Celebrating Spirited Away, 20 Years On

Words by Amy Louise

Studio Ghibli’s Spirited Away (or Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi) was first released in theaters on July 20th, 2001. The now iconic animated-fantasy film, directed by the ever-grumpy director, Hayao Miyazaki, follows a young girl, Chihiro, who, after her parents are transformed into pigs, finds herself working in a bath-house for Kami, the spirits of Japanese Shinto folklore. The only traditional hand-drawn animation in a non-English language to win the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature, Spirited Away was for many people including myself, their first introduction to Japanese animation, and the various intricacies and stylistic differences that come with that.

I first watched Spirited Away when I was 13, nine years after it’s first initial release. Having grown up on a solid diet of Disney and DreamWorks, I was quite struck by the differences between Spirited Away and its western competitors. Namely, the expansive nature of the plot, as entire scenes sprawl in a manner far different from the high-action and often comedic plots on which I had been raised. One of my favourite scenes in all of cinema is that of Chihiro and her new friends, No Face, Boh and the Harpy, as they make their way to the witch Zaniba, bath house owner Yubaba’s twin sister. Underscored by a particularly contemplative track from the film’s orchestral score (composed by regular Ghibli contributor, Joe Hisaishi), Chihiro sits on a train that speeds along an expansive body of water, into the great beyond. Marked by stunning cinematography, the scene is a moment of both melancholy and peace, allowing the audience to pause. In a film full of big action moments, this scene allows both Chihiro and the audience to catch their breath as they think about her situation, and the journey until this point. 

It is not just this scene that stands out. In fact, Miyazaki disperses a variety of intimate and simple moments amidst the adventure. Chihiro’s mighty dash towards the sinister lair of boilerman Kamaji is immediately followed by the introduction of the quirky soot sprites, who dutifully carry coal towards the furnace until discovering a possible way to avoid the work. A dramatic bath scene with a polluted river spirit (featuring a dash of Miyazaki’s personal brand of environmental commentary) is quickly followed by Chihiro sitting on the balcony eating steamed buns with mentor Lin, as the two gaze on the expansive landscape below them. At one point, a particularly heartbroken Chihiro sobs while eating a rice ball given to her by Haku, her new friend. All of these moments serve to add texture to the land of the Kami, lending a belief that these characters existed before Chihiro came into their lives, and will exist long after it. We never do find out what brought Lin to the bath house, or if she ever leaves. We don’t know what Haku does with his newfound freedom. We never learn if Yubaba repairs her relationship with Zaniba. Questions that are typically answered in a Disney film are never addressed, lending an open-ended nature to the world, even after the final credits show.

These moments show that it is truly the characters in Spirited Away who grant the film its enduring position within cinema. A noted departure from what western audiences would have been used to, many of the characters in the film are morally grey. No Face, one of the film’s most iconic characters, is an antagonist for most of the film’s second act. Desperate for love and acceptance, they imitate the formerly-polluted river spirit by offering gold to the bath house servants, eventually mutating into a greedy monster that consumes everything (and everyone!) in sight. Yubaba, the fearsome witch who runs the bath house and traps Chihiro into servitude, is also a cranky businesswoman and dutiful mother, who deep down, is most concerned about service and profit. The film ends with no comeuppance for either these characters nor any of the others that display morally dubious behaviour; rather, life carries on relatively untouched. Chihiro’s impact on the Kami is more interpersonal; Boh gains independence and stands up to Yubaba, No Face finds a home with Zaniba, Haku breaks free from his curse, rather than world-changing; such as the bath house closing, and the servants being freed. As such, Chihiro’s story and the characters that surround her are startlingly human. Miyazaki allows them to be complicated and flawed without forcing them into certain boxes of good and bad, and the film flourishes because of this fact, lending it a timeless quality that makes it watchable and relatable regardless of your age.

Watching Spirited Away for the first time began a long and somewhat arduous journey to watch the rest of Studio Ghibli’s offerings (the studio’s films were notably very difficult to watch pre-Netflix deal). What appealed to me in Spirited Away can be found dotted throughout the studio’s vast filmography, even when Miyazaki is not at the helm. Moments of slow contemplation and peace can be found in My Neighbor Totoro and Whisper of the Heart, expansive world-building can be seen in Nuasicaä of the Valley of the Wind and Laputa: Castle in the Sky, and complex, ambiguous characters can be spotted everywhere from Howl’s Moving Castle to Ocean Waves. In becoming so well-known within the western sphere twenty years ago, Spirited Away opened up an appealing and fantastical world of animation that people are still learning about to this day, oftentimes acting as an entry point for other excellent works of Japanese animation. Despite the fact I’ve frequently compared the film to western counterparts in this article, it’s not fair to hold it to such a standard. Rather, Spirited Away exists on its own plane, eagerly welcoming people to the fore, inspiring animators, artists, storytellers, and unfortunately, weebs, as was the case for my 13-year-old self, but alas that cannot be helped. Chihiro’s journey is relatable regardless of your age, and I can only hope that people continue to watch and enjoy such a film, even 20 years on.