Surreal, mesmerising and unique, Spirited Away should be on your list of must-see movies
Minor spoilers
Nearly every country on earth has its legends of a world similar to our own, inhabited by supernatural beings, where magic works and human rules do not apply. The mythic worlds of Western civilization—Olympus, Valhalla, Tír na nÓg—as well as more modern supernatural worlds—Narnia, Middle-Earth—have become so embedded in the fabric of our culture that they pass invisibly into our common idioms. (Ever heard a fatal weakness called an "Achilles' heel," or opened a "Pandora's box" of disasters? Thank the Greeks.)
Not as familiar in the West, however, is the supernatural world of Japanese folklore. Ancient Shinto beliefs claim that every physical force of nature contains a kami—a spirit or god. Although these beings exist in our world, they are not usually visible to us. A rich tradition of faith and folk beliefs have sprung up around the kami—the ways in which they are to be worshipped and respected—that has likewise permeated even modern Japanese culture. Master animator Hayao Miyazaki has drawn upon this tradition to create the dreamlike otherworld of Spirited Away, Studio Ghibli's latest release.
The story centers around Chihiro, a sullen, scrawny ten-year-old girl. Her family is moving to a new town, leaving her school and best friend behind, and Chihiro begins the movie slumped in the back of her parents' car, sulking at her misfortune. Just before reaching the new house, however, her father gets lost on a back road and the family comes across what appears to be a deserted amusement park. Chihiro immediately senses something very wrong about the place and wants to get back in the car, but her parents ignore her cries in favor of satisfying their curiosity. They wander into a street filled with restaurants, and come across one that still appears to be open. Again ignoring their daughter's pleas, they sit down and begin stuffing their faces with delectable food.
Unfortunately for Chihiro's parents, the food they ate was actually prepared for the kami who inhabit this place—and as punishment for their insolence at taking food meant for the gods, they are transformed into pigs. As Chihiro watches in horror, the world around her changes. At dusk, the amusement park is revealed as a kind of day spa for nature spirits. Weird physical manifestations of the kami begin to appear on riverboats, heading toward the Aburaya bathhouse for some rest and relaxation. Trying to convince herself that it is all a dream, Chihiro next realizes she is beginning to disappear. Only the intervention of Haku, a boy from the otherworld, keeps her from vanishing completely.
Haku explains to Chihiro that the only way to free her parents from the spell is to get a job at the bathhouse, working within the cryptic rules of this world to find a way out. After some adventures proving her worth to Kamaji, a spiderlike old man who runs the bathhouse boiler room, and Lin, an older girl who works at the bathhouse, Chihiro gets a chance to come before Yu-baaba, the giant-headed crone who runs Aburaya. Although she is a powerful magic user and quite intimidating, Yu-baaba is also sworn to give a job to anyone who demands one—and Chihiro, although physically trembling at the thought of being turned into some sort of creature by the old crone, refuses to leave until Yu-baaba offers her a work contract.
Chihiro quite literally signs her name away—the only thing left to her is the first character of her name, "Sen"—and begins a regimen of hard work at the bathhouse, catering to the many whims of the nature spirit customers. Despite much initial klutziness, her willingness to work hard and her basic kindness and thoughtfulness serve her well. She manages to prepare the right bath for her first customer, a reeking "stench spirit," revealing in the process that it is more than what it seems to be. When a being called No-Face begins terrorizing the bathhouse, only Sen can stop the greedy rampage. Slowly she begins to gain respect—even a measure of affection—from the bathhouse workers, slug-spirits and frog-spirits who at first derided her as a "stinking human."
As with most other Miyazaki films, the heroine's quest progresses in a mostly non-linear way. Although Chihiro wants to change her parents back, she must do a number of things to prove herself in the process. Just as in real life, there are many side roads and detours from the primary goal. A major side plot involves Haku, the only person Chihiro really trusts. We discover that Haku is a magical being, able to transform into a dragon. Like Chihiro, he signed his name away to Yu-baaba—but now he cannot remember who he truly is, and he spends much of his time trying to discover this most basic fact. (Knowing one's true name is a powerful spell-breaker in this world, much as with the Western story of Rumpelstiltskin.) The creature called No-Face is enigmatic, presumably a being whose behavior is strongly colored by the emotions of those around him. He is first serene, then subservient, then consumed by greed as the denizens of the bathhouse change him from a harmless ghost to a gold-flinging, all-consuming monster. These side plots are just as engaging and vital as the primary quest. Some directors pay lip service to the idea that the journey is as important as the destination, but Miyazaki makes you believe it.
There are some beautiful visual scenes in this film, as I've come to expect from Studio Ghibli. The bathhouse is bordered by a shallow sea, through which a ghostly commuter train runs. An invisible hand literally grabs Chihiro and flings her through the air, down long passageways and through scores of swiftly-opening doors, into the presence of Yu-baaba. Haku transforms into a sinuous flying dragon, pursued by a flock of furious paper birds. The Aburaya bathhouse is a marvel of Japanese architectural opulence. As the greedy Yu-baaba discovers that the one thing she loves most—her baby—has been kidnapped, the pile of bright gold nuggets on her desk darkens and collapses into ashes.
I think I can see why some critics have compared this movie with Western fairy tales and Alice in Wonderland, although Spirited Away has more in common with the former than the latter. Like Alice, it has its own convoluted internal logic and peculiar creatures, but that is where the similarities end. It has much more to do with the original folk and fairy tales we grew up with—steeped in ancient local tradition, often cryptic, with odd details that make us wonder what part of the original tale was forgotten in the telling—but still vital because they tell stories of human nature, which does not change. Spirited Away, like so many other fairy tales, features an everyman (or in this case, everygirl)—a protagonist who is not exceptionally brave or strong or even intelligent, but who rises to the occasion with a combination of pluck and luck, and who becomes a better, more mature person in the process.
Spirited Away isn't for everyone—children under 10 will likely be frightened by some intense, scary scenes with No-Face—but it ought to appeal to just about all other moviegoers. This is one of a handful of movies that I intend to watch more than once in a first-run theater. It's that good. Disney isn't doing the movie any favors, limiting release to a puny 149 theaters in the United States, so if Spirited Away is playing anywhere near you and this review has in any way piqued your interest, I strongly recommend that you go as soon as possible.
After all, the chance to buy both a ticket to Wonderland and an extra-large popcorn doesn't come along every day.