The fantasy-adventure genre is very common among movies and literature aimed at children, because it serves as a perfect metaphor for growing up. These stories often involve kids traveling to far, unknown fantasy lands where they must adapt and learn how to survive in. And by overcoming obstacles, they become masters of their environment and mature as characters, reflecting the transition from adolescence to adulthood. The genre is so popular that it has coalesced into a series of chosen one cliches, ultimate good versus ultimate evil plotlines, and Mary Sue character tropes.
But one studio has continuously surprised audiences with its lush, colorful animation and deeply heart-felt stories: the critically acclaimed and internationally beloved Studio Ghibli. Based in Japan, this animation studio has entertained both children and adults since its founding in the mid-’80s by directors Hayao Miyazaki, Isao Takahata, and producer Toshio Suzuki. Their movies just feel different, especially for western audiences, and often contain deep, complex themes that children may not understand. Therefore, by analyzing selected works from their principal director, Hayao Miyazaki, this article will identify some of the ways Studio Ghibli stands out from other fantasy-adventure movies in the West and East.
Child Protagonists in Spirited Away
Writing young characters is hard. Children don’t do the same things as adults do, making plotlines involving them difficult to justify. Therefore, some writers tend to “mature” the characters early and treat them like little adults. They act bravely, willingly jump into danger, have firm moral compasses, and don’t whine and complain all the time like real children. I for one can’t imagine myself doing the same things Harry Potter and his friends do as a ten-year-old. And although Miyazaki arguably does the same thing, his characters often show a greater level of vulnerability more accurate to children.
One of the most memorable scenes in 2001’s Spirited Away is when Chihiro cries in the garden. The context goes as follows: ten-year-old Chihiro is transported to the spirit world where her parents are magically turned into pigs and in order to save them and return home, she must work at the evil witch Yubaba’s bathhouse. A friendly spirit, Haku, helps Chihiro and shows her the pen her parents are being kept in. Upon seeing them, she breaks down and begins to cry.
What’s interesting about this scene is that Miyazaki doesn’t cut away. The camera lingers on Chihiro for an almost uncomfortable amount of time as the music swells and the tears fall from her face. The audience is there to witness her lowest moment and the film shows it in its entirety. This serves as a turning point when Chihiro fully realizes that this isn’t a dream. She’s stuck here for the long run and will have to make many difficult decisions to get back home.
Child protagonists can become homesick. They can even be reluctant heroes refusing the overwhelming burden fate has thrust upon them. But rarely do they ever show vulnerability on this level. Spirited Away‘s main character is not a traditional hero— she’s not fighting evil, she’s not the chosen one, and she’s definitely not strong or resilient to begin with. She’s just a scared little kid in a terrifyingly big world, and that’s what people can relate to. By seeing her weaknesses, her most vulnerable moments, and where she begins, treating her as a child, it makes her character arc much more powerful and triumphant.
Morality in Princess Mononoke
Some children’s movies have a misanthropic outlook. A popular trope is having mythical or anthropomorphic creatures be resentful of mankind translating into an indictment of humanity’s ills like war, greed, and prejudice. There is always a human character raised by wild animals, and therefore, identifies as one and hates other humans. This also makes for a great environmental message: human beings were the bad guys all along, damaging the planet with their greed and selfishness. One of the major themes in almost all of Miyazaki’s films is a strong environmentalism, a theme he shares with many other movies like Pixar’s Wall-E. But here too he stands out, applying a moral nuance and complexity uncommon in western children’s literature. He doesn’t simply show a dichotomy of good versus evil, green nature versus black industry, or animals versus humans. Instead, he shows the good and bad of both.
In Princess Mononoke, Miyazaki frames the narrative around an epic war between humans and nature: the people of Iron Town infringe upon the surrounding forest with their industrialization and the forest spirits fight back. Caught in the middle is Prince Ashitaka, who is trying to find a cure for a curse laid upon his village, and Sen, a human girl raised by the wolf-god.
And many of the environmental themes come in the form of Sen. It would have been easy to make her a strong woman archetype and unquestionable defender of nature, but she is shown to be brash, aggressive, and violent. She is mirrored by the antagonist, the ambitious leader of Iron Town, Lady Eboshi, as both are willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want. They are two sides of the same coin. When they fight in the middle of the movie, Ashitaka has to break them up and announces to the people, “Look, everyone! This is what hatred looks like! This is what it does when it catches hold of you!” Furthermore, Iron Town, the supposed antagonists, is a shelter for women, lepers, and other outcasts of society who praise Lady Eboshi for giving them a second chance. Ashitaka’s interactions with them prove that they are decent people just trying to survive and are worthy of audience sympathy. Industrialization and modernity saved them creating a flourishing community and better living conditions, but at the cost of exploiting nature for its resources.
Most movies, especially western ones, would have simply demonized mankind’s exploitation of nature. While Princess Mononoke doesn’t excuse it, it understands the benefits of modernity and the reasons behind it. It understands that human beings, in their own invasive ways, are a part of nature who must respect it and find a balance along with their individual place in it. When Neil Gaiman adapted the movie for western audiences, American studios were confused on who the bad guy was, to which Gaiman replied, “Miyazaki built a film in which there are no bad guys. There are only consequences.”
Independence in Kiki’s Delivery Service
Out of all of Miyazaki’s films, the one most directly about growing up is probably Kiki’s Delivery Service in which a thirteen-year-old witch, as per their tradition, must spend a year of independent life away from her family. She arrives in an ocean-side city and in order to make money, she starts her own delivery service flying around on her broom. But for a film that revolves around sorcery and stars a witch and her talking cat, Jiji, there’s not much magic involved. There are no bright sparks shooting out of wands, not many potions are made, and the only real magic that is shown is Kiki flying but most of the time it lacks spectacle.
The real heart of the film lies in Kiki’s struggles with moving to a new place, experiencing loneliness, and trying to be self-sufficient. At first, she’s ecstatic to grow up and prove herself, but upon arriving, she quickly discovers that independence isn’t what she imagined. She can’t find decent lodging, she can’t pay for the things she wants, her business won’t start up, she has to sacrifice personal fulfillment for her job, and above all, she’s alone. She does befriend a local boy named Tombo, but upon seeing him with his own friends, Kiki is overwhelmed by feelings of loneliness. She feels different from everyone else and can’t connect. She’s an outsider looking in, causing her to self-isolate even more.
There is an immense feeling of sadness and melancholy that continuously grows in the film despite the bright colors and fun premise. Kiki eventually loses her magic, which is tied to her inner spirit, until she can’t fly anymore. Flying, which once brought her so much joy, is no longer fun as it’s a part of the job she does for money. It’s a perfect symbol for the demands of modern work and how one can lose their passion when it’s tied to necessity and monetary value, whether that be writing, art, or animation.
Only after spending some time with a local artist, Ursula, does Kiki begin to feel better. Ursula tells Kiki to just take a break and not push herself too hard, and then her passion and motivation will come back to her. With this in mind, Kiki then has the confidence to go on and face the finale of the film.
Kiki’s Delivery Service is surprisingly mundane for a fantasy movie. Most other filmmakers would have mined the premise of a witch in the modern world for all its spectacle, but Miyazaki takes a different approach, one that’s more down to earth and relatable. Its themes of burnout, loneliness, and self-sufficiency are very applicable to college students and young adults about to embark on their own year of independence.
Conclusion
Children’s movies are too often brushed aside as unartistic, uninspired, and mindless entertainment for kids, but they can tell a lot about a society as their themes contain the virtues parents want to pass on: justice, morality, courage. These films are designed to help children grow and be prepared for the scary adult world, and Studio Ghibli is no different. With their unique approach to storytelling, memorable female characters, and rich themes, Miyazaki and his contemporaries are able to create movies that children can enjoy but adults can understand. They stand out not only in the West but also the East.
Furthermore, some studios are too afraid of their young audiences. They underestimate children’s capacity to learn and pay attention causing them to oversimplify and rely on cliches and spectacle. But Studio Ghibli refuses, much to the confusion and skepticism of other filmmakers— their first movie, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, was butchered by American distributors who cut out large portions to better fit American audiences, renaming it Warriors of the Wind. Miramax was about to do the same to Princess Mononoke, but Miyazaki and his team vehemently refused. The story goes that Toshio Suzuki sent a katana to Miramax with the words “NO CUTS” engraved in the blade to show how serious they were.
And although this article has failed to mention many other great movies, especially by Isao Takahata and others, the sentiment is still the same: Studio Ghibli doesn’t talk down to children, it challenges them to think of a world that could be. They don’t present simplified fantasy lands devoid of suffering but rather reflections of the real world filled with complexities, sorrow, and grief. And by confronting these realities, they help both children and adults become more confident in this crazy, illogical, and fantastical world.