Studio Ghibli: A Foreigners Perspective (Part 1)

I was a bit late to the Studio Ghibli appreciation party. Despite my deep-rooted love for cinema, it wasn’t until my early 20s that I first laid eyes on the esteemed studios eclectic body of work. Then, like dominos, viewing after viewing followed suit, as I fell in love with the unique and captivating form of storytelling on display.

My first foray into Studio Ghibli was Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki 2001), the much beloved, culture-crossing, coming of age tale that arguably defined the studio in the Western world. It was the film that sparked the creation of English-dubbed versions, as John Lassiter (a fan and friend of Miyazaki) convinced Walt Disney Pictures to buy distribution rights.

Credit: Studio Ghibli

If we are to look past the films more candid qualities, such as its intricately conceived animation, deceptively dark storyline and acutely choreographed score, it’s the indifference towards context that is the films most intriguing feature. The infamous character of No-Face is portrayed with very little explanation of his oddly intriguing character; we accept that Haku can seemingly turn into a dragon at will; the Radish Spirit is, simply, the Radish Spirit. In short, its characters and narratives are compelling and creatively inspired enough that there’s simply no need for unnecessary exploration. The story takes place in the present; the here and now; the spirit world, and makes no intention to drift elsewhere. Why? Because the film trusts in its audience.

Too often in Western cinema are we obsessed with applying reason and understanding to any given concept. We’ve seen franchises born from spin-offs and a lack of originality, usually conceived as a veiled attempt to humanise and oversimplify a specific character or creature. The end result is invariably baffling; a disingenuous means of force-feeding content to an unassuming audience.

From this writers perspective, Studio Ghibli films are almost a throwback to the famous Disney films of yesteryear; beautifully hand-drawn, animated features that tackle complex and mature subject matters, appealing equally to children and adults alike. Insights such as these can be plucked readily from Princess Mononoke (Hayao Miyazaki 1997), an epic adventure tale of war with universally empathetic themes.

Credit: Studio Ghibli

Exiled prince Ashitaka finds himself in the middle of a war between the forest gods and Tatara, a mining colony. We follow the narrative from an equal perspective as an abundance of dynamic characters offer insight into both sides. It’s an unusually perceptive style of storytelling, relying on a sense of balance to address conceptions of good and evil.

Looking back, it struck me almost immediately how coherently the film tackled universally empathetic themes. The visual aesthetic ties in beautifully with Japanese historic culture and mythology, concepts seemingly alien to an audience member raised on a diet of American auteurs, nostalgia and British social realism. Yet, there I sat, mesmerised; hook line and sinker; emotionally connected to poignant and epic themes that transcended the boundaries of relative culture.

What I witnessed was the battle between human survival and nature; the battle of man and his sense of self as he loses his connection to the natural world; a warning as to the danger of capitalism and industry. These are cross-cultural, relevant themes that exist on a fairly profound scale in the modern world.

To disregard these films, therefore, as simple anime would be foolish. Their success in Europe and North America is a surefire testament to that. The blending of mature subject matter and more childish imagination is simply the philosophy of Studio Ghibli and, in particular, Miyazaki’s work. It was in 2013 that he offered something a little different.

Part 2 coming next week, curious reader.