It’s a moment to breathe. A moment to reflect on the journey so far. Chihiro — our protagonist — sits silently, only a vague idea of where the train will take her. A light piano piece twinkles in the background, and we watch as shadowy passengers dreamily vacate the train, until only Chihiro and No-Face (our now transformed antagonist) remain. They barely move as the train glides across what appears to be a train track in an open ocean. Neon signs flash past, but Chihiro sets her eyes towards the direction the train is moving, her determination clear, her goal set.
Studio Ghibli founder, Hayao Miyazaki, spoke of these quiet moments that are a staple in Ghibli movies. The word he used for it was “ma”.
“The time in between my clapping is ma. If you just have non-stop action with no breathing space at all, it’s just busyness.”
Few animated movies take the time to breathe like a Ghibli movie does, and it’s this feature that creates their unique tone. It’s in this breathing space where we can ponder the journey so far, where we can let the pent up emotions be free.
The wide, endless ocean in the background creates a feeling of loneliness but also serenity. Chihiro is far away from everything else: the struggles that preceded, the chaos of the bathhouse — she’s also getting further away from her parents than she’s ever been. The train journey feels like a metaphor for growing up, setting out on your own, and the isolating feeling of facing a bold task alone. The uncertainty of what’s to come is coupled with the comfort that the train is a place of solace. Chihiro has time to contemplate, and in this space, we do too.
I like to think that the shadowy figures on the train are all having their moments of contemplation too, just like Chihiro, just like us. Their stories are stories we’ll never know. The truths of strangers in shadow, their bodies, the personification of this.
Many of us live lives that rarely allow for pause. Our empty moments now filled with technology, scrolling pages, short videos that serve as dopamine boosters. Our attention, continually flitting from one distraction to the next, so that when we finally allow for a pause in the circus, we feel everything. It can be overwhelming, but there’s also catharsis in allowing the time to truly feel. If there’s one word I could use to describe the train scene, it is cathartic.
Every time I reach this scene in the movie, I feel a sense of safety and comfort. I almost feel a longing to be on that train with Chihiro. To reflect, but to also look forwards with bravery and grace, as she does. As I come back to it time and time again, my own reflections may change, but I will always feel that wave of emotion.
I’m curious as to how this scene makes other people feel. It’s purposely ambiguous, and there have been many theories over the years as to what the scene actually means. Please leave a comment if you have any insights yourself.
