloomington is a social impact organization created to maximize Bloomington’s tree canopy and sustainably manage Bloomington’s urban forest for trees’ many environmental, health, economic, and social benefits, with a focus on tree equity and community engagement. The staff, board, and volunteers work year-round to plant and care for trees, improve air and water quality, and make neighborhoods healthier and more beautiful.
Jon Vickers is the founding director emeritus of IU Cinema. His tenure included ‘building community’ through film experiences since the early 1990s, having opened and built programs for three thriving art cinemas in the Midwest. Favorite film: Dead Man (Jim Jarmusch, 1995).