Studio Ghibli Retrospective 1

The year was 2010. I was 20, and about to enter my third year of university. Having experienced a strike in my freshman year, a draining Summer holiday and a second year that was equally draining, I was-quite literally-considering dropping out of school. Additionally, I’d lost my post-graduate scholarship, was depressed and had mental health issues that hadn’t been diagnosed yet. In short, my life was a nightmare.

It was also the year that I first watched that copy of Spirited Away that was lying around the house.

I’ve mentioned before how Studio Ghibli has helped me personally, so I won’t rehash that. Yet it’s been 9 years, and given that their biggest name has another film in the pipeline, I figured I’d use December to share how their works have impacted me. I’ll try to keep my thoughts as spoiler-free as possible, though I can’t promise anything.

I. Introduction

Hayao Miyazaki was born on January 5th, 1941 in Tokyo. The second-eldest of four boys, Miyazaki spent much of his childhood with an ailing mother. His father was also an airplane manufacturer, which left an impact on him. But it was his obsession with Manga and animation, particularly that of Walt Disney, that really spoke to him, convincing him to pursue a career in both. He graduated from Gankushuin University with degrees in political science and economics in 1963, eventually coming to Toei Animation as a grunt animator.

Isao Takahata was born on October 29th, 1935 in Ujiyamada. The youngest of seven, Takahata lived through WWII, including the bombing of Okayama. After graduating from Tokyo University with a degree in French literature, in 1959, Takahata was introduced to The King and the Mockingbird. It’s this film that’s said to have sparked his interest in animation, leading him to Toei Animation as well.

I mention these stories as context for how Miyazaki and Takahata met. Despite having different backgrounds, the two eventually collaborated on Takahata’s directorial debut, Hols: Prince of the Sun in 1968 and become lifelong friends. Their friendship would last through several career changes and the eventual founding of Studio Ghibli in 1985. And perhaps that was for the best, as Hols: Prince of the Sun wasn’t the hit Toei wanted and forced both of them to go their own ways.

But that’s okay, because it began what’d culminate in Studio Ghibli’s foundation anyway.

II. The Castle of Cagliostro

This was Hayao Miyazaki’s first feature film. Depsite Miyazaki having well over a decade of animation experience at this point, this is considered his “big break”. Fortunately, unlike Takahata, The Castle of Cagliostro, based on the popular Lupin III series, would fare much better in both reception and sales. But does that mean that it holds up now?

Well…yes. It’s not the best action movie out there, though Steven Spielberg argues otherwise (allegedly), but given what Miyazaki and TMS Animation were able to do in less than a year, and on a tight budget, it’s really impressive. The animation, though limited, is fluid and expressive, the minimalistic music helps with the atmosphere and it’s funny and clever despite being self-contained. It’s also been a big influence on Western animation, including The Great Mouse Detective and Batman: The Animated Series.

That said, the movie took a while to click with me. I bought it at HMV because it had Miyazaki’s name attached, but my initial viewing left me bored and disappointed by how slow and simplistic it was. I nearly turned it off partway, stopping myself only because I felt like giving it a fair chance. I ended up being slightly satisfied, but only subsequent watches have helped me appreciate it for what it is.

I think the little details are what warmed me to it over time. The Castle of Cagliostro’s self-contained, but it has lots of big and little details that make it special. Details like how the castle has clearly-defined geography, or how Lupin’s fake-out ring that he hands back to Lady Clarisse is foreshadowed earlier, can be overlooked the first or second times because of what’s happening on-screen, but they allow for fun tidbits to return to. But there are also noticeable details that grab you immediately, like how Lupin and Jigen are able to defy physics in the opening. That blend of gravity defying stunts and grounded realism allows me to accept wacky injuries and crazy jumps, yet still question Lupin getting over his amnesia so quickly.

That’s the movie in a nutshell: silly, yet fun. I know long-time fans of the series often single it out for deviating from the “Robin Hood-meets-James Bond” style characters are famous for, but I think it works in its favour. Especially with Lupin, who’s been upgraded from predatory goofball to charming thief. It’s not really for everyone, and I still think Goemon is under-utilized, but for what it’s worth, it’s worth a watch. Or maybe even two.

Oh, and Count Cagliostro, one of Miyazaki’s two conventional villains, has a brutal comeuppance.

III. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind

This film almost didn’t happen. Initially, Hayao Miyazaki pitched a feature-length film to Tokuma Shoten. However, because no one would bankroll an original project, Miyazaki was forced to start a Manga instead. It was only once the partway-completed work was shown again that Miyazaki, now in his 40’s, received the okay to make his film. And he did.

Due to time and budget restraints, Miyazaki chose the first volume-and-a-bit of the Manga. But he was determined, alongside his small team of animators, to make this a reality. So when Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind debuted to critical and fan praise, it was a huge relief. The gamble paid off, and the movie’s still regarded by many as one of his best. Not bad for a budget (allegedly) on-par with an episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender, huh?

There’s a lot to unpack thematically, but the biggest ones are nostalgia and environmentalism. The former is shown mostly through its keyboard and electronica music, composed by Joe Hisaishi, and having a wide-eyed, pacifist princess as the protagonist. Nausicaä could easily wipe out an entire army on her own, but she chooses the path of least resistance. She doesn’t want war, despite it being brought to her by force, but peace. She wants harmony between all races, humans and insects alike, essentially.

The environmental component is a huge part of this movie. It’s easy to be cynical about environmental movies, since they’re usually cheap and hacky in nature, but even in 1984 there was a certain level of nuance and tact to this one’s writing. The film isn’t subtle in its message about protecting the Earth, but it’s layered. It strives for balance while showing how hard that is through antagonists like Princess Kushana, and it succeeds.

Melding everything together is how this movie caters to emotion. Like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, much about the story doesn’t make sense: why was Kushana sent to collect The God Warrior if she knew it couldn’t be taken back to Tolmekkia? How do the Ohmu know how to heal Nausicaä’s wounds if it wasn’t established prior that they could do that? How can the Ohmu read minds? And how is Nausicaä’s Jesus moment at the end, one that’s immediately undermined via a deus ex machina, responsible for fixing the world? You’re never given answers, but your emotions fill in the responses.

Speaking of which, the movie’s draining. Between the moments where people die and Nausicaä cries, expect your tear ducts to be crusted over by the finale. That’s intentional, though, as you’re meant to feel that way. And, in this instance, it doesn’t feel cheap or manipulative.

That’s the best summation I can give: emotionally draining, yet incredibly satisfying. The film, like I said, was a big hit, allowing Hayao Miyazaki to become a household name. But since it was also hampered by a short production, Miyazaki decided it was time to work independently of the studio system. Thus, in 1985, Studio Ghibli was officially founded!

(To be continued.)