Hayao Miyazaki's anime epic Princess
Mononoke (meaning ‘spirit princess’) bears the distinction of being the
most adult-oriented film of Studio Ghibli's output. Released in 1997, the film
truly stands the test of time for its outstanding detail, complex story and
characters, and its bravery in handling some fairly mature themes in the form
of an animated movie. Now, twenty years later, we take a look back at what is
quite possibly one of the greatest animated masterpieces of all time.
Written by Miyazaki, the film focusses on Ashitaka, a young prince who
saves a village from a demon. After becoming embroiled with the demon in
battle, Ashitaka's arm becomes cursed. Despite poisoning him and sealing his
fate to die, the affliction also gives him superhuman strength (as evidenced by
the fact that his arrow brutally decapitates and severs the limbs of Samurai
soldiers). Ashitaka travels west to find a cure for his curse, and meets the
people of Irontown, a mining town led by Lady Eboshi, who continually fights
off the gods of the forest. The people are attacked by wolves, led by wolf god
Moro, who are accompanied by the mysterious San (the titular princess), a girl
raised by the wolves who harbours a hatred of humankind, who piques Ashitaka's
interest. The pair identify each other as outcasts, and later form a bond.
As with many other anime films, this is certainly not for young audiences.
Indeed, some of the imagery is often violent - visceral even - and other times
it's pretty disturbing. But aside from the obvious graphic detail, the story is
also fairly weighty, thematically. One of the most substantial themes is the
ongoing conflict of the development of humankind and the preservation of nature
- but unlike your average mainstream animated blockbuster there is no easy
solution - all aspects of the theme are explored in all their ambiguous glory.
In addition, there are very few animated films that depict war in such a
graphic form - it certainly doesn't shy away from depicting bloody violence,
and with the animation itself maintaining such lifelike qualities, it's hard
not to wince on your initial viewing. There are few animated films out there
that are so unashamedly brutal, especially ones not widely acknowledged to be
strictly 'adult'.
But Princess Mononoke's use of violent imagery is in no way gratuitous - it's executed purposefully in order to anchor its messages with greater, more impactful meaning, essentially to visually bridge the gap between two seemingly disparate factions – one of industrialisation and one of nature – by emphasising the homogeneous effects of destruction in both territories. There is no definitive 'good' or 'evil' party; both harbour the threat of regression in a sense, while simultaneously maintaining their own personal motives for growth and preservation of their kind. Morally, as stated before, there is no simple resolution - the only means of resolve is for one to appreciate the other's benefits and thereafter coexist, which I think you'll agree is pretty profound for an animated feature film.
The difficulty in perceiving good and bad is further provoked by the fact that Irontown is home to people who might be considered outcasts themselves by the rest of society - including lepers and ex-prostitutes. Lady Eboshi's label as an ‘antagonist’ is therefore challenged in the sense that she perceives herself as performing an act of public good. Likewise, the role of women is also an atypical depiction. On the one hand, the workers at the ironworks are women, which poses something of a stark contrast to your average Disney princess schlock. But then again, they are subordinates to the governor, who utilises their labour exploitatively. Even more confusingly still, the governor Eboshi happens to be a beautified female, implying perhaps the women of the film, generally, aren't as progressively diverse as they might seem. All the same, Eboshi’s character continues to defy the Hollywood stereotype of the subservient maiden or ‘damsel in distress’. The depiction of San as an aggressive warrior also condemns any preconceived notions of femininity that might accompany the initial viewing of an animated movie with a female lead.
Ultimately, this film is not one to be taken lightly. Its messages are mature and its tone is gritty - at times disturbingly so. It takes a fair amount of concentration to fully absorb and appreciate the morals Miyazaki was attempting to convey - particularly when much of the imagery is distractingly outlandish (in a good way). The animation is richly detailed, the story gloriously dark and complex, and Joe Hisaishi’s score is nothing less than epic. There’s little else to say besides that this is a must-see, and one that ought to be seen as a showcase of what the animated genre is truly capable of.
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