The Real Legends & Creatures of： Spirited Away

I found a guilt-free way to turn going through my movie list into something educational for Guardians. Introducing the new series. First up is Spirited Away. This movie has a lot of suggestive messages and theories that I'm not sure were intended that way by Hayao Miyazaki, or if they're the clever reflections from the minds of viewers. I'm focusing on the creatures and their connection to Japanese folklore and culture, staying close to what I could find for Miyazaki's intentions for each character and the movie, but I might go a bit left. Okay, it's starting. This is Chihiro. She's very unhappy to be moving away from her home with her mom and dad, driving in their fancy Audi, until they get lost and take a detour, fast and furiously, ending up in front of an empty tunnel. Leaving their car, mom and dad walk their way through. Chihiro reluctantly follows, until they eventually approach an abandoned theme park that's void of people, but does have a stall filled with a beautiful spread of meat and whatever this is. Carelessly, mom and dad dig in. Chihiro disapproves, and she wanders around the park on her own curiously, bumping into a boy with cool hair and a very nice voice, who urges her to go back right now. But when she does, she finds her parents, still under the influence of their taste buds, have turned into pigs. That's how the Japanese eat nowadays. I think it's very ugly. They catch prawns, squid and crab from all over the world and keep eating. All you ever see on the TV is cooking programmes. This scene sets the premise of the movie. Miyazaki's expression of Japan's transition into a capitalist society shows up in symbolism. The pigs are his metaphorical critique of consumer culture, particularly the greed he witnessed during Japan's bubble economy in the 1980s, a period that was characterised by overheated economic activity, from inflated real estate and stock market prices, to excessive consumer spending on foreign luxury goods, which introduces the central theme of the film. Greed. Before they've even entered the park, dad's senses are triggered by the smell of food that he's blindly led by, eventually running to it, rather than using any of the means to find people. When Chihiro discourages them from eating the food without permission, dad dismisses it, assuring her he's got credit cards and cash. He justifies his actions with an economic solution, ignoring the social and moral implications of the situation. With this consumer mentality comes the entitlement that they can have whatever they want, provided they have the currency. Engagements become transactional, sophistication goes out the window, and their loss of control is fed by animalistic impulse. Maybe Miyazaki fabricated this as a test of the temptation of materialism. The colourful, neatly presented food, like the idea of having something, is more attractive before actually getting it. The bright, exaggerated display of abundance is now exploited, transforming into a pigsty from overindulgence. It becomes ugly and lifeless, which we see reflected in dad's now spiritless eyes. Pigs are the token for greed. In English vocabulary, they exist through idioms like pigging out and greedy as a pig. It's enough to understand the message by being called pig alone. In Japanese culture, the wild boar is closely related to the pig and is a deeply significant symbol, represented by a heart-shaped motif called the anome. It literally translates to boar's eye. In an attack, they are courageously determined, feared and admired by hunters who challenge them, appearing in expressions as symbols of bold, reckless energy. Shototsu moushin is a Japanese term loosely meaning to rush headlong like a wild boar. The word is made up of four characters called kanji. Each kanji stands for a word or idea that's combined to form more complex words. The anome is found on samurai armour, weaponry, and temple architecture, evoking the similar tenacious spirit of a wild boar for spiritual protection. Unlike the western heart tied to romance, this motif indicates strength, resilience, and divine protection. They are courageous in Japanese contexts. There's even a legend from the 8th century AD about a high-ranking official, Wake no Kiyomoro, who was ordered to be banished and had his hamstring severed by a jealous opponent. On his way to exile, he was surrounded by a herd of wild boars that protected and escorted him on the final stretch of his journey until his legs miraculously healed. They're considered sacred messengers and divine attendants at the gore shrine in Kyoto. These are most definitely pigs, not Inoshishi. I'm using their biological closeness, yet symbolic differences in this context, to mirror Miyazaki's point about how greed and abundance are similarly close, yet contrasting. Abundance can quickly become greed if we aren't conscientious. Miyazaki modelled the ideal animal to imply that if we aren't careful with what we overconsume, we blur the thin line between both and begin to lose ourselves to a point where we become unrecognisable. Inhuman. Miyazaki says pigs symbolise greed, but ultimately they're kind of likeable. You can't really bring yourself to hate them. That's the way I feel about humans. But he also says pigs are much easier to draw than camels or giraffes. Hmm. We try to find meaning in everything. We love it. But given the choice, wouldn't you want to include things in your own pieces of work for no reason at all? Anyway, carrying on. Chihiro is panicking now. Spirits begin appearing and she flies past a statue of a frog's head in chaos until she reaches steep steps that she rushes down, which have a water feature of a frog at the top. The same frog we saw earlier that day as the family entered the park, except there wasn't any water running from it then. Japan has two major religions that coexist, Shintoism and Buddhism. Spirited Away draws from Shintoism, meaning way of the gods in Japanese. These worship gods are sacred spirits called kami, believed to take form in natural places and concepts in life, such as animals, plants, stones, mountains, fertility, and the dead. Miyazaki's imagery, borrowed from Shintoism, mirrors his blame of modern Japan's corruption on the shedding of traditional practices and ways of living. In Shinto, water embodies purity and cleansing and is the power of life. Its importance is emphasized by the water purification basins called temizuya, used for cleansing rituals at the entrance of shrines before entering. Stagnant water resembles spiritual pollution, but when it flows, carrying away the impurities, it clears the mind, embracing a calmer state of flow. Running water and waterfalls are held with sacred gravity in Japanese culture. There's an ancient Shinto and Buddhist practice of waterfall meditation called takigyo, where a person tests their mental and physical resilience by standing under a waterfall to purge impurities and connect with nature. Do you think nature might be Chihiro's soul in this context? In Buddhism, flowing water symbolizes the ongoing cycle of samsara, the sequence of life, death and rebirth. The way each person is reborn is shaped and contaminated by one's karma, the universal law of cause and effect where every action has a consequence. Buddhism teaches us to honor this state of flow when each piece of our karma arises, from happiness and suffering, pleasure and pain, success and failure, it must pass through us like a flowing river that continues to change moment by moment. Suffering manifests from clinging to our desires or pushing away out of fear. The way we liberate ourselves is by letting it all go, these desires and fears, sitting still in flowing water without being moved by the arising of powerful karma. Well, that sounds...uncomfy. But then there's the shore of liberation when we reach nirvana, however that's going off track now. So combining the Buddhist concept of rebirth with the Shinto belief of purification, this could be the turning point for Chihiro's character arc. As the spirit world lights up, coming to life, it marks the beginning of Chihiro shedding her impurities and moving toward her spiritual death and rebirth. This is one of the many instances of foreshadowing in this movie. Speaking of, the word for frog in Japanese is this, which is the same word for to return. Frogs are associated with forward movement and in this way are symbolically linked with travel, bringing protection and blessings to travellers for their safe return. In Japan you can find small amulets and charms with frogs that are made for people to carry with them on their journey returning home. Purposely placing the statue here, just as the chaos picks up pace in the movie, marks the shift into a realm of the unknown, foreshadowing the luck Chihiro will need as she navigates this unfamiliar world. Does she temporarily? Stuck in. Then she literally begins disappearing, before a big, bright, bodacious, bodacious wow, boat parks up in front of her with numerous spirit guests deboarding. She runs away again, but luckily for her, he turns up, telling her she has to eat this or she'll vanish from this world. That felt a bit like a red pill moment. It works, and they're about to move, but stop when he suddenly spots this circling above them. Suspicious bird with human head. Nothing more meaningful than the obvious connotation of a stalking bird here. It glides away and they run, run, run, stopping just before a bridge leading to... the bathhouse. He tells her not to breathe while crossing so it doesn't break the spell of moving unnoticed. She holds her breath. What are you? The music's really good in this scene by the way. And here we have the first something to notice her, apart from no face. It's fitting that he's the one in the spirit realm to point out Chihiro as a human. The character of a frog may have acted as a good omen for her eventual safe return, though ironically, it seems like he would have jeopardized that anyway by snitching. They're off again, and find somewhere to hide while everyone inside searches for the human intruder and the boy, now understood to be He tells Chihiro she needs to escape while he distracts them, giving clear telepathic instructions on where to go and who to see. Haku tells Chihiro she must ask Komachi for work even if he refuses, saying if you don't work, Yubaba will turn you into an animal. This bit's important since it solidifies the central theme of the movie. You can't live if you don't work. If you don't work, you can't consume, which people think they need to live. Yubaba is the sorceress of their world. She's like the capitalist kingpin controlling the workers who keep the bathhouse running. This is the operation behind modern working life. We, guardians, are the workers. Like bees in a colony. Except this isn't always a beautifully natural work of collaboration. It's a system built for productivity at the expense of spirit, a man-made hive that runs on burnout. We work, eat, sleep, and enjoy our allocated time off, squeezing in arranged short-lived fantasies before returning to the part of life we've separated as work, accepting that life only happens in the hours left around it. Cutting our time short means sacrificing our freedom, to explore, make mistakes, reflect, connect with self and nature, and dance to the rhythm of our pace that isn't confined to schedules or productivity. We begin to lose a part of our identity, becoming working animals that are kept well-fed just long enough to keep producing. And if you don't work, you become an outcast, losing your place in the system. It's not entirely our fault. We can get caught up in the grind and... I don't know how this got relevant. But this is a system that's intentionally been put into place, so it's really about us snapping out of the capitalist consumer hypnotism. Chihiro's making her escape. She takes the stairs. Bum bum bum. Finds the boiler room and looks for Komaji like Haku said. Here he is. We meet him through observation. Together with Chihiro, we quietly watch him work. This scene is framed to require our gaze and cast a deliberate judgment. The first thing we notice is his six long arms, like a spider's legs, is what we pay attention to and what we dread approaching. He introduces himself as Komaji, slave to the boilers that heat the baths, while his arms work busily with their own tasks. As the boiler room operator and preparer of the herbal soaks, he's the only one apt for the job because of his physiology for multitasking. It's relatable to the work ethic of corporate and white-collar employees who rely on multitasking to get their jobs done, those who can't fall behind, and are critiqued for not being able to juggle more than one task at once, which normalises overworking. Our impression of Komaji so far is someone to avoid. An old man working in a room that's dim and empty except for his shifting shadow. He looks like a wolf spider. The glasses. The much. We feel threatened by his intimidating orders and low angle shots, but just like spiders, he's misunderstood. Komaji has a resemblance to spider-like creature Tsushigumo from Japanese folklore. It is a yokai, which is a class of supernatural spirits and entities. Tsutsuchi means soil or earth, and kumo means spider. It's believed to be derived from an older derogatory term, Tsuchigomori, meaning those who hide in the ground, used for rebellious Japanese clans who wouldn't submit to imperial authority in the expanding state of Yamato. These groups, believed to be indigenous people or natives, utilise cave systems or built dugouts to live and defend themselves. In official records, they were given a violent reputation and described as inhabiting the mountains and having physical abnormalities, but this could have just been a biased effort by officials who wanted to perceive them as asbos. The Nihonji is the second oldest compiled book of legends about Japan's history. It starts with a Japanese creation myth. In the text, Tsushigumo were of the same class of pygmies, having short bodies and long arms and legs and were hunted down by the emperor. By Japan's medieval period, they had developed separately from history, evolving into folklore as these huge, monstrous spider-like yokai, using illusion and trickery to lure their prey, sometimes by shapeshifting to deceive humans. They're quite popular in Japanese pop culture, appearing in video games and anime, but the distance between this evil spirit and the indigenous people the term was originally coined for is a juxtaposition we can see in Komaji too. Like the natives who hid in the ground, he lives on the lowest floor of the bathhouse, separated from everyone but the tiny soot. He seems mean at first, ignoring Chihiro's pleas for a job and yelling, finish what you started, when she almost gives up helping tiny soot. But when she does as he says, our understanding of him softens, her stubbornness and instinct for helping win him over. When a bathhouse worker, Lin, enters the boiler room, telling Chihiro, after seeing her, that she's in trouble, Komaji unexpectedly claims Chihiro as his own in a gentle tone we haven't heard before. He's protecting her with all the influence his position affords, even taking on her problem by convincing Lin to take her to see Yubaba for a job. His whole introduction was set up for a symbolic contradiction, eerie-looking spider physiology, caring grandpa at heart. After bribing her with a roasted newt, Lin agrees to take Chihiro to Yubaba. But before we get there, Lin is a fox. Not as in my opinion, a fox spirit. In the Japanese picture book, she's described as a Byakko, meaning white fox. However, in the English picture book, Byakko is translated as Chinese weasel. Byakko is a kitsune, which is type of fox spirit and a common yokai. These holy foxes act as messengers of the gods. They're white-furred, kind, and helpful to people. There are many types of kitsunes, with different supernatural abilities, including spiritual possession, invisibility, influencing luck, and shapeshifting, which Byakkos can also do. In Japanese tales, when they reach a certain age, usually around 100, this power unlocks and strengthens with age. They're not limited to forms they take, but more often than not, they impersonate young, attractive women. They might do so for selfish reasons, like seducing young men, bringing misfortune, vengeance, or death. And sometimes, they shift to become protective deities and devoted allies. Japan has a legendary love story about a nobleman who saved an injured white fox while walking through the forest of Shinoda. Moved by his kindness, the fox slipped into the form of a woman and later reintroduces herself as Kuzunoha, her true identity masked from him. They fall in love, marry, live peacefully, and give birth to a son who displays similar supernatural abilities. One day, her mask slipped in front of her son and revealed her true form, so she left her human life behind along with the poem to her son and husband, telling them, if you love me, come seek me in the forests of Shinoda. They followed her message and she appeared in the forest briefly, giving her son two powerful treasures before parting ways from them forever. There's a term, kitsune gao, meaning fox-faced for women with narrow faces, closed set eyes, thin eyebrows, and high cheekbones. This type of beauty refers to the kitsune that takes the form of these beautiful women. Yes. Yubaba lives all the way up on the top floor, so they make their way there, followed by a large radish guest. This is where we get to see inside the bathhouse for the first time. Okay, you, you, are called a tori-sama and are just a fictional manifestation of Miyazaki's imagination. Just as they're about to take the elevator, a bathhouse worker calls Lin, who discreetly pushes Chihiro in the lift along with the large radish guest. He tells her she reeks of human and accuses her of hiding something. She says, it's this. I thought there'd be something more to this roasted newt. And there might be. They were once used as an aphrodisiac, apparently. It's been said that during the Edo period in Japan, female workers in brothels would either sprinkle charred newt on their clients or prepare a tincture that would ignite the sexual senses. From what I looked up online, these accounts come from only a few recently published websites with no reliable sources of older texts mentioning them. It's possible it could have been an oral tradition that was practiced and passed down, retold or exaggerated. I dunno. But this is what's interesting. From as early as 1614, some Japanese bathhouses also partly functioned as brothels. There are parallels to the concept of selling yourself, but in our initial understanding of the movie, it's for the productivity of labour. The women working in these Japanese bathhouses were called yuna, and were responsible for preparing food, washing and massaging the customers. Eventually, they began to offer sexual services and entertainment after hours. They even had a gentleman's club type area on separate floors strictly for this purpose. They were eventually banned from offering these services, and then soap lands emerged, which you can read more about here because I'm getting back to our child-friendly movie now. Chihiro's on her own now. She gets flown in by Yababa and finally comes face to face with her. There's definitely some tightness between them. Set off by Chihiro's inspiring determination to get a job. Yababa remembers the oath she took to give a job to whoever asks, so she grudgingly gives her one. Along with the contract, Yababa takes Chihiro's name, and part of her identity, like the other residents and workers in the bathhouse who don't remember their real names. Haku's back. He's Yababa's apprentice. He pretends not to know her and leads the way, passing her over to Lin again, who'll be acting as mentor. The next morning, Haku quietly tells Chihiro to meet him at the bridge so he can take her to see her parents. She bumps into No-Face again before meeting Haku, and then… mum and dad. In situations like this, what you should do is cry. And eat whatever the boy with nice hair and lovely voice gives you, not real life advice. Once Chihiro's done eating and crying, she then heads back. Not before noticing something that suddenly appears in the sky. He's back. And showing leg. This is a warm moment. She chooses to take a short rest near where Komachi sleeps. It's a perfect gloomy day for Chihiro's first day at work. Swish. Again. She kindly leaves the door open so No-Face isn't left outside in the rain. She and Lin then get downgraded to cleaning the big tub just as their first customer's about to arrive. It looks a little bit like muck. They start preparing the herbal soak. No-Face appears, offering Chihiro more tokens for the herbal formula. He actually says, eh? But Chihiro naturally resists greediness. The guest has arrived, and he's a stink spirit. Which means a lot more herbal formula. Chihiro notices something stuck in the spirit, so they all gather together to help yank it out, and out comes all this crap. The stink spirit was actually a polluted river spirit, a mighty one, clogged by consumerist waste. Beyond the environmental damage it has, it reflects the mental and emotional clutter caused by excess. Our hero sits thoughtfully after a long first day. Meanwhile this one's acting sus. And now we know why. Remember how I told you that frogs symbolise the spirit of return? This includes prosperity, particularly wealth. People in Japan might carry around frog charms or keep small images of them in their wallets to attract money and good fortune coming back to them. Statues of frogs with money placed in front of them are a widespread practice, found inside and outside homes, temples and shrines. Anyone, like a traditionally lucky frog with a natural advantage, can abuse their power or push their luck, facing a consequence for indulging in greediness. It's a battle of resisting something you can have and what you shouldn't, like Chihiro effortlessly passing on taking more tokens than she needs. No Face continues spreading his offerings to other bathhouse workers, except now he's chunky and sounds like the frog he swallowed. The next morning, Chihiro runs to her mum and dad with the medicinal herbal cake the river spirit gave her for unclogging it, but she can't find them. She keeps calling out to them, but the pigs begin crowding her, squealing really loudly, and then she wakes up. Leaving her room, she finds everyone already up and desperately working away for a new guest at the bathhouse. We know who it might be. Oh my god, he's massive. Chihiro's not really bothered about grabbing the gold like the rest and says she's going to see Komachi. She stops by the river first. This must have looked really pretty in Miyazaki's drawings. Hmm, a dragon. That was what appeared in the sky previously. To her surprise, Chihiro knows the dragon is Haku and he's in danger from whatever's attacking him. They're paper birds, also known as Shikigami, very close to my favourite word Shinigami. These are different from the supernatural entities we've come to know so far. They're not gods like Kami or wild independent spirits like Yokai. They're slaves. Shikigami are summoned in a ritual by powerful practitioners of Onmyōdō, a spiritual system that emerged from the 8th century. It literally means the way of yin and yang, the philosophy of opposing energetic forces of the universe, like darkness and light or good and bad, in constant cyclical motion, which creates natural balance. Neither can exist without the other. These individuals, known as Onmyōji, studied the stars and seasonal cycles, measured time and created calendars, believing that shifts in celestial movements reflected changes in yin-yang energy, which shaped both nature and human life. By tracking these cosmic rhythms, they could identify auspicious days when yin and yang were in harmony for important actions, like travel, If the balance was disrupted, they could foresee misfortune through unusual celestial signs or seasonal misalignment. They'd perform purification rites or exorcisms to drive out harmful spirits seen as manifestations of that imbalance. They also applied this understanding to healing, treating illnesses as a sign that the bodies' yin and yang were out of sync with its environment, and used remedies such as spiritual rituals, protective charms and herbal medicine to restore health and cosmic equilibrium. This is a very brief overview of a deep topic I don't pretend to know vast amounts about. Shikigami have a vague presence in Japanese mythology. There are barely any written records of them until the later periods of Onmyōdo, so they've essentially evolved over time and then through different mediums. Their loose identity has left plenty of room to play with in pop culture, shaping them into whatever suits the story. Their most terrifying quality though, is that they don't act on their own will, showing no mercy as they carry out their service. So exactly who are they serving? After colliding with the wall, the pieces of paper have a sudden change of motion, gracefully flying out the window again. Haka is badly hurt and either looks pissed, exhausted or locked in. He barges past Chihiro and unevenly flies to the top of the bathhouse where Yubaba is. She runs after him, and something follows closely behind. Not sure if this is a good or bad something yet. These guys are doing too much. With great power comes great chonkiness. Chihiro's desperately making her way through a crowd of desperate people, and they come face to face again. He's still intrigued by her, and makes one more attempt at an offering, but she don't want it, or rather, need it. He's flabbergasted and starts freaking the **** out, eating the workers in a hangry fit of anger, panic and rejection. I wasn't going to say anything about this, but since the frog's feet make it animal related, it's valid. No-Face transformed into Chonky No-Face ever since eating the frog, embodying his victim's overindulging personality and using his voice to communicate with people. It's the first time we begin to understand what No-Face truly is, which is… nothing. Harsh. But he has no sense of self, wanting to latch onto others and acting as an extension of whoever he interacts with. So he lives through imitation. As soon as we come into the world, we're blank canvases. The longer we live, the canvases painted with reflections of our experiences and interactions that make up our self-portrait. The bathhouse symbolises a big business in a capitalist society, driven by greed and monetary interests. When he enters the bathhouse, No-Face is only drawn to Chihiro for her unique kindness and tries to get closer to her, but in this environment the only way he knows how is by giving her something material. Since she didn't take the bait, he turned to others to fill his cup by offering them gold. The workers were happy to oblige, but he realises the relationship is transactional, so he continues to buy to make himself feel better, literally feeding his void, but never quite fulfilled by the selfish, greedy personalities of the workers, and still hopeful for a chance at Chihiro accepting him through his offerings. The bathhouse residents and workers become a bad influence on him by encouraging him to spend more, resulting in a really big problem. It represents the consumerist mindset of buying happiness, similar to Chihiro's parents, who justified stealing the food they wanted by assuring that they'll pay for it all anyway. Miyazaki implies that we can easily become corrupted by our environment, but like Chihiro, we should find ways to avoid it. Chihiro has some steps to climb if she wants to be a hero. Just birds. So the paper is actually a good guy because it warns Chihiro about Y2K Yubaba coming up behind her. She made it, but she's stuck behind a locked window. Ah, this is that Leonardo DiCaprio Wolf of Wall Street meme. I know this contradicts what I said before about Shikigami being spiritual servants, but there are like one or two stories about them going rogue. One of them comes from an early 13th century text. Apparently it mentions Shikigami acting independently after the Onmyoji who originally summoned them forgot about them. Remember they don't have a clearly defined role in mythology to portray, so here it's serving as a redemption arc in helping Chihiro. Just a pterodactyl. In a child's room, Chihiro overhears Yubaba telling someone to get rid of Haku. Oh ----, she's coming this way. So Chihiro hides in a pile of pillows before Yubaba gets there to wake up her baby. Big baby. Who's sleeping in the same hiding place. Yubaba leaves and the coast is clear. Until big baby pulls Chihiro back, demanding her to play. Turns out baby's a germophobe, so she shows him her dirty hands so he'll let go of her and runs for Haku. Finding him on the floor of Yubaba's office, possibly dead. Saving him is not easy. Luckily big baby makes his grand entrance, demanding again that they play. Then the paper starts speaking in the same voice as Yubaba. It transforms into a Yubaba doppelganger, who zaps big baby into a mouse and Yubaba's bird into shmorebed. This is Yubaba's twin sister, Zeniba, who's been looking for Haku since he stole a precious seal from her house under Yubaba's command. The seal's protected by a charm that will kill anyone trying to steal it. Everything happens pretty quickly now. Chihiro refuses to hand Haku over. The three heads that into a fake big baby diverts their attention. Haku suddenly wakes up, destroys the paper, making doppelganger Yubaba vanish, that's so hard to say, and they fall into a pit that suddenly opens in the floor. I like this team. Okay, speeding this up now. Haku with a burst of energy saves them, and they end up breaking into the ceiling of the boiler room. There's something inside of Haku that's killing him, so Chihiro feeds him the herbal cake, and he spits out the parasite Yubaba used to control him along with the stolen seal. To save him, Chihiro announces she's going to return the seal to Zeniba, ask for forgiveness, and for her to help Haku, but quickly fixes this one first, feeding him what's left of the herbal cake, and then the gang's all ready for their road trip. They've arrived. Guardians, look, it's a frog on the seal that she traveled to return. They're having tea, and Zeniba says she can't help Chihiro with Haku or her parents. She has to do it alone. She's confused. It's tender and cutesy over here. The boys are helping Zeniba to spin thread and knit. Chihiro says she has to get back to the others in case something happens to them. And just like that, Haku finds her. They embrace, and everything's lovely. Zeniba no longer blames Haku for stealing the seal while under Yubaba's spell, and she forgives him. It's time for them all to leave and head back. Except for No-Face. Zeniba tells him to stay as her helper, which he agrees to enthusiastically. He learned that from helping Zeniba, just as Chihiro had helped him, he can have genuine friendships by acting with sincerity and exchanging kindness, rather than buying them like at the bathhouse. They're gliding home in a hero's journey kind of way. When Chihiro has a sudden recollection, she tells Haku that one time, when she was little, she fell into a river after chasing her shoe and almost drowned. That same river was later drained and built over with buildings. She remembers what the river was called. Haku's real name is Kahaku. Let's finally get to the dragon. Japanese dragon stories were strongly influenced by Chinese and Indian legends. They're illustrated as a composite creature in Chinese folklore, made up of various parts of different animals. The scene where Haku and Chihiro fall through the aircrack was similarly inspired by different animals Miyazaki imagined. He wanted the dragon to have its legs spread to either side and stuck to the wall like a lizard, and then, when it falls, to be like a snake falling out of a tree. Its twisted movements mirrored those of a struggling eel, like when they're cleaned at an eel restaurant before being cooked up. Even when Chihiro feeds Haku the herbal cake, Miyazaki uses the example of a dog being fed by its owner showing it how to eat. But his team of young animators had never actually owned any dogs, so they visited a nearby veterinary practice just to conceptualise how it would look. Dragons are mythologically ambiguous. They're an emblem of wisdom, success, and strength. But in Japanese tradition, many were depicted as the enemies of powerful gods that feed on human sacrifice, or are pure and wise, sometimes serving as gods themselves. When Haku remembers his full name, the enchantment breaks and his scales scatter into the air, while he is free-falling with Chihiro. His name translates to God of the Swift Amber River, so it seems like he's a river spirit, which might be obvious from the dragon's graceful, swirling movements that mirror the river he once was. Chihiro, hearing Haku's name for the first time, says it sounds like a guardian spirit. There is one story that echoes this narrative, about a dragon called Watatsumi, a legendary kami that lived in a palace beneath the sea as a sea god. When a human hunter reached his palace after diving into the ocean to find his brother's fish hook, he was welcomed and sheltered by Watatsumi, also ended up marrying his daughter. And when the hunter wanted a return to the human world, Watatsumi helped him to return safely. This is just like Chihiro wandering into the spirit world and Haku acting as her guardian spirit, rescuing her from danger and guiding her back to the human world. There's other stories of Watatsumi saving shipwrecked sailors or travellers who fall into the sea, guiding them to his underwater palace. After being helped or purified, they return to the human world with a gift or blessing. Similar to how Chihiro is lost in the spirit world and, through her obstacles, becomes purified, and with Haku's help returns home with a gift of personal growth. I just spoiled that, ****. Not to mention, Haku as the river saved Chihiro when she fell into him and carried her to shallow water. Like Watatsumi, Haku is a guardian of water and mediator between worlds. It might surprise you though that I don't think the dragon symbolism in this movie is meant to connect specifically with legends and mythology, but more with the concept of what mythology represents, respected culture. Japanese dragons are widely associated with water. Whether they're seen as evil creatures dwelling in these waters or not, they're a part of nature. Miyazaki may have borrowed these cultural motifs from Shinto, but for his own purpose in delivering a personal message. Humans are f***ing with nature. With nature. With nature. Haku, as a human, personifies Shinto principles. First of all, he's a river spirit. Remember, water is a fundamental element in Shinto, as a means of cleansing and renewal. So he is an agent of purification. Secondly, the garment he wears is something similar to a hakama, which is part of a Shinto priest's attire. The colour blue might also resemble his attachment to water, just like the teal and white colours of his dragon form. Maybe that's another idea to consider about his identity. The connection with his inner spirit will never truly be forgotten. It's a little bit like what Zeneva said to Chihiro when they were both having tea. Haku's respect for the traditional values of Shinto culture may be Miyazaki's way of demonstrating how ancient principles can guide modern society to preserve what came before us. Nature is the most ancient aspect of life. It outlives us all. Haku was once the spirit of the Kahuku River, but once it was drained and built over, his connection with the river was lost, a disconnect from nature we can all relate to through growing modernisation. Without a home, he wanders into the spirit realm, where his name and association with the natural world are forgotten. He becomes less authentic, weak enough for Yobaba to control him as her apprentice, just as we're manipulated by the desire to participate and grow in the material world. The jobs we live to work tirelessly for, and the dreams we sleep to, feed an illusion of progress that's driven by consumption. Once Chihiro reminds him of his roots and that his real name is Kahuku, he's freed from Yobaba's spell. He's bright and seems smiling for the first time. It was the same for the Stink slash River spirit. Throwing up all the consumerist junk cleansed him, leaving him unrecognisably pure. Both spirits are a reminder that nourishing nature, the external, helps to nourish our internal in return. The pull of greed begins to fade when we notice ordinary things that we'd usually overlook, and life starts to feel fuller. Not because we have more, but because we're interested in what's already around us, and it becomes more meaningful. How are we going to fall in love with the world if you don't pick berries? Right? That's the gateway. That's the gateway. Or picking a bouquet of flowers. Which is right. Actually try it. They're still falling, but eventually drift on cloud nine the rest of their way back, where there's one last test waiting for Chihiro. Identify her parents. She's gonna be stuck here. Or not. It's actually a trick she correctly guesses. Her parents aren't in the mix. We have no idea how she knew that. The contract blows up in Yobaba's face. Everyone's happy. It's cute. They're cheering for Chihiro. She runs back to Haku, and I'm starting to feel sad now. They've returned to the beginning at the end. Haku tells her her parents have gone ahead, and that he can't go any further. He tells her not to look back until she's out of the tunnel. And she doesn't. Until she's reunited with her parents before they continue their journey to their new home. With the new lessons that were learned along the way. The end. So she just never sees them again. Haku. Komachi. The ducks. I don't know how movies like this are made. It was so good. And I'm not gonna bother to begin to explain, but it felt like I was in a picture of a beautiful moving world. It's not just the imagery that stands out, but the content that's unique and open to interpretation, yet simple in its meaning. It's calling us out. Telling us not to get trapped in the fake world that's committed to relentless accumulation of stuff and richness. Greed and material wealth offer no real satisfaction, because what happens when it's all gone? So forget the labubus, guardians. Start by being happy with what you have, by imagining if you didn't have it. I'm not sure how you can make gratitude feel genuine. I think the simpler your needs are, the easier they'll be to fulfill. A lot of the time that happens after enduring your own hero's journey. What once mattered, felt scary or painful, now doesn't, and all you feel is gratitude for your renewal. Ah. Thanks for watching with me. Bye!