Transgenerational Yearning for the Magical Realism of Studio Ghibli

Words by Iris Beck

“Is someone different at age 18 or 60? I believe one stays the same.” - Hayao Miyazaki

Japanese animation company Studio Ghibli has created a highly decorated repertoire of films for over four decades that have come to occupy a prideful place in not only the world of animation, but across international cinema as well. Often their work is first identified through the company’s distinction, as audiences can almost universally recognise ‘Studio Ghibli’ as a household name that signifies a standalone genre in and of itself, likely filled with the most detailed hand-drawn animation, mesmerising storytelling, and themes that relate to so many dimensions of the human experience. Alongside the name, Studio Ghibli is often associated with the figure of Hayao Miyazaki, one of the studio’s major founders and directors often considered to be the mastermind behind some of their most popular stories. The appeal of both Ghibli’s animation and Miyazaki’s narratives often calls most strongly to children, yet Ghibli has avoided any limitation in creating stories only ‘for kids’; when a Ghibli film takes root in the heart of an audience member, it often becomes beloved for life.

My Neighbour Totoro (1988), image courtesy of Studio Ghibli’s official website ghibli.jp

I grew up watching Studio Ghibli films, and consider many personal lessons learnt through the multi-dimensional themes one can find in each story:

• War and empire will always be deeply destructive to all life–as seen in Castle in the Sky (1986), Howl’s Moving Castle (2004), and The Wind Rises (2013)

• The natural world is sacred and worthy of human protection, rather than use and destruction–as seen in Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984), Princess Mononoke (1997), and Ponyo (2008)

• Creative burnout is real and you can still possess self-worth despite this–as seen in Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989) and Whisper of the Heart (1995)

• Independence as a child is often tinged with some grief of abandonment, and sometimes losing childhood innocence is a grief that never entirely goes away–as seen in My Neighbour Totoro (1988) and Spirited Away (2001).

These themes might sound too intimidating for a child to fully understand; in many ways they can be, and calling these thematic messages what they are is something that can only be found with the maturation of age. And yet, I don’t consider myself an outlier for returning to these stories throughout my life, and with each rewatch finding something uniquely striking to my experience of moving through the world that was nevertheless always there.

Whisper of the Heart (1995), image courtesy of Studio Ghibli’s official website ghibli.jp

These humanist messages are often found somewhere between a balance of magical worldbuilding and mundanity, within what we might call magical realism–or the presentation of a realistic world with the added elements of fantasy and wonder. Some stories may reach a dramatic peak that threatens life itself, such as Princess Mononoke or Howl’s Moving Castle, whilst others take on surprisingly peaceful and humdrum plots to find their climax emotionally, as Whisper of the Heart sees its protagonist Shizuku almost collapse under the intensity of her creative identity. Yet in each story with their varying settings, Miyazaki strikes a chord in both realism and fantasy to create a stunning immersion that draws in any viewer, regardless of age or mature willingness to be absorbed into the world of the movie, as well as taking a rightful place among the moralist fairy tales of childhood. 

Miyazaki often chooses a child to take on the role of his protagonist, meaning that many of these deeper themes previously touched upon are encountered through the eyes and innocence of a child. As such, these themes not only involve their real-life effects, but also what they mean in relation to the child protagonist’s understanding of independence and maturity. Yet, each story is tinged with an open-ended hope and the resilience of the youthful spirit, that seems to inspire a spirit that can remain inside of us throughout life; not defined solely by age but through a way of perceiving the world. Sometimes, a Ghibli resolution is only found through the kind of love and courage of a childlike spirit, and this is championed above all else. Miyazaki also favours a younger female protagonist, and offers somewhat revolutionary representation in terms of the possibility each heroine possesses, and the freedom to express unique identity and personality throughout their stories.

Howl’s Moving Castle (2004), image courtesy of Studio Ghibli’s official website ghibli.jp

One of the fewer stories where Miyazaki’s lead is not a child is Howl’s Moving Castle; in fact, we encounter the very opposite through the character of Sophie, who is transformed from a young adult into an elderly lady. Her rapid ageing is undoubtedly a ‘curse’, yet despite this Sophie seems to settle into the experience of older age. She feels much more able to speak her mind, refusing to let herself be walked over by others, and although this is not a maturity gained through years of experience, her contentment and comfortability is noticeable. At times, we see insecurity emerge through the idea that the young and magical Howl could find her beautiful, which speaks to the frequent devaluation of older women across society where apparent worth is tied to beauty and youthful value. And yet, Sophie possesses remarkable spirit and resilience as an elderly lady that is comparable to the resolve of characters like Nausicaä or Ponyo, a mature strength akin to the courage of youth. Perhaps it is the way of looking at the world, not the age in which we do so, that allows us to find peace in life. 

I often worry that I spent too much of my childhood wishing to grow up sooner, then at times growing up too fast, and I don’t want to get older and feel my worth is devalued by its distance from my youth. I seek to possess the spirit that either Sophie, Nausicaä, Ponyo, or Chihiro can embody at both boundaries of middle adult life spent toiling away in the confines of society. The recent productions of Ghibli on stage in London–My Neighbour Totoro (2023) at the Barbican and Spirited Away (2024) at the London Coliseum–represent what I believe to be a phenomenon in the cultural consciousness to return to a world of magical realism many of us find within our childhood, and continue to seek throughout our lives. The press release of the Norman Rea Gallery’s upcoming Child’s Play exhibition describes what we call “an unbridled and unselfconscious display of joy” found through childlike creativity. Each time I immerse myself in the world of Studio Ghibli, I rediscover a spirit of youth within me that yearns for the unselfconsciousness of childhood, and perhaps it is through creative self-expression we can nurture such energy inside all of us. It’s not hard to imagine that the creators at Studio Ghibli may be sustaining that same youthful spirit within.

Spirited Away (2001), image courtesy of Studio Ghibli’s official website ghibli.jpv