I went into Porco Rosso with modest expectations, not entirely sure what to make of a film about a World War I fighter pilot who, as part of the story, is cursed to live in the body of a pig. What I found, though, was a surprisingly rich and layered experience—one that blended whimsical fantasy with poignant historical context, and mixed lighthearted action with a deeper emotional resonance than I anticipated.
The premise is undeniably odd: Porco, once a dashing Italian ace, now flies his seaplane through the Adriatic skies as a bounty hunter, with the head of a pig and the soul of a weary man. Yet rather than being played for laughs or absurdity, his condition becomes a quiet metaphor for disillusionment—especially with the rise of fascism in interwar Europe. It’s this subtle grounding in historical reality that gives the film a weight I didn’t expect. You can feel the undercurrent of something darker behind the sunlit beaches and barroom brawls.
Still, Porco Rosso is far from a dour film. It’s full of romance—not just in the traditional sense, though there is a charming thread of unresolved affection between Porco and Gina, the lounge singer with a history of lost loves—but in the classical sense: romance as adventure, idealism, and the bittersweet beauty of a bygone age. There’s aerial dogfighting, rival pilots full of bluster, and a teenage engineer named Fio who injects the story with optimism and energy. The characters, for all their stylized quirks, behave in ways that feel emotionally honest. Their reactions to the strange and extraordinary circumstances around them are believable enough to keep you grounded, even when the story takes flight.
What stood out most was how the film juggled its tones so gracefully. It’s funny and melancholic, fantastical and political, light and layered. Director Hayao Miyazaki doesn’t spell everything out—there are moments of quiet ambiguity and open-ended reflection—but that’s part of what makes it linger. Underneath the charm and sky-blue vistas lies a subtle critique of nationalism, the cost of war, and the erosion of personal honor in a shifting world.
In short, Porco Rosso is far more than a story about a pig who flies. It’s a gorgeously animated, surprisingly moving tale that captures both the absurdity and nobility of its main character’s struggle—not just with his outer form, but with the world he no longer quite fits into. I didn’t expect to love it, but by the end, I was completely won over.
