Studio Ghibli films have always had a special place in the childhoods of those who grew up watching them. Whether it was hopping on a Catbus on a rainy day (My Neighbour Totoro, 1988), soaring above the clouds on a broom to deliver freshly baked goods (Kiki’s Delivery Service, 1989), or warily eyeing the pigs outside a bathhouse (Spirited Away, 2001) — these are the images that stay with you long after the screen goes dark.
Totoro seated at the ticket booth of the Ghibli Museum in Mitaka, Japan
| Photo Credit:
Rudraa Sudarshan
The animation studio, which recently turned 40, continues to be in the spotlight. Recently, Studio Ghibli’s popularity has skyrocketed and, like most animated styles, it has progressed into mainstream media — with people flaunting its merchandise, available in stores and on the pavements of most Indian metros. Ghibli films are regularly screened in these cities, too. Most recently, AI can now mimic the style with unsettling accuracy. The irony — that every Studio Ghibli film takes years to bring to life, with each frame painstakingly hand-drawn, and that Hayao Miyazaki himself is famously anti-AI — seems to be lost on users as they upload their photos for a Ghibli-style render.
Behind the longevity
But what is it about Studio Ghibli’s creations that captures public imagination? Is it the animated worlds that are simple and uncomplicated; the protagonists who are easy to empathise with; intricate depictions of sweeping mountains, mechanical castles, and lush green forests; or the unmistakable expressions of joy, sadness, anger, frustration, and disappointment etched into the expressive faces of its characters?
There is no black and white in Ghibli’s worlds — the villains have their reasons and are always redeemable. Maybe it’s the feeling of nostalgia, the sense of familiarity, the childhood memories stored deep in the recesses of your mind, and the emotions they evoke. All of this contributes to Studio Ghibli’s universal appeal.
A man sitting next to the character No Face from the Studio Ghibli film Spirited Away
| Photo Credit:
AFP
Of course, one could take a more cynical view and attribute the recent burst in popularity and interest to the aesthetic churned out by algorithms. Either way, there’s something about Studio Ghibli that clings to your mind like a particularly stubborn soot sprite. Perhaps it’s because beneath the deceptively simple narratives lie deeper themes that offer profound philosophical food for thought.
Miyazaki and modernisation
Miyazaki’s disdain for technology and modernisation is evident throughout his films. He has famously stated that “modern life is so thin and shallow and fake — I look forward to when developers go bankrupt, Japan gets poorer and wild grasses take over”. While this vision may not reflect reality, he weaves this imagery into his films, particularly in Princess Mononoke, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, and My Neighbour Totoro, where forests abound and grasslands stretch endlessly.
Oscar-winning Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki
| Photo Credit:
AFP
Princess Mononoke centres on environmentalism, portraying it in a way that forces the viewer to confront the inevitability of industrialisation. As much as one may not want it to happen, it must — and finding a middle ground becomes the only viable solution. Nausicaä, meanwhile, navigates a world transformed into a toxic wasteland, as she searches for a solution.
Both San (Princess Mononoke) and Nausicaä inhabit worlds scarred by war. While San, the wolf princess, fights to protect her beloved home from further deforestation and industrialisation, Nausicaä takes a more peaceful approach. In Howl’s Moving Castle, themes of pacifism are more explicit, set against the constant echoes of war that linger throughout the film. Despite Howl’s abhorrence of war, the wizard is forced to become a tool of destruction, even at the cost of losing his humanity. The image of Sophie, the protagonist, standing in a meadow of flowers while war rages around her highlights the stark contrast between the ugliness of war and the fragile beauty of nature.
Strong, fearless women
Most of Ghibli’s films feature female protagonists — whether children like Satsuki and Mei (My Neighbour Totoro), Kiki (Kiki’s Delivery Service), and Chihiro (Spirited Away); young women like Nausicaä and San; or even Sophie (Howl’s Moving Castle), who ages and then returns to youth.
Chihiro from Spirited Away
Unlike Disney’s princesses, they are their own knights in shining armour, facing the world head on. All of them demonstrate resilience, courage, and an unyielding hope. No matter how daunting the task or how bleak the future, they either find a silver lining or create one themselves. The younger protagonists especially show wisdom beyond their years, yet paradoxically retain their innocence and wide-eyed wonder. It is not that Ghibli lacks male protagonists, but rather that they inevitably fall short in comparison.
Drawing from life
Miyazaki, like many artists, often draws inspiration from real-life experiences. For instance, he travelled to Alsace, France, to study European architecture and aesthetics for Howl’s Moving Castle. He also sent his animators to the vet to observe how to give medicine to a dog, which they then translated into animating a dragon in Spirited Away.
There’s a recurring theme of chronic illness in several of Miyazaki’s films. In The Wind Rises, we meet Naoko, who suffers from tuberculosis. In My Neighbour Totoro, Satsuki and Mei’s mother is hospitalised while the sisters explore Totoro’s forest. This mirrors Miyazaki’s own childhood experience, when his mother was hospitalised due to spinal tuberculosis.
My Neighbour Totoro
Despite theories about the underlying symbolism in his films, Miyazaki’s stance is clear: “I don’t have much patience for calculating and intellectualising anymore. It has to do with the times. Nobody knows everything. Nobody knows what’s going to happen. So, my conclusion is, don’t try to be too smart and wise. Why does anybody feel the way they do? Why is somebody depressed? Or angry? Even if you have a therapist, you’re never going to figure it out. You’re not going to solve it.”
Contrary to rumours of his imminent retirement after The Boy and the Heron, Miyazaki, now 84, shows no sign of slowing down. Since his films are hand-drawn, it’s understandable that they take years to complete. If Clint Eastwood can continue directing films at 95, then what’s stopping Miyazaki?
The writer and journalist is based in Mumbai.
Published – June 28, 2025 12:29 pm IST
