Spirited Away is showing in selected cinemas nationwide this January.
Although animation is often dismissed as childish or inferior by narrow-minded types, the limitless boundaries of its craft make it arguably the most emotionally evocative cinematic medium. From Snow White to Grave of the Fireflies to Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio, animation can broaden horizons and capture universal truths with more astuteness than live action. Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away is perhaps the greatest of all animated movies. It’s bizarre yet beautiful, creepy yet whimsical, and chock full of rich themes and unforgettable characters and imagery. It is a bona fide masterpiece.
Released in its native Japan in 2001, Spirited Away is an anime feature that plays like a Pandora’s box, where each new animated avenue erupts in colour and creativity. Ten-year-old Chihiro (Rumi Hiiragi) is moving to a new home with her parents, a life change that has left her crestfallen. In the opening scene, she sulks in the backseat of the family car, clinging to a bouquet of flowers – a parting gift from her old school – as the world passes by a window she rarely looks out of. When her dad takes a shortcut, the family find themselves at an abandoned tunnel. Her parents decide to investigate, and Chihiro, despite her vocal reluctance, follows.
On the other side is a peculiar settlement, a gigantic bathhouse looming overhead. Chihiro discovers that they have entered a realm of spirits, a realisation that comes too late for her parents, who have been transformed into pigs after helping themselves to food intended for the visiting spirits. To save her parents and return to the human world, Chihiro seeks out the witch, Yubaba (Mari Natsuki), the owner of the bathhouse and ruler of this world. Aided by a mysterious boy named Haku (Miyu Irino) and a colourful array of idiosyncratic spirits, Chihiro aims to seek employment at the bathhouse and thus figure a way out.
Take almost any scene from Spirited Away, and you’ll find yourself floored by the imaginative artistry on display. The film is populated with weird and wonderful figures, settings and scenarios. Humanoid frogs form the bulk of the bathhouse’s employees; roasted newts are dietary delicacies, and the boiler room is worked by soot sprites and Kamaji, a man with six arms. Yababa owns a ten-foot baby and puzzling sentient heads for pets. On their own, these images are preposterous, yet they work in harmony with the story as Chihiro navigates this surreal realm in order to escape it. This film’s world is hypnotically immersive, trapping us in our own bewildered awe, just like Chihiro.
Part of Miyazaki’s appeal as a filmmaker is his willingness to hand draw many of his film’s frames himself, all while adding little touches to make his worlds seem more lived in. Spirited Away achieves this through recurring characters whom we recognise due to their singular designs, many of which are based on the spirits of Japan’s Shinto religion. Consider the scene when Chihiro first takes the lift to Yababa’s office. She has to share the lift with a Radish Spirit, a giant, slow-moving creature with spiky white fur and two large tusks. We recognise this creature from when it disembarked from a boat earlier in the film, and we recognise it again whenever it appears in the background later. Various other spirits follow this pattern of interaction and subsequent recognition, whether it’s Kamaji, Yubaba or the ominous No-Face, a gluttonous spirit who becomes fixated on Chihiro’s sincerity. Even if we don’t necessarily understand what’s happening, the setting of Spirited Away brims with life as familiarity breeds engrossment in the sweets of its animated splendour. The vast landscapes embody the term “Every Frame a Painting”, yet when Chihiro has to give a creature caked in sludge a bath, we’re revolted by the texture, cringing as Chihiro awkwardly has to wade through the muck.
From an outside perspective, the film may seem like a cacophony of strange images. Yet Spirited Away makes sense of itself via its coming-of-age narrative. Chihiro is a scaredy-cat, a girl already anxious at the prospect of a change of home. Now, all her worst fears have hit her simultaneously as she’s forced into a realm she can barely comprehend, let alone recognise. Everything around her wants to eat her, haunt her, or turn her into something else. Yet, by facing her fears, Chihiro learns bravery and grows in confidence, all the while remaining selfless in the face of a world that’s rampant with greed – whether it’s her parents stealing food that isn’t theirs or No-Face consuming everything like a monstrous animal. Joe Hisaishi’s score exudes wonder even as we’re faced with the strangest sights, the gentle piano keys acting almost as a comforting guide to a labyrinthian setting. It underscores how, despite Chihiro’s fear, this will ultimately shape her into someone stronger.
The film contains a myriad of themes that connoisseurs of Miyazaki will know instantly, such as the importance of nature seen in Princess Mononoke or the value of hard work championed by Kiki’s Delivery Service. Yet Spirited Away works most profoundly as a metaphor for the transition to adulthood. When we leave our childhood behind, we have to navigate a larger world that we only partially understand, if at all. Chihiro’s journey through the spirit world is, in its own way, preparing her for the later unknowns she’ll face in life. As she navigates the technicalities of this world – including the bathhouse’s capitalist structure of a jewel hoarding manager and maligned workers – she grows not just from scared to brave but, subtextually, from child to adult. Rather than cave to the cynicism that too many adults eventually bask in, Chihiro keeps her qualities of empathy and vulnerability through her interactions with Haku and other spirits, ultimately helping them just as they’ve helped her. It’s all about growing into a better, stronger, kinder person, even in the face of great uncertainties.
Spirited Away continues to resonate with audiences and critics precisely because of this timeless core, packaged around a jaw-dropping cornucopia of imagination. Its boundless canvas of colours, creativity and compassion inspires and mesmerises me every time I watch it, something I will inevitably be doing again for its newest cinema run this New Year season. It’s bizarre and nonsensical and eerie. But it’s also beautiful and rich with thematic and emotional prowess. Anyone who doubts animation’s ability to engross or resonate needs only one viewing of Spirited Away to see the fruitlessness of their doubts. Few movies are ever as gorgeous or enthralling on their twentieth viewing as they are on their first.
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