Before I Say Goodbye: Looking Back at the Films of Hayao Miyazaki
Set to be released by Toho in Japan on July 14th is How Do You Live?, the final film from legendary writer-director and Studio Ghibli co-founder Hayao Miyazaki. The animated fantasy — titled after the the 1937 coming-of-age novel of the same name by Genzaburo Yoshino — will see a rather unconventional release, in that Studio Ghibli intentionally chose to set the level of promotion to near-nonexistent, shrouding it in maximum secrecy with nary a trailer nor even images, barring an intriguing teaser poster featuring a bird-like creature that seems to be wearing the skin of another of its kind. With this being the renowned filmmaker’s farewell, and with GKids and Fathom Events partnering up once more for the annual Ghibli Fest, I thought now would be as good a time as any to take a look back at the many significant cinematic achievements that had numerous people across the globe declaring Miyazaki to be the Walt Disney of Japan.
1) Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984)
While this isn’t Miyazaki’s first feature film (that would be 1979’s Lupin the Third adaptation, The Castle of Cagliostro), it’s important to note that this film’s critical and commercial success in its native country led directly to the creation of Studio Ghibli, so I figured this would be a perfect starting point. Adapted from Miyazaki’s own 1982 manga of the same name, this post-apocalyptic environmental fantasy is set a thousand years after a devastating war resulted in the creation of a poisonous jungle filled with giant mutant insect creatures. A teenage princess named Nausicaä soon engages in an epic struggle to achieve peace between the jungle and the human kingdom, to find a way for both parties to healthily coexist.
One of Miyazaki’s greatest gifts both as an animator and as a storyteller is how he manages to take seemingly worn-out concepts and put a creative spin on them, making said concepts fresh and new again. That gift is one-hundred percent on display in Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind. To more cynical and incurious viewers, this premise would perhaps sound like nothing more than a slightly better than average episode of Captain Planet. But how Miyazaki goes about executing it is entirely unique, from his rich and effortlessly immersive atmosphere and mythology to his wildly imaginative world-building and creature and technological designs. For just his second feature, the animation is still jaw-dropping nearly forty years later, meticulous yet bursting with great fluidity, inducing a real sense of awe and wonder, and Nausicaä is without a doubt one of the best protagonists Miyazaki’s ever crafted, full of compassion and empathy yet also fierce and determined to do the right thing, willing to sacrifice her own life if it means her goal of peace is achieved.
2) Castle in the Sky (1986)
The year after Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind was released, Studio Ghibli officially came to be, so it’s only fitting that the company’s very first production would be Miyazaki’s third feature, and what a way to make a first impression. Featuring elements adapted from Miyazaki’s own 1978 anime series Future Boy Conan, this steampunk adventure concerns a friendship between two young orphans: a plucky and diligent dreamer named Pazu and a kind-hearted but reserved princess named Sheeta, the latter of whom possesses a magical crystal. Sure enough, the two are on the run from the military, a treacherous band of air pirates, and a sinister group of government agents, all the while trying to make their way to the floating castle of Laputa (in a clever nod to the Jonathan Swift novel Gulliver’s Travels), whose existence Pazu vows to capture proof of in order to clear his father’s name and do right by him.
Like with his previous film, Miyazaki has an entirely unique way with immersing his audience into the worlds that he creates, the amount of creativity and detail put into their conception and execution so staggeringly vivid that it’s all too easy to get lost in them. It’s hard not to admire it for its ambition alone. Every character, even the most minor parts, leaves a considerable impact, whether it be our brave, wide-eyed heroes or our antagonists, whether they’re intimidatingly devious or delightfully goofy. The film also delves into environmental themes, questioning whether or not a fruitful relationship between the natural world and the technology we depend so much on can ever really come to be, whether or not we as a species can truly coexist with the environment in which we live yet we consider a mere obstacle to overcome, and Miyazaki’s way of exploring those issues does away with basic black-and-white extremes to instead craft something much more cleverly layered and provocative; in this regard, its refreshingly mature approach suggests trust in its viewers, which is something that a lot of other animated family films get terribly wrong.
3) My Neighbor Totoro (1988)
The same year Studio Ghibli released the tremendous Grave of the Fireflies, one of the most beautiful and emotionally exhausting portraits of the loss of childhood innocence and tragedies brought about by the horrors of war in the history of cinema, the company also brought forth another tale of childhood innocence, this time one of the comparatively more vibrant and gentle variety, which would come to define the studio, as the titular character would graduate into not just becoming their mascot but also becoming one of the most recognizable characters in all of animation. Miyazaki’s fourth feature concerns a university professor and his two daughters who make the move to an old country house in order to be closer to their mother, who’s currently recovering from illness. The sisters then discover that their new home and the nearby forest are surrounded by spirits and come to befriend a particularly massive spirit named Totoro.
With this film, Miyazaki sets his sights smaller than with his previous features, and it really works to his advantage. It’s a simple story, but Miyazaki fully embraces the beauty of simplicity while still letting his imagination run wild like the wind. With a smaller scale, Miyazaki lets the characters, their dynamics, and their relationships shine even more so than ever before, making them that much more meaningful and endearing, and also allows more time for his audience to soak in the wonderfully warm and laid-back atmosphere. The end result is not just a towering achievement in animation, brimming with jaw-droppingly stunning imagery and creature designs, but without a doubt in my mind one of the most gorgeous films ever made regardless of genre or medium. It’s one of those films that pulls you into a unique state of peace as you’re watching it.
4) Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989)
If there’s any film in the Studio Ghibli that potentially rivals My Neighbor Totoro as far as popularity and recognition are concerned, it would perhaps be Kiki’s Delivery Service. Adapted from the novel of the same name by Eiko Kadono, Miyazaki’s fifth feature film concerns a young girl named Kiki, a witch who has recently turned thirteen years old, the age where witches-in-training must leave their home and prove that they can make a living on their own by spending a year in a town without others of their kind. While settling in the port city of Koriko along with her talking black cat Jiji, she encounters an aviation fanatic named Tombo, befriends an artist named Ursula, and earns a job at the local bakery, delivering goods by broomstick.
Much like My Neighbor Totoro, Miyazaki goes for small and simple as opposed to vast and epic, and it really is the perfect approach to take with a story like this, just a relaxed little slice of life. The world that he and his hard-working crew bring to life here is the kind of environment you can’t help but want to live in. Kiki as a character is endlessly lovable from start to finish, and on top of that, with the struggles she eventually goes through, she’s all too relatable. We all have points in our lives when we become overwhelmed by our responsibilities, so much so that the passion we once had begins to fade and we feel burnt out, desiring a rest, at least for a little while. From the stunning animation to how Kiki is portrayed, Miyazaki captures that sense of burnout and how we can potentially cope with it and find our inspiration again in a way that brims with haunting authenticity and great empathy. Of course, how can I not mention Joe Hisaishi’s indescribably lovely music, particularly the track entitled A Town with an Ocean View, which is maybe one of the greatest pieces of music ever composed for a feature?
5) Porco Rosso (1992)
Compared to the other entries in Miyazaki’s noteworthy filmography, Porco Rosso doesn’t seem to get talked about as much, which I think is an utter shame because — while I would admittedly put it in the lower end of my ranking — it has just about everything you would desire out of a Miyazaki film and the end result is purely and simply delightful. Based on Miyazaki’s own three-part 1989 watercolor manga The Age of the Flying Boat, this aviation-based adventure comedy concerns a World War I ex-fighter pilot and freelance bounty hunter, Porco Rosso, an Italian who just so happens to have the head of a pig thanks to a curse that was placed on him. Making a living chasing sky pirates, the deep-in-debt Rosso enlists the help of his good friend Gina and high-spirited young mechanic Fio Piccolo when he’s challenged to a duel by his arrogant Texan rival Donald Curtis.
Miyazaki once again crafts a more laid-back tale than his earlier features; that being said, he also manages to pack in that same sense of adventurous excitement from his earlier films, particularly with the aerial action sequences, all of which are such a mesmerizing blast to sit through that after they’re done, you’ll feel like you need a nap. Again, even with all the action, it’s a very relaxed film, which adds to its deeply endearing charm. Miyazaki once again displays a tremendous gift for character work, especially in regards to the titular role. From the mere concept alone, he could’ve been nothing more than the butt of a tired joke, and yet in execution, on top of his memorable design, he’s arguably one of the coolest characters in all of animation. This film may very well be Miyazaki’s funniest and goofiest as well, while still expertly weaving in threads of bittersweetness and melancholy.
6) Princess Mononoke (1997)
For film buffs and common folk alike, picking a number-one favorite Miyazaki film is a positively Herculean task, especially given just how many masterful works he’s brought to us. But for my money, the epic historical fantasy Princess Mononoke not only takes the number one spot, but may very well be my favorite animated film period. It’s certainly the first film I can think of that allowed me to see animation in a brand-new light, to see it as significantly more than mere fluff for children and children only. Miyazaki’s Rosetta stone follows Ashitaka, a young warrior prince who’s stricken by a fatal curse thanks to a vicious animal attack and seeks to find a cure. While on his journey, he finds himself in the midst of a struggle between mortals and gods, between mechanization and nature, between the ruthless Lady Eboshi and the courageous San, the latter of whom was abandoned by her birth parents and raised by wolves.
Words cannot even begin to describe just how much I adore this film. Miyazaki returns to the well of combining action-packed, unrelentingly imaginative, exquisitely detail-oriented fantasy with complex themes regarding human relationships with both nature and technology, and he triumphs once more, but in the process, he also crafts what is easily his darkest and most brutal film. This is one of the few Studio Ghibli films to have received a PG-13 rating in the United States of America, and it definitely shows, as Miyazaki certainly doesn’t hold back when it comes to the action and battle sequences, which are more vicious and thrilling than the last and all of which are animated and paced flawlessly. The way each and every action beat is cut and timed puts most live-action films to complete and utter shame. Simple as its core message may be, it’s delivered in a way that brims with sincere thoughtfulness and considerable nuance, as Miyazaki always delivers on, along with his richly dynamic and unforgettable characters. One could even make the argument that this is one of Miyazaki’s most personal films, if not the most.
7) Spirited Away (2001)
If Princess Mononoke can be described as Miyazaki’s The Lord of the Rings, then Spirited Away can be described as Miyazaki’s The Wizard of Oz or Alice in Wonderland. Just when you seem unsure if he can keep it up, he pulls a smorgasbord of entirely new tricks down his sleeves, unlocking a mental crate and letting his imagination roam wild and free like an untamed gazelle. If you grew up in the early 2000’s like I have, there’s a very good chance that this film was your introduction to Miyazaki, whose story tells of a ten-year-old girl named Chihiro, who comes across an abandoned theme park with her parents, who are subsequently transformed by a witch into pigs. Chihiro then makes the discovery that the theme park is actually a town inhabited by otherworldly spirits, soon having to work in the witch’s bathhouse in order to bring her parents back to human form and return to the mortal realm.
Spirited Away is one of those rare family films that, as you’re watching it, really takes you back to when you were a kid again, as it thrives on creativity, atmosphere, and childlike wonder like those form its collective life source. It’s just downright magical, from its luminous and ethereal musical score to its truly magnificent visuals and world-building, and the way in which Miyazaki juggles varying tones like a certified pro is unbelievable. It’s fantastic yet Gothic, sweet yet dark, hilarious yet tragic and even often deeply frightening and intense. How Miyazaki manages to perfectly capture a child’s unique perspective on the things they fear and don’t understand — and in turn, how he allows the viewer the ability to see the events that play out from said perspective — is truly something to behold. It’s a perfect children’s film because of how much it takes children seriously and how it prides itself on doing just that. It understands them and trusts their intelligence and insight without having to unnecessarily pander or to hold their hand all the way through.
8) Howl’s Moving Castle (2004)
When it comes to the great Miyazaki, this is one that I often don’t see held up by people in as high regard as they do films like Kiki’s Delivery Service or Princess Mononoke. The common element held to the fire here is how Miyazaki constructs the story he aims to tell, how it seems to lack focus. However, what’s said to be its prime weaknesses are what I honestly believe to be its greatest strengths. Loosely based on the 1986 novel of the same name by Diana Wynne Jones, this fantasy adventure concerns a young girl named Sophie, who has a curse placed on her by the feared Witch of the Waste and is subsequently transformed into an elderly woman. Seeking to break the curse, she’s led to a magical castle where she encounters the wizard Howl, his apprentice Markl, and a fire demon named Calcifer, and with her nation and another kingdom waging war, she gets caught up in Howl’s resistance to fighting for the King.
To put it lightly, Howl’s Moving Castle has a lot going on throughout its running time, and I’m not going to pretend like I don’t see where someone’s coming from when they say that how the story plays out didn’t work for them. However, not only did I personally find it not that difficult to follow, but what was going on was so brimming with fierce, out-of-this-world imagination that it was hard for me to complain. It’s an infectiously charming fairy tale that sincerely embraces its deliberately abstract nature like there’s no tomorrow. It’s bonkers, for sure, but it enhances the emotions tenfold rather than getting in the way of them, as Miyazaki still demonstrates his gift for rich and dynamic character work and getting across blunt — justifiably so — but ultimately enduring messages in a uniquely profound way. Plus, where else will you find a film where an anthropomorphic ball of flames with the voice of Billy Crystal happily feasts on eggshells provided to him by Batman?
9) Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea (2008)
Having previously described Spirited Away as Miyazaki’s unique take on the likes of Alice in Wonderland or The Wizard of Oz, I suppose it only makes sense that the master filmmaker would later craft a unique take on the story of The Little Mermaid. Arguably Miyazaki’s lightest — perhaps even more so than My Neighbor Totoro and Kiki’s Delivery Service — and maybe even sweetest film, this children’s fantasy follows a little boy named Sōsuke, who lives with his busy mother Lisa while his father Kōichi works as a ship captain. One day, he rescues a goldfish whom he names Ponyo, who is actually the daughter of an underwater sorcerer named Fujimoto and the radiant, size-shifting Granmamare, the goddess of mercy and the queen of the oceans. Expressing a desire to become human, Ponyo forms a powerful bond with Sōsuke, but in the process, she triggers a series of events that threaten to bring nature out of balance and put the mortal realm in grave danger.
If there’s one word to describe Ponyo, it would be pleasant. From beginning to end, even at its weirdest, its quirkiest, and its darkest, it’s just an overwhelmingly lovely film. Miyazaki will forever be well-regarded for his dazzling visual style, but I don’t think it’s ever been as eye-poppingly warm and vibrant as it is here, every single shot practically glowing, ablaze even. The titular character is all too adorable and seeing her express her desires to be her own person, to become human, and to remain close to the first true friend she’s ever made, as well as the joy she feels upon experiencing these things, may very well be one of the purest pleasures in all of cinema, further aided by Joe Hisaishi’s upbeat, sweeping orchestral soundtrack. It’s exceptionally difficult to come out of this film without your heart feeling so full. Miyazaki may be dabbling in familiar territory once more, particularly themes of environmentalism and humans’ relationship with nature (and in this case, how we treat our oceans), but as I’ve previously stated, he has a remarkable gift for taking said familiar territory and re-conceiving it in a way that feels fresh and new as you’re sitting through it. In short, it’s the cutest film ever made about a fish who canonically drinks human blood.
10) The Wind Rises (2013)
Ten years ago, we thought this would be the end for Miyazaki. This was it. This was the grand finale to a storied career. Ultimately, he had one more film in him, but for quite a while, we thought there would be no more after this. Had this truly been Miyazaki’s swan song, he couldn’t have gone out on a better and more gorgeous note. A rare film for the master filmmaker in that this was based on the life of a real person, this epic but also wonderfully intimate slice of historical fiction details the chronicles of airplane designer and lifelong aviation lover Jiro Horikoshi, the chief engineer behind numerous fighter designs used by the Empire of Japan during World War II, most notably the Mitsubishi A5M fighter aircraft and its successor, the Mitsubishi A6M Zero.
It’s fascinating to see a Miyazaki film that prides itself in being as grounded as possible, especially given the subject matter, without any fantastical elements. But then again, some of the very best and most achingly beautiful moments in his prior films are also the ones that were more naturalistic and quiet rather than bombastic and strange. Whether it’s accurate or inaccurate to the real-life events it portrays, I couldn’t tell you, but what I can tell you is that The Wind Rises isn’t just one of the greatest animated films of the 21st century but also one of the most beautiful films I’ve ever seen, and it’s not just the visuals that make it as beautiful as it is but also because of how it grapples with dark, heavy subject matter in a way that’s deeply humane and soulful.
At its core, it’s a tale of love destined to end in tragedy. Miyazaki’s portrait of Horikoshi is one of an ambition-driven man who simply wants to create amazing things, while at the same time knowing that what he creates will be used as killing machines in a conflict that ultimately boils down to senseless slaughter. It’s perhaps the ultimate metaphor for a creator struggling to come to terms with the fact that they have zero control over how their art will be read, seen, and used by others, particularly if and when they’re read and seen in the wrong way and used for the wrong reasons. Miyazaki also creates a perfect parallel between Horikoshi’s desire to create and the undying love he has for his tuberculosis-stricken wife, whose health deteriorates day by day while they try to live each day they have together to the fullest, adding further emotional weight to an already powerful story. It’s a film that understands the complexity of us as a species, that even with the terrible things we do, within our flaws do exist beauty and grace.
I’m well-aware that this is one of the most overused descriptions one could ever give to an artist, but when looking back at his body of work, Hayao Miyazaki truly is one of a kind. It’s difficult to fully explain, but when watching his films, you just know it. We’ve seen phenomenal talent working in his field continually achieving wonderful things, and we’ve seen stories told before and told after — and many of them told very well — that are similar to the ones he’s told, but whether it be factors such as the specific art style, the attention to detail, the integration and execution of mature themes, or the emphasis on character, emotion, environment, and atmosphere over plot, the films of Miyazaki can’t help stand out like nothing else. There’s a quality he brings to his art that only he can bring and no one else could ever replicate, pushing boundaries that we didn’t even know could be pushed.
With his emphasis on nature and how a lot of his films depict man’s complicated relationship with the environment, he never preaches to the choir so much as he encourages his audience to take a moment or two to really think, to contemplate who, what, and where we would be without the soil on which we roam, without the plants that provide us our food, without the materials that allow us medicine and shelter. It isn’t something as cartoonishly basic as cries of “Save the rainforest!” nor as empty and hollow as “All technology is bad!” but rather something that tells us that these things can, in fact, achieve a peaceful coexistence but we, as a people, have to put in the work to maintain that.
As we’ve seen perpetuated by so many people in real life and on the Internet, even by high-profile celebrities like Amy Schumer, it’s too easy to see what he does and casually but coldly dismiss it as nothing more than a distraction for children to watch and adults to “endure.” But what that deeply troubling notion does is underestimate our children to a frankly gross degree, which is something that Miyazaki never does. He knows that children have a strong understanding of what’s going on around them and that they experience a lot of the same complex emotions and situations that their grown-up peers go through. He knows they can’t be protected from the harsher qualities of life for so long, addressing adult topics and exploring them in a way that they can understand but without the need to simplify or sanitize them. He takes children, their intelligence, and their emotional maturity seriously, much in the same way that we take him as an artist seriously.
If How Do You Live? truly is Miyazaki’s last hurrah, then I can only hope that the end result lives up to all of this and then some. For all of the memories, for getting myself and others to see the medium of animation in a new light, and for encouraging us to exercise our imagination, to nurture our passion and creativity, and to see beyond the possibilities, all I can offer is my sincerest gratitude. You may not have any more left to give, but all that you have given will last many a lifetime. As the old song goes, “We’ll meet again. Don’t know when, don’t know where. But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.”
