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The Guardian
10 hours ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Ghibli's midlife crisis: as beloved Japanese studio turns 40 will the magic fade?
Disney, Pixar … Ghibli. For its legions of admirers, the Japanese studiohasn't just held its own against the American powerhouses, it has surpassed them with the impossible beauty of its hand-drawn animation and its commentary on the ambivalence of the human condition. Although he would refuse to acknowledge it, much of Studio Ghibli's success is down to one man: Hayao Miyazaki, a master animator whose presence towers over the studio's output. Making a feature-length anime the old-fashioned way may require a large and multitalented cast, but Miyazaki is the thread running through Ghibli's creative genius. Now, as the studio marks its 40th anniversary, it faces an uncertain future, amid renewed speculation that its figurehead auteur really has wielded his pencil for the last time. Roland Kelts, a visiting professor at the school of culture, media and society at Waseda University, said Ghibli had failed to anticipate a time when Miyazaki, who is 84, would no longer be at the helm, even after the succession question grew more urgent following the death in 2018 of co-founder Isao Takahata. Instead, the studio shifted its focus to commercial activities. 'The studio failed to produce heirs to Miyazaki and Takahata, and now it's a merchandising monster,' says Kelts, author of Japanamerica: How Japanese Pop Culture Has Invaded the US. In 2013, Miyazaki announced that he would no longer make feature-length films, citing the difficulty of living up to his own impossibly high standards. But four years later, Ghibli said its co-founder had had a change of heart and would make 'his final film, considering his age'. The result was The Boy and the Heron, winner of the 2024 Academy Award for best animated film. While Ghibli performs alchemy on the screen, there is nothing it can do to shapeshift itself clear of the march of mortality: Miyazaki's main colour designer, Yasuda Michiyo, whose work appeared in most of his films, died two years before Takahata, while another co-founder, producer Toshio Suzuki, is 76. As a result, the studio is finally looking ahead to a future without its leading creative light, notwithstanding persistent rumours that Miyazaki is not quite done yet. 'Miyazaki is 84 and may not have time to make another movie,' says Kelts. The studio was formally established by Miyazaki, Suzuki and Takahata in 1985 – a year after it released the post-apocalyptic Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind. It has since become a cultural phenomenon, winning an Oscar in 2003 for Spirited Away, and a second Oscar in 2024 for The Boy and the Heron. Told through the prism of the fantastical, and featuring characters and themes that defy the pigeonholing that underpins much of Hollywood's output, Studio Ghibli's films are widely considered masterpieces of their genre, earning two Oscars and the devotion of millions of fans across the world. Watching a Ghibli movie is like reading literature, says Miyuki Yonemura, a professor at Japan's Senshu University who studies cultural theories on animation. 'That's why some children have watched My Neighbour Totoro 40 times,' she says. 'Audiences discover something new every time.' In some ways, Ghibli shares certain values with Disney, says Susan Napier, a professor of Japanese studies at Tufts University in the US, believes. 'Both are family oriented, insist on high production standards and have distinctive worldviews. 'But what is striking about Ghibli is how for the last 40 years the studio has reflected and maintained a set of values and aesthetics that are clearly drawn from its founders and not from a corporate playbook,' adds Napier, author of Miyazakiworld: a Life in Art. Miyazaki has made no secret of his progressive politics, informed by his experience living through conflict and postwar austerity, and has publicly criticised attempts by conservative politicians to revise Japan's war-renouncing constitution. His films address the themes of war and the environment, but stop short of distilling the narrative into a simple battle of good versus evil. The Boy and the Heron, for example, opens with Mahito Maki, the 12-year-old protagonist, losing his mother in the US's aerial bombardment of Tokyo in March 1945, in which an estimated 100,000 people died. However, Ghibli's decades of independence ended in 2023 when the studio was acquired by Nippon TV – a move that the studio conceded came amid uncertainty over its future leadership. Speculation that Miyazaki's eldest son, Goro, was heir apparent has dampened since the latter voiced doubt about his ability to run the studio alone, and amid reports that artistic differences had contributed to 'strained' relations between father and son. Now it will be up to Nippon TV to develop a pool of directors to gradually replace the old guard, including those with expertise in computer animation, considered anathema to Ghibli's fierce commitment to hand-drawn frames. Ghibli has at least overcome its squeamishness towards broadening its commercial brief. The Ghibli Museum has been a huge success since it opened in western Tokyo in 2001, while visitors flock to Ghibli Park in central Japan, whose launch in 2022 was seen as an acknowledgment by the studio that it needed to build a brand that went beyond film-making. Now Ghibli merchandise is ubiquitous, from My Neighbour Totoro T-shirts and cuddly character toys to high-end leather handbags inspired by Spirited Away and Levi's branded Princess Mononoke jackets. Totoro, Miyazaki's 1988 film set in 1950s rural Japan, was turned into a play by the Royal Shakespeare Company in 2022. Last year a stage adaptation of Spirited Away received a four-star review in the Guardian. While computer-generated animation and AI make the painstaking, aesthetically stunning animation that Ghibli is renowned harder than it was a generation ago, Napier is not convinced the octogenarian auteur is ready to retire. 'I can't imagine someone like Miyazaki, with his intellectual and artistic vivacity, simply being content to sit around, so who knows?' Agence France-Presse contributed reporting
CBS News
27-04-2025
- Politics
- CBS News
Japan's population is shrinking. Here's what it means – and what some are doing about it.
Modern Japan sounds like a sci-fi premise: the incredible shrinking country. Japan may have one of the longest national life expectancies, about 85 years, and the world's largest city, Tokyo. But the nation's population has been in decline for 15 years. Last year, more than two people died for every baby born — a net loss of almost a million people. And now, the island nation is on pace to shrink in half by this century's end. The diminishing population is Japan's most urgent problem, says Taro Kono, a longtime high-ranking minister in Japan's parliament. Kono, nearly elected prime minister in 2021, said he intends to seek the highest office again and believes the country should prioritize combating the population decline. He says this issue impacts every sector: the economy, education, housing, national defense and the culture of Japan. "There are less and less number of a young generation," Kono said. "And all the burdens are on the young generation. And they won't be able to sustain. So society is going to be breaking up. Economy is just going to stagnate." Last year, Japan's military recruited only half the people it needed, Kono said. There's a labor shortage in every industry, including in the government, he added. Japan is the world's fourth largest economy, but it won't be able to sustain if the population keeps declining, Kono said. Japan's societal changes and implosion of marriage Japan's falling population is owed, in part, to a spike in the success of women in the workforce. A greater percentage of Japanese women hold jobs than their American counterparts. Japan's famously punishing work culture, coupled with a men-first social culture, makes it extremely difficult to balance career and family. Japanese-American writer Roland Kelts says Japan also has "an implosion of marriage." Jon Wertheim and Roland Kelts 60 Minutes He told 60 Minutes the days of omiai, arranged marriage which governed Japanese marriages up through the 1980s, are behind us. "The corporate guys would marry the office ladies," Kelts said. "And this was all set up. It's gone now. And the office ladies make more money than the corporate guys. So now, you have this shift in economics that has not been reflected in social norms." This shift is reflected in Japan's marriage rates: in 2023, fewer than 500,000 Japanese couples married, the lowest number since 1917, according to the Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare of Japan. Japan adapts to parties of one A growing number of businesses in Japan now cater to single customers. There are ramen restaurants meant for dining in solitude, solo karaoke clubs, and bars only open to those arriving stag. There are also solo weddings, which have all the normal trappings — bride, dress, bouquet, photographer, but no groom. Alternative romance is also in vogue in Japan. Akihiko Kondo, 42, told 60 Minutes he married the anime character Miku in a formal ceremony in 2018. Kondo spoke with 60 Minutes about his love for Miku, and served her green tea while he spoke. Akihiko Kondo says he married the anime character Miku in a formal ceremony in 2018. 60 Minutes Kondo says he's one of thousands of Japanese in monogamous romantic relationships with fictional characters. Almost half of Japan's millennial singles, ages 18-34, self-report as virgins, compared to barely 20% in the U.S. How Japan is fighting to restore its population To foster relationships, the Tokyo government has taken action. One such initiative: a dating app. "We are promoting for matchmaking by artificial intelligence," Tokyo Gov. Yuriko Koike told 60 Minutes. And the number of applications has been three to four times greater than anticipated, according to the governor. Tokyo has also introduced a four-day workweek for government employees, designed to help working mothers and, hopefully, boost birth rates. "The longer we work, the less children we have," Koike said. "Demography is one of the biggest national issues that we have to tackle." Tokyo Gov. Yuriko Koike speaks with Jon Wertheim. 60 Minutes While many Japanese leaders agree on the importance of the issue, approaches vary. Hanako Okada, a 44-year-old mother of two who was recently elected to Japan's parliament, said confronting the population problem doesn't require dating apps or shortened workweeks, but a sweeping mindset change. "The total fertility rate for 2024 was reported to hit an all-time low," Okada told 60 Minutes. "The continuing slide in the birth rate clearly indicates our current policy isn't working at all." Ninety-two percent of Japan's population lives in urban areas, a way of living that Okada sees as unsustainable for population growth. She wants people to move out of cities and back to rural towns and villages to build lives and have families. Okada led the charge, moving back to her rural hometown of Aomori, a rapidly aging northern prefecture known for its apple orchards. Per one study, Aomori is one of hundreds of Japanese towns at risk of disappearing by 2050. "Aomori is my hometown," Okada said. "The precipitous drop in population—and vitality—of this city is deeply troubling not just personally, but from a national perspective. If our regions collapse, it imperils our country's strength. I thought, 'We can't allow this situation to go on.'" Okada hopes to help create interesting jobs with decent pay in rural areas, so that the young people will come. Her thinking: Once they come, and experience the space, the slower rhythms and the quality of life, they'll be motivated to start families. Okada is hopeful. "The values of our younger generation are gradually shifting," Okada said. "Tokyo is no longer the be-all, end-all." Ichinono: The Puppet Village Many communities in Japan are fading. 60 Minutes visited Ichinono, a village located an hour and a half west of Kyoto with a population just shy of 50 people. 60 Minutes met Shinichi Murayama — a longtime Ichinono resident and the town's unofficial puppet master. Murayama oversees the making and scattering of life-like puppets around Ichinono, repopulating a depopulating community. "Puppets are no substitute for people, of course. But making them cheers us up," Murayama said. Murayama has seen the population of Ichinono continue to decrease; he is deeply worried about the future of his village. He remembers when the town was filled with kids. Now, instead, puppets fill the playground. This made the birth of Kuranosuke Kato, the youngest Ichinono resident and first child born in the village in more than 20 years, all the more meaningful. The Kato family in Ichinono 60 Minutes His parents recently exchanged city life for a spacious home in Ichinono. Dad Toshiki does IT work from home, while mom Rie, a midwife, hopes to open a local maternity ward. "We've got a mountain and a river to explore. We make our own toys and grow our own vegetables. For a kid, there's plenty of ways to have fun here," Toshiki Kato said in Japanese. The Katos hope others will follow, and that Kuranosuke will have friends and classmates among all the town's puppets. "I want Japanese people to become more aware of this lifestyle, which is closer to our traditional way of living, Kato said.
