The Beauty of Ghibli

If you like an edge to your romantic drama, then a re-run of CWs reboot of 'Beauty and the Beast' is streaming on Prime. Drawing (somewhat tenuously for some) on the classic tale, CW attempts to situate the crossed lovers within a contemporary setting. Heroine Catherine is re-envisaged as a NYPD detective whilst Vincent, a 'failed' experiment to create a super soldier, fulfils the role of the beast. Whilst the premise of the narrative may seem far removed from the more familiar Leprince de Beaumont story, all the required themes are there: the transience of beauty, the folly of vanity, the importance of commitment and of course the romantic idealism that love can conquer all! Like the original, CWs narrative has a dark edge to it – urban New York is sufficiently grimy to add the required touch of gothic to the setting, death and deceit abound, all is not what it seems.

In his book The Uses of Enchantment' psychologist Bruno Bettelheim observes that that the human spirit requires the dark fantasy of fairy stories through which to discover and make sense of our humanity. In this sense the seemingly unattainable and impossible juxtaposition of Catherine and Vincent provides an arena in which we can unpick and reflect on our own relationships and attitudes. As Bettelheim reminds us fairy tales are not just for children. They are important cultural devices that offer us opportunities to develop a greater sense of meaning and purpose about our own lives. Putting CWs retelling aside, the animated fantasies of Studio Ghibli (just finishing its annual showcase on Film 4) are arguably some of the best contemporary examples. Lauded by film critics and cultural commentators alike, yet comparatively ignored by the majority of the general public in the UK, Japan's Studio Ghibli has much to offer interested women.

Founded in 1985 by visionary director Hayao Miyazaki, Ghibli boasts endless standing ovations at festivals, the two highest ever grossing home-produced films in Japan ('Spirited Away' 2002, 'Princess Mononoke', 1997) and perhaps most importantly to Miyazaki himself, an Oscar for Best Animated Feature ('Spirited Away') at the 75th Academy Awards. Not bad for a studio that claims to make each film without a script, allowing the story to take shape through its storyboards. Often compared to Disney (who own the distribution rights to the films in the West), Ghibli offer a distinctly Japanese flavour to their animation which is kept pure by a strict 'no cuts' policy for its western distribution (Miyazaki's 'Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind' was savaged for its US release). Whilst Disney can perhaps claim the monopoly on the animated retreading the classic tales of rags to riches –as attested by the plethora of Disney Princess merchandise in their stores – Ghibli craft an altogether different kind of narrative. Like the Fairy Tales of old, Miyazaki's plots often revolve around cautionary themes - environmental issues, anti-war, the illusion of physical beauty - albeit in a more multi-layered, somewhat holistic, package.

Take Howls Moving Castle for example. Loosely based on the novel from the (arguably forgotten) Welsh treasure Diane Wynne Jones, the film tells the tale of young Sophie Hatter who is transformed into an old woman by a witch and who in the process of looking for a cure, is forced to housekeep for the flighty and vane wizard Howl. An almost 'Beauty and the Beast' in reverse in which the hero eventually learns to love the cursed heroine, Howls Moving Castle centres on a text familiar to many folk tales, that of coming of age. Often this is explained in terms of the dangers of sexual awakening – the beast is a metaphor for a predatory lover (for example the Wolf in Red Riding Hood) – but here Miyazaki and Wynne Jones approach it from a different angle. Eighteen-year-old Sophie is forced to put aside the trappings of childhood and youth. As she adjusts to her aged body, she unbiddingy learns the qualities that accompany old age and experience; the ability to see through nonsense, feistiness, fearlessness, peace and an appreciation that beauty takes many forms. As the tale progresses, we see that, depending on her situation and mood, Sophie can exercise some control over the curse of agednessness as she shifts back and forth between various representations of womanhood; the teenage girl, a shriveled crone, a dignified old lady and a girl with premature greying hair. In the middle of the film, in the guise of the latter, Sophie reveals to Howl that she feels ugly. When he replies that he finds her beautiful she immediately reverts to the crone representation as a defence against his advances.

Miyazaki crafts a cautionary message then that suggests we learn to appreciate the virtues of growing old and that beauty comes in stages. The tension between age and beauty is a recurrent analytical theme across a range of writing. Bodies are of course emblemic – important sites of both identity and of cultural meaning. In his book, 'The body social: Symbolism, self and society' Anthony Synnott observes that "The body is not a 'given' but a social category with different meanings imposed and developed by every age and by different sectors of the population. As such it is therefore sponge-like in its ability to absorb meanings". Yet as Judith Butler also reminds us, this is nearly always understood as a comparison between the 'real' and the 'ideal'. Thus whilst some bodies are considered legitimate, others are not and since they are socially constructed they facilitate or deny particular forms of identity.

According to Karen Dias, body image remains a central issue in third wave feminism if only because all women, feminist or not, have a range of heartfelt and complex emotions on the topic. Rather than assuming the legal and political struggles that had defined much of the preceding feminist agenda, third wave feminism has directed its focus onto popular cultural texts and their impact on the subjective experiences of women because these represent the most visible obstacles to female emancipation. Popular culture has focused a great deal of attention on women and their bodies, particularly in terms of what constitutes youth, health and beauty. The female body is expressed as a site of contradiction and ambivalence, revered simultaneously as a 'Diet Goddess' – the icon of health, restraint and perseverance - and demonised as a 'Food Failure' –the embodiment of excess and lack of control. Women's bodies are thus objectified and subjected to control, admiration, criticism and re-articulation across the media. There are contradictions in terms of how this is then articulated on page and screen. So on the one hand health professionals bombard us with warnings around size and weight in which beauty is expressed in what seems to be solely numerical terms; yet on another Gok Wan is granted almost god-like status for teaching women to be comfortable in their body whatever its shape; whilst the young women in the pro-ana community are clinicised and sanitized for offering an alternate, trangressive expression of beauty.

Ghibli cannot sit outside such tensions. Japanese animation is recognized for its use of pre-pubescent and adolescent girl and androgynous male characters often referred to as Shojo. In the West, wide-eyes, wasp like waists and high foreheads are seen to define the genre creating a representation of Shojo-cute which resonate with similar psychological explanations of the visual stimulations that babies use to acquire adult love. Despite often being understood as deeply feminist in its approach to characterisation, Ghibli make liberal use of such representations. Only San the feral wolf-princess heroine of Princess Mononoke is remotely transgressive in the way that she is portrayed. Perhaps unsurprisingly she doesn't feature in a recent survey asking men aged 20 thru 40 to rate their favourite Ghibli Girl. Fio Piccolo (Porco Rosso) Chihiro (Spirited Away), Sheeta (Laputa: Castle in the Sky,) Kiki (Kiki's Delivery Service) and Nausicaa (Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind) form the top five, all of whom drip with Shojo-Cute. Unsurprisingly, respondents identified a number of key attributes: "I want to protect her like a princess"; "she's cute and girly but cool at the same time"; "she has a cute naivety"; "she has a tomboyish appeal". It might be easy to dismiss these ideas as the perverse voyeuristic utterances of a certain type of male, if they didn't also feature in similar research that consideres the way that girls respond to the films.

There is an underlying sub-text of eroticism – even pornography – to some aspects of Japanese Anime, but the Shojo tradition in a Ghibli sense, also offers a commentary on patriarchal society. Men, and particularly women, have established functions in the social order, yet whilst you are a child, anything is possible; so thirteen year old Kiki can leave home and set up a delivery business in a new town, Nausicaa becomes an eco-warrior, Fio Piccolo is a seaplane engineer. Fantasy lets Ghibli do that, which is of course the point since it allows us to explore in safe and controlled enviroments the things that we can never do or be in real life.

Strangely, Sophie also doesn't appear in the list. Miyazaki is quick to have her claim that she is eighteen and not pretty – although ironically Shojo dictates that she looks barely in her teens and is 'not pretty' in an aspirational Disney Princess kind of way. Similarly wizard Howl boarders on the metrosexual – emerald drop earrings, voluminous silk shirts and flamboyant hair. "I see not point in living if I can't be beautiful" he bemoans after Sophie has seen fit to re-organize his bathroom and mix up his hair colours. "Its not that bad, this shade is even better" is Sophie's wise reply. Since the focus of the subtext is the discovery that many expressions of the body can be beautiful, it is really not that surprising that Old Sophie gets all the good lines, and ends up far more appealing than her girlish counterpart.

Sophie remains unique amongst Ghibli heroines in that her salvation lies in her transformation into a woman. One of the most refreshing aspects of Ghibli is its unashamed celebration of active girlhood. The ability to act independently and to make one's own free choices – often termed 'Agency' - is a recurring theme in Ghibli and a central aspect to the way that it constructs womanhood. One of the frequent readings of the films is as a metaphor for shifts in our society. In Ghibli's heroines we see empowered young women actively engaged in attempts to resolve the problems created by adults; war, environmental damage, discrimination. Sophie reminds us however, that whist the experiences of girlhood should be trusted and valued, age brings with it new possibilities, hinting at what the other girls may achieve in the future.

Throughout its films, Ghibli presents us with strong, intelligent, independent-minded women. They are also adventurous and active, yet compassionate, communicative, pacifist and virtuous. Their "female" qualities and experiences are often what resolve the crisis at hand and bridge conflicting worlds. Somewhat refreshingly, Sophie is not the only one who needs to come of age. Howl must also learn to conquer his vanity. He is impulsive, with a tendency to run away from his problems; the moving castle of the title, a steampunk inspired cacophony of parts that ambles across the countryside on mechanical legs, acts as a metaphor for his refusal to commit to a purpose. It is through Sophie, that he learns that some things are worth taking a chance on; in much the same way that Catherine tames the beast in Vincent.

Like Catherine and Vincent, Howl and Sophie are crossed lovers. It is their relationship – one that takes place between a legitimate and and illegitimate body – that lies at the heart of the piece. It is an idea that Miyazaki has explored in a number of his films. In 'Princess Mononoke', Prince Ashitaka falls for San the un-tamed wolf-child; in 'Tales from Earthsea' Therru, the love interest for hero Arren, reveals herself to be a dragon; Arrietty in the Ghibli retelling of 'The Borrowers' is a miniature girl who lives in the narrator Sho's dollhouse. This is perhaps where Ghibli's feminist credentials really lie. Akin to third wave feminism itself, Ghibli heroines tread the contradiction between conformity and transgression. Sophie is challenging in that in an almost Bridget Jones kind of way, she begins the film with a career as a milliner and eventually finds fulfillment in cooking and cleaning for her man. She is also more confident and in control as her older self. Yet as Old Sophie she offers us validation of an alternate representation of what it means to be beautiful.

Of course Sophie isn't perfect, nor are most of the other heroines. There is an air of messiness and contradiction that run through not only many of their actions, but how they are visually represented. Yet far from challenging Bettelheim's thesis regarding the role of fairy stories, it re-inforces Ghibli's importance as a mechanism of self-reflection. As third wave feminism suggests, contradiction is in itself a definitive, lived and embodied strategy, as young women's narratives are increasingly becoming diverse, fragmented and embody a 'lived messiness'.  Many women, in trying to make sense of this messiness, have turned the focus inward, to the body, and have started from a place where they can exercise a sense of agency, Third wave narratives, like the narratives in Ghibli, (perhaps in many fairy tales) describe women's struggles with their identities as well as the contradictory nature of their empowerment. Though Ghibli's visual representations appear to reinforce patriarchal norms by adhering to strict Shojo conventions, these are juxtaposed by less legitimate bodies. As fairy tales, Mayazaki's films offer young women the opportunity to explore their own lived narratives and what it might mean to be beautiful.

A version of this article first appeared in issue 1 of Libertine Magazine