Fall is deeply nostalgic for me.
Perhaps it’s the distinct warmth of wearing a sweater and scarf in the crisp fall weather, reminding me of when my parents would dress me up as a child, bundling me up just enough to not feel the small chill. Perhaps it’s the cozy feeling of drinking a tall, warm glass of chocolate milk, taking me back to the days in the morning, where I would drink it before school. Perhaps it’s just everything at once that makes me think of my childhood and growing up.
As the previously-green leaves transition into a stunning ombré of orange-red and gold, and fall from the branches, it almost seems like a waterfall of the memories we’ve made over the past year. We shed those memories to make room for new, brighter ones in the spring, with the memories we made in the winter being the first to sprout.
It’s a continuous cycle that happens every year without fail. We start anew in the spring — no matter the good or the bad, the forgettable or the unforgettable, we leave it all behind. While we don’t forget those memories, they become remnants of the past to look back upon.
I believe that is why I associate Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away with fall and the nostalgia that comes with the season.
Having not been exposed to stories about Japanese folklore before, it is a film that I can fondly name as my first in-depth exposure to Japanese culture.
I still remember the first time I watched Spirited Away as a child. It is an experience I vividly recall, in both imagery and feeling. Sitting next to my parents on our long, black, leather sofa, we watched it together on the living room TV in our old apartment. In the crevices of my mind, I can envision the orange-red and gold landscape of the outside, peeking through the windows.
I remember feeling terrified while watching the movie, stricken by the adventure the 10-year-old protagonist, Chihiro Ogino, was thrust into. As someone who feared losing their parents even at a young age, it was like seeing my worst nightmare incarnate when Chihiro’s parents became pigs and were taken away from her. Seeing the different spirits she encountered also frightened me, being easily spooked by the paranormal.
However, at the same time, I was also mystified by the vast display of Japanese culture and depiction of the different Kami. They were unlike anything that I had ever seen before, and the gorgeous art and animation gave the entire film a sense of unreplicable magic and mystique. Regardless of how scary it seemed, the Kami world still managed to enrapture me.
Most of all, I remember being inspired by Chihiro’s bravery.
Chihiro watched as her parents transformed into pigs in front of her very eyes, and without any time to comprehend it, she was then forced to confront the realm of Kami, working under the witch Yubaba to try to save her parents. This was a girl who had barely crossed the threshold into adolescence. Despite the fear she felt, she knew, there was no other option than to be brave. Through the course of her adventure, I watched as she grew up and matured while still being unapologetically herself. It made me aspire to be like her when I was older.
I didn’t know it at the time, but Chihiro’s experience of moving to a new place would soon become my reality later in life.
Just like Chihiro, when I was 10 years old, I moved from everything I had ever known to a city entirely unfamiliar with me. Just like Chihiro, I didn’t want to move.
Unlike Chihiro, however, I didn’t have the closure of parting ways with my friends. Without my friends’ contacts, I couldn’t tell them that I wouldn’t be there the next school year. So, during the summer, we left without a word.
Two months after our move, I stumbled upon our copy of Spirited Away. As I put it into our DVD player to watch, it felt like fate had brought the film to me just when I needed it. Outside the world was painted in the palette of fall again.
Rewatching the film as a 10-year-old, it spoke to me in ways that it couldn’t before. Where before, I was both frightened and mystified by the spirits. I could only see fascination in their appearance, their abilities, and Chihiro’s interactions with them. Even the parents’ transformation into pigs didn’t terrify me as it did when I was younger, though it still was unsettling to see the grotesque, gluttonous nature of the scene.
As I watched, I just admired Chihiro even more, for her perseverance and resilience in the face of unknown adversity. This time I could personally relate to her, being the same age. If she could handle moving, losing her parents to a corrupted witch’s curse, working in a bathhouse that had yōkai, shikigami, and other Kami, and confronting the mutated and monstrous form of No-Face, then why couldn’t I face this new life head-on?
It was comforting in a way trying to emulate Chihiro’s bravery, feeling a kind of kinship with her as a character.
Chihiro and her story hasn’t been on my mind for a few years. Sitting in my room with a warm glass of chocolate milk and bundled in a sweater, staring at the scattered leaves that decorate my window sill, I’m reminded of how she was there when I needed her.
Spirited Away has become a comfort film that I can take so many new things away from each time I rewatch it. It is so close to my heart for all that it has done for me, and it is indubitably one of my favorite Studio Ghibli and Miyazaki films. I have grown alongside Chihiro, who represents my childhood, as well as the growth I have undergone from being that once-scared yet bright-eyed little girl.
I find the ending especially beautiful. After all of the experiences she had, she was able to return back to the beautiful greenery of the real world, discarding the memories — but not forgetting — to allow for the new experiences she’ll discover in her new home.
It becomes nostalgic every time I see the sprawling green fields, realizing that it’s the end — both of the movie and of another year.
This fall I already know I will be rewatching Spirited Away again, to see Chihiro overcome all the hurdles in her way and relive the captivating magic of my childhood. No matter how much time passes, it’s a given that I’ll be inspired by her endless bravery once more.