Hayao Miyazaki: From Horus to Ghibli, or A Very Long Interview-Slash-Homework Assignment

A couple years back, I received a request from a student named Isabelle Lai. She was writing a school essay on Hayao Miyazaki and wanted me to share my thoughts on his work and career from Toei Doga to Studio Ghibli. Hopefully, I did overwhelm her with my long and detailed answers.

After much thought, I decided that I should share the entire interview here in the pages of Ghibli Blog. Hopefully, you will find it enjoyable and illuminating and spark new discussions about these great works of art. It's very long, so be prepared for a lengthy read. Enjoy!

Could you tell me a little bit about your career and your connection to Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli?

I’m part of that first generation of American anime fans, back when it was known as “Japanimation” mostly to diehards who would trade videocassettes at sci-fi conventions. There was a show called Star Blazers that aired when I was in early grade school, and I thought it was the most amazing thing in the universe, after Star Wars, of course. Years later, we were exposed to shows like Robotech and a lot of American cartoons that were animated in Japan, shows like Inspector Gadget and Transformers and Ducktales.

In the late 1980s, comic books were going through a transformation, thanks to Frank Miller, Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman, Scott McCloud and, of course, Art Spiegelman, whose Maus became required reading in schools. There was this fantastic comic book (“ugh, it’s a graphic novel,” the teenagers would whine) from Japan called Akira. It seemed to take the worlds of Blade Runner and Neuromancer and fuse that to the gritty violence and dark realism from The Dark Knight Returns and The Killing Joke and take it to a whole new level.

Then the Akira movie arrived in the States sometime in the early 1990s, and it just exploded like a thermonuclear bomb. There were a few previous attempts to bring Japanese animation to our shores, but they met varying degrees of resistance and either played in a handful of art-house theaters or disappeared on home video. Those works could be dismissed as “cheap, low budget, Saturday morning cartoons” by critics and animation lovers who worshipped at the feet of Walt Disney. Akira just blasted through all of that. It became the first major anime work to be seriously respected. And, of course, it scared the hell out of parents who probably thought it was another nice cartoon to pacify the toddlers. You know, like Bambi, except that Bambi’s mom gets her head shot clean off with blood splattered all over Thumper’s back side while the forest animals slash out endless strings of f-bombs.

Anyway. I loved Akira and sometime around 1994 I found myself scouring the neighborhood video rental stores for more “Japanimation” to discover. I don’t remember any names, but the movies I watched were mostly terrible, low-budget affairs. One movie depicted God as a giant green slug who drove a flying saucer straight into the side of Mount Fuji. I have no idea what that was about. I lost interest shortly after.

In the late ‘90s, you could be expected to find at least one really good anime film per year making its way to the States. There was Ghost in the Shell, which I thought was pretty good but a little stiff. Ninja Scroll was very popular and would get played often when at a co-worker’s apartment for Saturday night binge drinking. I don’t remember the plot very much, only the ridiculous amount of sex and gore which always embarrassed me at the time.

The “big” anime movie for 1999 was Princess Mononoke. I knew nothing about the filmmakers, but I really enjoyed this movie. It felt more mature and disciplined than all the others, and actually had compelling characters and an interesting story. Over the next couple of years, I would stop and watch the movie anytime it was showing on cable, and my respect for it grew and grew. A housemate at the time told me that Mononoke was his favorite animated movie ever, and I found myself agreeing with him.

Sometime around 2002, I was reading about this new movie from the director of Mononoke, something about a girl in a giant bath house with lots of colorful monsters. It was a blockbuster hit in Japan and was rumored to be even better than Princess Mononoke. I was very curious and tried to learn something about the people behind these animated movies.

It was around that time that I was going through a major obsession with movies. I had a color TV and a VCR and spent every spare minute I could watching classic movies, telling myself that I really need to explore the history of cinema beyond Star Wars and action movies. Roger Ebert’s newspaper column (and subsequent book series), “The Great Movies'' became my reference point for everything. There was also a single-screen movie theater at the University of Minnesota called the Oak Street Cinema that specialized in classic film series and revivals. I discovered Kurosawa, Ozu, Kubrick, Renoir, Fellini, Bergman, The Marx Brothers, Orson Welles, and every screening was a revelation. I felt like Dorothy walking into Technicolor for the first time. You’re at that young age where you’re discovering new worlds at every turn and you’re always hungry for the next big surprise (ProTip: never let that inner flame burn out).

Anyway, there were two anime films listed in Ebert’s Great Movies series: Grave of the Fireflies and My Neighbor Totoro. I rented Fireflies and watched it over the course of two evenings. It was emotionally devastating and overwhelming and I thought it was the greatest animated movie I had ever seen. I then watched Totoro, expecting a cheap family cartoon used by lazy parents to keep their toddlers quiet and docile for an hour (this is the only official reason why animation exists in the West). To my astonishment, this movie felt like a nostalgic ode to the director’s own childhood, romantic and benign and full of wonder. It’s one of those movies that makes you want to run in the woods and climb trees in search of fuzzy animals. It also felt like the yin to Fireflies’ yang, the two striking a balance in structure and style, like Ozu or Renoir painted in watercolors.

Shortly after, I was lucky enough to see Spirited Away on the big screen at the Uptown Theater in Minneapolis. I was completely bowled over and loved every minute. By the end, I was hooked on Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli for life.

As for my “career,” that was a long and winding road. When I was a teenager, I wanted to be a computer programmer. I was quite skilled at BASIC on the Apple IIe computers at school and the Atari 800XL at home, and when I began college it was with a Computer Science major. However, it was one of those loves or obsessions that dominates your teenage years and then sort of falls away when you enter adulthood. It was always a love-hate thing for me because computers were so alienating. Back in the ‘80s and early ‘90s, computer users and coders were social outcasts, treated almost like runaway lepers. I was literally the only “computer nerd” in my high school, if not my entire city, and that was straining. At some point, you just want to be popular and accepted. You want to be able to have dates, but back then, it was either one or the other, full stop. And that goes double for “anime,” “sci-fi” or “video games,” each of which was a social death sentence.

Fortunately, my other great passion while growing up was writing. I was typing out short stories for school and for fun since I was eight, mostly just ripping off comedy bits I saw on TV or other books like The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. In high school, I was writing and publishing fanzines (I got busted for using the school’s printer, which always helps you score points for your Teenage Rebellion Street Cred). By my early 20s, my zine was getting reviews in professional video game magazines, which led to paid freelance jobs with GamePro and official press passes to the Consumer Electronics Shows in Las Vegas and Chicago.

In 2002, I was putting together my own website, built entirely by myself with HTML and Dreamweaver 3, as a venue for my writing and art, which had become my new muse by that time. I was pouring over books on art history and film criticism and became a great fan of legendary film critic and firebrand Pauline Kael. Within the following year, I had my site, several art galleries, and very lengthy movie essays on Grave of the Fireflies. Reviews on nearly all the major Ghibli films followed, including Totoro, Mononoke, Spirited Away, Kiki’s Delivery Service, and a number of the studio’s titles that were only in Japan and unknown to all but the most obsessive anime fan.

In 2006, I decided to spin off the Studio Ghibli reviews and essays into a blog called “Conversations on Ghibli,” which I later retitled “Ghibli Blog,” since that’s what I always called it. My goal was to present a comprehensive study of the studio’s complete work, as well as the careers of Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata.

Has any of Miyazaki’s films personally influenced you? Do you have a favorite? Why?

That’s a very good question. Any exposure to the arts will influence and change you, especially when you are young, because you are being shown new ideas, new ways of thinking, new worlds that you never knew existed. It becomes a continuing journey of discovery. First you watch a movie like Totoro or Mononoke, then you hunt down the earlier films like Nausicaa or Castle in the Sky. Later, you will discover Future Boy Conan, Heidi, Marco, Anne of Green Gables. Finally, you find yourself watching the great Toei Doga films where all that creative energy was born.

Meanwhile, you discover things about other cultures, other myths and legends, be it Japan or Europe or the Americas. You start discovering the artists’ inspirations and follow their own journeys as well. All the while, you are trying to piece it all together in a grand narrative in your mind, as you’re trying to explain an art form that simply doesn’t exist in the West. There is nothing on our shores remotely like Grave of the Fireflies or Omohide Poro Poro or Mimi wo Sumaseba/Whisper of the Heart.

I find that it’s absolutely crucial to understanding the entire careers of Miyazaki and Takahata. Back when I started Ghibli Blog, hardly anybody knew of either of these people, aside from a couple movies, and even today, their vast pre-Ghibli work remains unknown. I remember watching the Disney-released Nausicaa DVD that came with a “behind the mic” documentary with the US voice cast. Actor Shia LaBeouf remarked how happy he was to be working on “Miyazaki’s first film.” My eyes rolled so hard they almost did somersaults. But, to be fair, it was nearly impossible in 2006 to see those pre-Ghibli works without file-sharing and torrent downloads provided by the fansub community.

I think my point is that these filmmakers provide us with an endless bounty. Every time you find another Miyazaki work, be it one of his manga comics or his ‘70s TV series, it changes everything you thought you knew about his Ghibli movies. Every piece comments on the other. Frank Zappa had this idea of “the great note,” where all of his music was, in fact, one enormous symphony. It’s a little bit like that.

As for my favorite Miyazaki movie, I’ll have to just cop out and say I love everything equally. Whichever one I saw the last is my favorite. That said, for his animation, I think Horus, Prince of the Sun, Heidi, Girl of the Alps, Future Boy Conan and Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind are his most significant achievements. But I always have a certain affection for Porco Rosso. And I think Mimi/Whisper is just about the greatest thing he ever worked on, even though he was the script writer, while Yoshifumi Kondo was the director.

Hayao Miyazaki’s crowning masterpiece has to be his Nausicaa serial manga/graphic novel. I think that’s the most sprawling, complex and intensely personal of all his works. It also has the benefit of showing his evolution as an artist as it was created in fits and starts over 15 years, and serves as the perfect link between the Nausicaa film and Princess Mononoke. I first read the four-book set released by Viz Media in a matter of days, even skipping sleep entirely so that I could finish the final book. Later, I bought the seven-volume set that matches the size and styling of the Japanese version and loved it even more.

I still don’t think Miyazaki has ever topped that brutal battle scene in Nausicaa, the one where Kai dies at the end. That was the greatest action sequence I had ever seen, film or print. The latter chapters involving Ohma the God Warrior are also astonishing.

Miyazaki has had problems in the past with English translations of his scripts. What is your opinion on this? Is there a significant change in the meaning or quality of his work as it is translated?

This has always been a touchy subject among Ghibli and anime fans, and I do admit I was something of a purist when I was younger, insisting upon Japanese soundtrack with English subtitles over the US dubs. To be charitable, I think the American producers became better at their craft as time progressed. The early dubs for Castle in the Sky and Kiki’s Delivery Service were embarrassing. The later DVD releases became steadily better, and the theatrical releases for Howl’s Moving Castle, Ponyo and The Wind Rises are quite excellent. I even admire the Miramax dub of Princess Mononoke for what it achieved at the time, employing A-list Hollywood actors and script adaptation by Neil Gaiman.

The issue has always been one of acceptance, not only of Japanese animation, but of animation itself. I’ve often used the phrase “the electric babysitter” to describe the Western attitude towards the artform, which means that “cartoons” are considered nothing more than “play pretend” movies for small children, and exist only to make toddlers shut up and stay quiet.

I think animation continues to reach broader acceptance, thanks to the films of Pixar and many other wonderful independent films from overseas. The steady stream of excellent anime movies from Japan from many great filmmakers has also made a great difference. Today, you have far better odds of meeting someone who knows the name Satoshi Kon or Isao Takahata than you would even 10 years ago. And Hayao Miyazaki has become a household name among cinephiles of all stripes (the two Academy Awards certainly helps).

When it comes to the Ghibli dub scripts, the problem in the past often came back to this “babysitter” stereotype. Since only five-year-olds are going to watch this, we should make the necessary changes so that they can understand it. In other words, dumb everything down, make everything explicit, and throw in extra dialog to cover up any extended moments of silence (lest the tykes get bored and start wandering around, or, worse yet, start asking questions).

Here’s one key example: in Porco Rosso, the scene where Marco tells his story of the war. His best friend had just been married, but he was ordered back to active duty before the honeymoon. In the fog of the aftermath, Marco discovers ghostly planes floating away, the pilots who were killed. He then sees his best friend, and to his shock and horror, shouts out to him. In this moment, he reveals that Gina, the woman of the hotel, is the bride.

This is the emotional climax to the movie. There is a romantic tension between Marco and Gina that is only slowly unveiled over the course of the story. We learn that they share a long history, that she had lost three husbands who were also pilots, and that the two share an unspoken bond. So why doesn’t the fat pig get off his butt and do something about the woman who is obviously waiting for him? Because of his best friend who was killed in the war. The flashback story is the key that explains both of these characters.

So how does the Disney script handle this scene? They throw everything away in the very first line, tossing out Gina’s name almost casually, giving away the surprise and killing all the suspense. It’s bad enough that Cindy and Don Hewitt (the US script writers hired by Disney for several Ghibli DVDs) tried to literalize Marco as the “pigman,” as though he was bonked on the head by Glenda the Not-Very-Good Witch. There are a lot of little slights like that on the Disney/Ghibli movies.

Again, the quality of the translations became better over time, especially once GKIDS took over the distribution reins. I still prefer the original Japanese language but that’s just personal taste. There are some subtleties that the Japanese audience will understand that might be missed by Westerners, but this is perfectly normal and true of all world cinema. If you’re curious about the subject, I highly recommend Linda Hoaglund’s essay on subtitles for the Criterion Collection release of Kurosawa’s Throne of Blood (fantastic movie, btw).

Why do you believe Miyazaki’s animations have been able to gain popularity overseas? Do you think his work will continue to stand the test of time?

Japanese anime has always been difficult to export to the West, because it’s so steeped in cultural and artistic ideas unique to Japan. The use and evolution of “limited” animation and frame-rate modulation is one such example where the East radically diverged from the Walt Disney archetype of “full animation.” The subject matter of many anime films and TV series is also a challenge, as many deal with adult subject matter. Even the great “Heidi Marco Anne” trilogy created by Takahata and Miyazaki brings a level of complexity and sophistication to children’s literature that Western animation wouldn’t dare touch. Example: the 1979 Anne of Green Gables vs the 2001 Canadian animated series.

I think Ghibli’s best strength is that so many of their movies are European by heart. They’re accessible in a way that most anime is not, and that’s especially true with Miyazaki. Kiki, Porco, Spirited Away, Howl and Ponyo are fairly easy to understand and relate to even casual viewers. Castle in the Sky and Future Boy Conan remind you of Spielberg, and Totoro reminds you of good ‘ole Sparky Shultz and your own childhoods.

Compare this to Paku-san, whose films I love dearly, which became increasingly inscrutable to anyone outside of Japan. Anyone could relate to Heidi, but you really need a study guide to fully grok Omohide Poro Poro, Pom Poko and Princess Kaguya. I think My Neighbors the Yamadas is his most accessible of his Ghibli works, but you’ll have to go back to Gauche the Cellist to find something that’s similarly easy for Westerners to digest.

These movies are still growing in the Western mind. Ghibli is more popular today in the West than it was a decade ago. And before the turn of the century, they were all but unknown. A decade from now, Ghibli will be even bigger, and the pre-Ghibli period will finally find their place among the canon.

I noticed on your blog that you wrote and edited content for both the Blu-Ray and DVD of Horus, Prince of the Sun in 2015 and 2017. How did it feel to be contributing your work to the same film two years later in 2017?

A quick story on how all that came about. I first saw Horus, Prince of the Sun back in 2005. I bought the UK DVD release and discovered the fansub copy online at the same time. I was completely blown away by the film’s energy and vitality, and it really did feel like I had found the original foundation for everything, not just Takahata and Miyazaki, but the modern anime era itself. It’s a flawed movie and certainly wells its scars, but that only makes me love it all the more.

Over the next few years, I collected what information I could about the film (Ben Ettinger’s AniPages blog has always been invaluable for understanding the Toei Doga days). I also spent some time tinkering with the subtitles, which were extremely poor on the DVD, missing large chunks of dialog and all of the song lyrics. I also pushed the movie on Ghibli Blog as often as possible, trying to turn everyone into fans.

Then in 2015, I noticed that Discotek Media had picked up the rights to release Horus on DVD. I made some inquiries to Mike Toole, the great anime scholar who has worked with the label on many projects. I somehow convinced the powers-that-be that I could provide English subtitles for the film as well as other supplemental material.

In a way, I saw Horus as my baby and it was my duty to protect it from being wrecked. For example, Toei wanted Discotek to use the title, “The Little Norse Prince” instead of the Japanese title. This is because that was the name of the film’s US release when it was picked up for distribution back in 1969. So I had to fight to save the correct title. In the end, I offered a compromise, where the title would read “Horus, Prince of the Sun” with “Little Norse Prince” in parentheses.

Back in 1985, New Line Cinema secured the US distribution rights to Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, and then they proceeded to cut 30 minutes from the running time, change all the character names, drop entire plot threads and change the title to the insipid “Warriors of the Wind.” The poster is one of those all-time classics of clueless cheese, featuring a litany of characters from other sci-fi and fantasy movies, none of whom have anything whatsoever to do with this movie. I wasn’t going to allow that to happen again, not on my watch. Thankfully, the guys at Discotek were very supportive and I’m aware of the pressures that license holders put on them, so kudos for the happy resolution.

For Horus, I wrote all the English subtitles, which took three or four drafts, a million playthroughs of every spoken line of dialog and endless consulting of my Japanese-English dictionary. I also used other releases as reference, especially the French DVD, which had one fantastic line where an upset boy yells at Horus after his father is killed by a giant fish. “You didn’t have the right!” I loved that line.

In addition to the subtitles for the movie and trailer, I wrote two essays and edited two other essays written by others, including one by Ben Ettinger that was stitched together from three separate blog posts. I also provided all the vintage photos and memorabilia that I could find for the production gallery.

My last contribution for the Horus DVD proved to be the most difficult: the audio commentary track. I was struck with the worst case of stage fright in my life. I couldn’t get three words out of my mouth to save my life. It was like One Froggy Evening brought to life. I compiled pages and pages of notes, sketched out an outline and just couldn’t get the words out. So with the final deadline looming, I assembled a collection of reviews and essays from various authors and recorded them. I wasn’t able to fill out the entire film running time, so there’s this very awkward thing where I just ran out of material and stopped talking. Hah, oy, froinlaven.

Now to the Blu-Ray release of Horus. I didn’t know if there would ever be one, but I began preparing my research notes in case the opportunity arose. In 2016, Discotek informed me that they did secure the BD rights, and asked if there was anything I wanted to change or add. I made a number of copy edits to the written essays and updated the essay on “Ghibli Riffs,” which are quick shots that reappear in later Studio Ghibli movies (all of the Ghibli films are packed with riffs).

The major change was the new audio commentary track. This time, I was ready, had all my notes, and in one evening I was able to record all the audio tracks and make it to the end of the movie. I covered the film’s production history, it’s many great achievements and influences, and discussed a number of themes. I was very happy at the end, and consider the BD Horus to be the definitive version.

In addition to my contributions, Mike Toole provided an excellent audio commentary track to the DVD/BD, and two video interviews with Isao Takahata and Yoichi Kotabe were imported from the French disc.

How do you feel about some of the more recent films that Studio Ghibli has released? Can you tell the difference between movies that Miyazaki had helped create versus movies mainly produced by other members of the studio?

I think the struggle to find a suitable successor for the studio haunted Ghibli for years, and it’s a shame that they never could solve that riddle. I think Yoshifumi Kondo was the obvious heir apparent, and had he lived, I wouldn’t at all be surprised to see Hayao Miyazaki retire much earlier and stay retired. Kondo had such a wonderful touch, a gentle style that fit in perfectly between Miyazaki and Takahata. Mimi is my second favorite Ghibli movie after Omohide Poro Poro, and I’m also a big fan of Kondo’s 1984 Nemo pilot film, which is one of the all-time great anime classics. I’m also a great admirer of Tomomi Mochizuki’s directorial work on Umi ga Kikoeru/Ocean Waves. That’s a wonderful little charmer of a film that always flies under the radar and sinks its claws into you.

After that, I think Ghibli’s best director was Yoshiyuki Momose, who was the director of Ghiblies Episode 2 and the Capsule music video trilogy. He only worked in short films, but he should have been given the chance to direct a feature. I would have personally given him the promotion over Goro Miyazaki.

Goro-san remains Ghibli’s greatest gamble, the best hope for continuing the studio after its founders are gone. Unfortunately, he was dropped into the director’s chair with absolutely no experience for Tales From Earthsea, and it shows. His second effort, From Up On Poppy Hill, is better, but that’s because his father is hovering over his shoulders every second. Left to his own devices, the son doesn’t seem to know exactly who he wants to be or if he even wants the job. He has spent far too long complaining about his career as an animation filmmaker. That said, I am hopeful for his upcoming movie project.

Hiromasa Yonebayashi showed a lot of potential with his two Ghibli features, Arrietty and When Marnie Was There. I prefer the latter to the former, thanks to its more thought out story and compelling characters. Arrietty was the studio’s most popular movie in the US, but it felt a touch derivative, as though everyone were consciously trying to make a generic “Miyazaki movie,” but missing the exuberant energy or creative risk-taking.

Frankly, Ghibli’s biggest mistake was in losing Mamoru Hosoda, who was the original director of Howl’s Moving Castle before being chased away by Hayao Miyazaki. Here was an original with boundless talent and potential, someone who could bring the studio into the future without resting on its legacy. Unfortunately, that never happened.

Do you often receive contact from individuals who follow your website? If so, what are they like and have fans of Miyazaki and his studio changed over the years?

I always enjoyed the attention I received on Ghibli Blog, and during its glory days, there was a nice little community. Everyone was always friendly and respectful and added something new to the conversation. And I was just happy to know that somebody out there was reading my humble little blog. I am also humbled to know that my writing has had an influence on other Ghibli scholars, including Alvaro Lopez Martin and Marta Garcia Villar, who wrote the wonderful Mi Vecino Miyazaki in Spain. I consider that to be the definitive Studio Ghibli book in terms of content and layouts. I wish it would get a US release.

The Ghibli fan community has definitely changed over the years. Today, the fan art is what dominates. There are many talented artists out there who have put their own stamp on these iconic characters. I do wish there were more film blogs out there, but blogging in general went into serious decline a number of years ago, and Ghibli Blog’s popularity peaked back in 2011 when Arrietty was released in the US. There was a large spike in 2017 when Miyazaki announced his un-retirement, but once it was known that his next (and presumably final) feature film won’t be completed until 2021, the visitors left just as quickly as they came.

Today, there are many more places to find news about Studio Ghibli than there was back in 2006. The studio is more widely known, all of their feature films are available on Blu-Ray, and you can easily find others who enjoy these great movies.

What is your favorite part about owning a blog dedicated to Studio Ghibli? 

Ghibli Blog was a terrific experience for me. It certainly helped me to hone my writing skills and it was fun to bring others along on my own personal journey of discovery. I worked my fingers to the bone for that website, and for a while I was able to actually make it work somewhat, earning over a thousand visitors daily. The downside, of course, was the eventual burnout from work overload. If I had to do it over again, I would have found one or two collaborators to help lessen the load. But that’s all water over the bridge.

I am proud that I have created an online resource for Miyazaki and Takahata fans, where everyone can explore the amazing movies and television programs over a five-decade span. There are reviews, essays, commentaries, debates, movie posters, videos, screenshots, artwork, memorabilia, and anything of interest that crossed my mind. I would even throw in other animated works now and then, from Japanese anime to experimental Western animators like the Whitney Brothers.