I was walking my dog when it occurred to me that Hayao Miyazaki’s films feel like a love letter to ordinary women. They pay close attention to the work of caring for others and how easily we take that care for granted.
In Nausicaä, the heroine tries to understand a natural world that others see as hostile, risking her life to protect those she loves. In Spirited Away, Chihiro gradually learns to care for the people around her. At first, she’s upset about moving and caught up in her own worries, which seems fair enough for a child facing a new school and an unfamiliar life. Then she has to work, overcome her fear, and help people she barely knows. I like how those attachments develop, even when the first encounters aren’t especially welcoming.
In Howl’s Moving Castle, Sophie finds herself living with someone who, for all his abilities, often behaves like a spoiled child. She settles into the castle, cleans up, and looks after its inhabitants. Gradually, they grow close to one another. In My Neighbor Totoro, Satsuki also takes on a lot of everyday responsibility. Her mother is in the hospital, the family has just moved, and her younger sister needs looking after. Satsuki gets scared too, though, and needs someone to look after her.
For a long time, these films mostly made me feel grateful to the women who do this kind of work every day. Cooking, caring for children, helping someone through an illness: all of it takes time and effort. It’s easy to get used to having it done, especially when someone else takes on most of it. Miyazaki gives this part of life enough attention for me to notice how much goes into it.
Then I started to think the idea went further. In stories about warriors, a sacrifice gives us a clear moment to remember: someone faces danger and chooses to put themselves at risk for others. Everyday care is harder to tell a story about. It repeats, rarely has a definite ending, and usually needs doing again tomorrow.
Even a familiar story about slaying a dragon depends on other people’s work. Someone fed the hero, tended their wounds when they returned, and worried while they were away. If they didn’t return, someone had to live with that loss. I find myself wondering about those people, even when the story gives them only a few lines.
That may be why I enjoy the scenes in Miyazaki’s films where people cook, clean, or spend time together. I recognize so much of everyday life in them. Even when things are going reasonably well, it takes effort to keep a home, work, and pay attention to the people you love. And you want to enjoy that life together, too: share a good meal, laugh, find something to be happy about.
His male characters are part of this as well. Kamaji’s work in the boiler room keeps the bathhouse running in Spirited Away. The girls’ father in Totoro cares for his daughters while their mother is in the hospital. Thinking about them reminds me how much it matters to have someone you can depend on.
So what began as a thought about a love letter to women became a broader feeling of gratitude for the people we share our lives with. In a family, each person takes on some of the work, and it isn’t always obvious how much it costs them. I think part of what moves me about Miyazaki’s films is that they help me notice. I watch a fairy tale and find myself thinking about the people who have cared for me, with a better sense of what I have to thank them for.
Thank you for being by my side.