Princess Mononoke

I'm not really an anime person. At least, I wasn't before discovering Miyazaki. On the surface, much of what came from the anime and manga camp always seemed to me to be juvenile soap operas, sexual fantasy, or machismo grunt-fests. I've discovered that much of that holds true, but there are many gems to find in any genre, and geniuses at the helms of the work. Without discovering Miyazaki, I would have missed out not only on his work, but many other great and fun shows like Cowboy Bebop, Samurai Champloo, Darker than Black, Fullmetal Alchemist, and Ghost in the Shell, to name a few.

Still, none of those experiences really match up to the first time you see a Miyazaki film. The apparently effortless way he has of letting his imagination come loose and unhindered onto his page is inspiring to me as an artist; that his imagination is so vivid, strange, and unmatchable is daunting.

Our first glimpse of the "princess". Yeah, that's

 Wolf blood on her mouth.

Many American's first experience with Miyazaki was probably either the release of his classic, My Neighbor Totoro, or the more recent Spirited Away. Those are both fine films, (I particularly like Spirited Away), but my first encounter with a Studio Ghibli production is what I still consider to be his best by far. This was Princess Mononoke, a lengthy and complicated fable about Humans taking over the Natural world, told with compassion, insight, cautious optimism, and Miyazaki's trademark visual flair.

I could write for pages (and have, for a college paper) about the complicated themes that run through this movie, but I'd rather focus on what sets it apart not only from other animated films, but Miyazaki's own work as well, and why I think it's his best.

Pictured: Ashitaka encourages a Demon to "not mess." Miyazaki personally drew or altered 60,000 cells of animation, roughly two-thirds of the film's total.

This is certainly a more mature look than anything Miyazaki has attempted before-mostly he finds a home in family fair. There's a shocking amount of violence: dismembered limbs, decapitation, blood, and body malformations cross the screen with surprising frequency. The first time Ashitaka's arrow is released is certainly a moment that causes one to sit up and take notice. If you are familiar with Miyazaki's work, this should come as a surprise, but it goes to show that this was a very different kind of project for him.

There's also the complexity of the characters to mention. The story is populated with great men and women, vicious and mysterious gods of nature, amiable mercenaries, all fighting for the same scrap of land. No one is completely without hate or malice, or charity and good. It's a human vs. nature narrative, but no one really comes off well here. The gods of nature aren't the kind Disney manufactures: They are violent and dangerous, given to sudden attacks, and uneven temperament. They are also justified in their anger, as the human's aren't much better. But the sense of doom through the movie is clear: The humans will win this fight, nothing can stop the violence from escalating, and what will be left in the aftermath is unclear and seemingly hopeless.

In the midst of this despair, Ashitaka, a Prince cursed for the murder of a God threatening his village, and Mononoke, a girl raised by the wolf gods and firm in her hatred of all humans, play out a love story that reflects the mutual hatred and symbiotic nature of the warring parties. The battle that plays out around them, in which they are both participants is bloody, fascinating and haunting in it's spectacle, and achieves an artistic statement that is Miyazaki's best.