On Kiki's Delivery Service and Creative Burnout

Being an adult with a disability is frustrating. Despite having a social security net, I still regularly feel life burnout. Even with two part-time jobs, I routinely struggle with budgeting and constant feelings of inadequacy. It doesn’t help that I have addiction issues and anxiety, either. These complications routinely creep into my writing, making something I otherwise love doing feel like a chore.

This is why film, particularly the works of Studio Ghibli, has been so empowering. A while back, I wrote a piece discussing the relationship I have with Hayao Miyazaki and his studio, having discovered their work as an adult. I’d have more nostalgia if I found them as a child, but seeing them in my 20’s allows me to appreciate their subtexts. This is definitely true for Kiki’s Delivery Service, a movie that, while not my favourite, has resonated strongly as a creative trying to mark his mark.

Kiki’s Delivery Service is the story of a 13 year-old witch, Kiki, who leaves home to refine her magic. Settling in town of Koriko, she meets a kind, pregnant woman named Osono, who, with her busy husband, runs the city’s bakery. She and Kiki set up a delivery service inside said bakery, operated entirely by Kiki herself. She’s initially excited, but as the stress of work begins setting in, Kiki realizes that she may be in over her head.

What makes this movie work is how human it feels. Kiki’s Delivery Service, essentially, portrays the working experience in an authentic and genuine manner. There’s something surprisingly on-point about losing packages because of unforeseen circumstances, or even helping to deliver a personalized gift, only to be rudely shafted by its recipient. Even Kiki’s frustrations surrounding her inability to fly, or no longer understanding her cat, that surface in the second-half feel real and troubling. As someone whose first real job was as a courier, this hits home really hard.

So does the burnout that Kiki experiences. There’ve been many instances where I’ve doubted my own writing abilities and felt like giving up because of it. And not only as a blogger or casual writer, either. I’m currently trying to write a graphic novel, which has been a passion project of mine for close to three years. I have a finished script, but the refining and funding process has proven tedious and frustrating. My first editor, whom I’m incredibly grateful for, also cost me a lot more money to compensate than I initially thought. This doesn’t account for later revisions that’ll inevitably take place, either.

In Kiki’s Delivery Service, shortly after losing her magic, Kiki asks for time off to go camping with Ursula in the woods. Ignoring how unrealistically nonchalant Osono is about it, this allows Kiki time for self-care. She models for Ursula’s next portrait, and she listens to Ursula’s own stories about burnout. Ursula, essentially, explains how talent is self-motivated. It can’t simply happen, you need to find the right spark. This spark eventually comes when Kiki’s forced to save her friend, Tombo, from falling to his death. She struggles with her own inadequacies, both literally and metaphorically, to do this.

While I’ve never been in Kiki’s situation to help rekindle my creative spark, her fight with herself is still a universal one. Far too often, our greatest critic is us. We feel we’re not worthy of respect or adoration, and it makes us feel awful. When Kiki’s broom breaks, that hurts to watch. And when she’s flapping about rescuing Tombo, I’m on the edge of my seat. Forget any and all Hollywood blockbusters, Kiki trying to rescue Tombo makes me anxious!

What makes Kiki’s Delivery Serivce work is that it’s the “creator’s dream” film. How ironic, given the behind-the-scenes complications that arose during production. Hayao Miyazaki wasn’t even originally supposed to be the director, only taking on the role because he didn’t feel like it was working. The film was retooled in a year, with large chunks of the storyboarding reworked on the fly. The budget was tight, and certain shortcuts, like shortening the length of Kiki’s hair, were almost necessary. The movie was also allegedly stopped partway through production when the source book’s author expressed dissatisfaction over the adaptation, only changing her mind after visiting Studio Ghibli. And Studio Ghibli’s parent company was threatening to pull support to the studio should the movie fail at the box-office, having already had several financial flops under their belt.

I’m not surprised, therefore, that the end-product was a film about a teenager who doubts her own abilities. It feels semi-autobiographical in that way, fitting for a studio that takes such big gambles. But such is the nature of Studio Ghibli films. If Whisper of the Heart celebrates the spirit of creativity, a coming-of-age tale for any visionary artist, then Kiki’s Delivery Service is its companion piece, showing how it’s not always that simple. It recognizes that the youthful experience is trying, routinely results in burnout and should be treated with respect and dignity. This is, in essence, the definitive movie about work stress.

Oh, and Jiji’s also the funniest character in a Miyazaki film. I thought I’d point that out. (Rest in peace, Phil Hartman.)