the thing about hayao miyazaki's films is that they don't try to make sense except on the basest level. the teacups are painstakingly done, as are the books and the candlestick holders, all wonderfully realistic, and then they're mashed together exponentially with fifty million other things to the point that the room becomes absurd.
it's as though he understands that what he's making isn't real life, and if it isn't, then by all means he will go completely in the opposite direction. as if to say, look how much this isn't real.
some of that scenery....goddamn
'cept for ponyo. that shit was cray, and i can't even begin to rationalize any of it.