Introduction
Studio Ghibli movies are what I would describe as works of art in motion. They are beautiful, often emotional stories that we see ourselves in — through a combination of realistic characters, beautifully animated scenes and scenery, music that adds an additional emotional component to the story, and the real-life lessons they impart. We’ve likely heard of their popular films such as My Neighbor Totoro, Spirited Away, and Princess Mononoke — but there is one out there that likely does not have much recognition despite its beauty and real-life lessons about the pressures of growing up. In this essay, I will write about The Tale of the Princess Kaguya, a movie that recently left me astounded at the message it conveyed. Although this movie takes place in a time and culture we’re likely a bit unfamiliar with, it is still very relatable.
Note: This piece of writing contains spoilers for The Tale of Princess Kaguya. Read at your own risk. In order to get the best experience, I would recommend watching the movie for some more perspective.
The story of a child born from a bamboo plant
Studio Ghibli’s The Tale of the Princess Kaguya tells the story of a rather peculiar child born of a bamboo plant. We get a sense of her as a divine being sent from the heavens — from the moment she is born, she is seen as a blessing. However, despite her unusual birth and quick growth, she is a regular girl.
This is evidenced by the scenes of her life as a child. While she is referred to as “Princess” by her parents, she is simply “L’il Bamboo” to the village kids. They don’t care about her status and behold her fast growth with a sense of awe, not feeling any different about her. She feels at home with them and lives with regular childhood pleasures, such as curiosity and even mischief. For instance, we see a scene of Kaguya stealing a melon from a field, very much unlike a princess!
The imagery in this film is watercolor, delicate and soft and almost like a painting come to life. The music also reflects the feeling of a life filled with joy, wonderment, beauty, and pain throughout its various cycles. At the beginning of this movie, we see beauty in a quiet life, surrounded by nature — beauty in wildflowers we often take for granted, in the seasons as Kaguya grows, in the nostalgic scenes of childhood. We are seeing a fast progression of the stages of life in this film with Kaguya’s rapid growth: she grows like bamboo, but this also enables us to see a life filled with all kinds of emotions and experiences.
In this film, we get an image of a life in the country. It is a relatively simple life living off of nature — a pleasant, modest life filled with friends and joy in the simple things. But to her parents who see her as their pride and livelihood, this is not a sustainable form of happiness for a princess.
The Weight of Expectations
Despite seeming like a regular girl in many ways, Kaguya is a golden child burdened with the weight of expectations. To her parents, she is seen as a princess rather than a regular girl deserving of the freedoms of childhood; as a blessing not of this world despite her very human nature. This is something a child learning about themself cannot understand — to a child, the world is full of awe, curiosity, and learning, yet there are times that a child is burdened with expectations placed on them that they did not choose themselves. Children who experience this may start questioning themselves and who they really are as they grow up, perhaps feeling fraudulent. This is something we see as the film processes and Kaguya emotionally matures beyond her fast physical growth.
Kaguya’s life in the village is disrupted with no warning as she is taken to the capital to live as a princess — a life where she wears fine robes and is taught how to be a noble lady. However, she still has this childish sense of fun unbefitting of a lady of status with no desire to be a princess just yet.
When she comes of age and wishes to invite her childhood friends to the banquet, her father turns this down by saying they live in a different world than them. It is as if he forgot this is the life they came from, the roots of where and who they are today. Here we can also see a bit of a class struggle that occurs, in which he views Kaguya’s old friends as unbefitting of her new status — though she herself does not see them this way. In these situations where she feels burdened by the tribulations of life, she often connects with nature and sings the song of her childhood, as if reaching for a connection to her roots. Hasn’t where we started from shaped who we are today, after all?
In this scene, Kaguya sings the song of her childhood that describes the cycles of life not only in nature, but in our lives:
“Birds, bugs, beasts, grass, trees, flowers
Flower, bear fruit, and die
Be born, grow up, and die
Still the wind blows, the rain falls
The waterwheel goes round
Lifetimes come and go in turn”
A caged bird who sings for freedom
Kaguya wants to be a normal girl, yet the expectations placed on her do not allow this freedom.
At her coming-of-age banquet, she is hidden from the sight of the guests for days, unable to experience this excitement and joy herself. As if in a dream, she returns to her home in a state of sadness and rage after hearing how the men at the banquet wish to see her beauty. She sheds the layers of her fine clothes as she runs home and finds that it has been abandoned — the villagers cut down too many trees and had to move on. While she was living a life of luxury, her friends were still living off the land, dependent on the forest for their livelihoods. It is as if she lost her roots while she was in the palace.
Later on, she also watches one of her childhood friends, Sutemaru, stealing a chicken — he stops when she calls out to him and is beaten. She feels sorrowful and powerless to help. This is an image of the roots that she grew from: a quiet life that turned into a life of survival. While her friend tries to survive physiologically, she is trying to survive emotionally.
Kaguya has an additional expectation placed on her when she comes of age: she is expected to marry a man of nobility that she will not meet until the wedding day — that her happiness is dependent on what another person can give her rather than what she chooses herself.
She asks the suitors to bring her the impossible treasures that they compare her beauty to, despite never seeing her. They spend years in search of these treasures, as if they love an ideal version of her rather than her true character. They bring fakes in response, though one suitor makes an offer to leave the formalities behind and live off the land — speaking beautiful words that momentarily entrance her despite his history of leaving women in sorrow. Thus, she sees everything as a fake, including herself. She ends up lashing out at nature out of anger, as if she is denying her fate as a princess born of bamboo.
While Kaguya’s mother empathizes with her — and assures her that this is not her fault — her father still pushes demands on her that she does not wish for. Unable to see her true desire in life, her father tells her that she will find happiness in a life of luxury provided by royalty she does not know. In actuality, what he sees as her happiness is his own, as he would benefit with a court rank:
[Mother]: “You don’t understand how she feels?”
[Father]: “You don’t understand! This is what I’ve been working for. A court lady! There is no greater happiness for a girl in this land”
She stands up for herself and refuses. She decides to choose her own path without having to appease those around her, stating “If your happiness depends on a courier’s cap, then I will go to him. When I see you wearing that cap, I will kill myself.”
However, despite her refusal, the royal who made the offer is entranced by Kaguya’s beauty and forcefully wraps his arms around her. She is afraid, yet he ignores her response and explains that no woman is unhappy when he does this and that if he wishes it, she must be his. In this moment, Kaguya stands up and slips out of his grasp as if she is a ghost — disappearing from his sight as if she is refusing to exist in a world where she had no voice.
We cannot defy the cycles of life
Despite our wishes to maintain our youthful beauty, we all must wither like flowers over time. We start to get wrinkles and imperfections as a natural part of life. So is their focus on her beauty an expectation for her to defy the laws of nature? Will they still love her when she changes before their eyes?
In response to a rather traumatic event, she stares at the moon every night as if she longs to return to the place she belongs — a place where she can be herself, unburdened by a life where her wishes are disrespected. A simple life where she does not need to fit the standards of a princess. She no longer visits her mother or engages in the things that made her happy. This is a character facing what seems like depression in a film that was once whimsical and happy, embodying the joys of youth. Yet she is now grown up and going through a period in life where she longs for a happy, fulfilled life where she chooses her path with freedom. But she had made a plea to return to the moon without realizing it, wishing to free herself from the expectations placed on her. This is reminiscent of death in a way, a cycle of life we cannot avoid no matter how hard we try.
When Kaguya is sad about her fate, her father blames her rather than apologizing or comforting her — asking what they have done to deserve this instead of realizing that his version of happiness was not the same as hers. This is a very human character — one who lets his hurt get the best of him without taking a moment to consider how she feels. Sometimes when it’s difficult to take the blame for something, we choose to misplace the blame instead of reflecting on what actually went wrong — as we cannot blame one side without understanding our own faults as well. We need to communicate our desires and needs in order to come to an understanding where we feel loved and respected, though this is often difficult with those we love.
What would have happened if he had apologized and told her that what she wants for herself is more important than what he expected of her? This is an answer we can only assume. It seems like she never had the choice to move forward from this… But a story of sorrow for her is also a story of hope for us. It leaves the message of a need for communication and subsequent connection: when faced with a choice between our desires and the desires of those we love, we should try to understand and compromise. We should give the people we love most the ability to flourish according to their own version of happiness, with kindness and understanding — guiding them along the way when faced with struggles.
We must not forget what we’re here for
Despite his words and actions, Kaguya’s father has always loved her as his own child since the day he found her in the bamboo stalk. Is her father truly a villain like how we see him or is he just a human who was sadly drawn to the potential of fame and wealth, forgetting what truly mattered in the end? Though he raised her in a way that set high expectations that were harmful to her mental health and seemingly ignored what she truly desired, he is but a flawed human. While his demands are unacceptable and make Kaguya unhappy, don’t we all have times when we place our expectations on others or even ourselves? In essence, he just wanted a happy child but did not realize that his version of happiness was not the same as hers, forgetting that she is the master of her own fate in the end. He is still anguished when he realizes that his daughter must leave and wants to protect her. In the time he faces loss, he takes a moment to recognize her importance, grateful for the moments he spent with her. But shouldn’t we always be grateful for the people we love, not only in the moments when we’re about to lose them?
It is only at the moment that Kaguya must leave that she remembers why she is alive:
Kaguya: “But now that I have to leave, I finally remember why I came down to this place… and why, in this strange land, I’d always known that song… Ah, that’s right. I was born to truly live! Just like the birds and the beasts.”
Remember we all must depart this world. How will we leave it in the end?
On the moon, Kaguya will forget her sorrows and joys that she experienced on earth — almost as if she is facing death. Is it not death in a way to lose what makes us who we are? She had decided that the pressure on her is too much and wished for an end to her suffering — and cannot take back her decision once she’s made it. Sometimes in our darkest times in life do we start to see the light.
Before she departs, Kaguya returns to her true home in the small village where she was born and sees nature’s return. Perhaps we need to return to our roots to examine what we want out of life. Maybe as a child, we were curious, joyous, and free — living without worries of what we are to achieve in the future. How can we feel these again as adults?
Upon returning to the village, she meets Sutemaru again. He expected her to be happy in the capital with the things he didn’t have, such as nice clothes, a mansion, and fine food — yet we see that this did not make her happy after all. She really wanted a home where she belonged, where she was free to explore and play with her friends. She wouldn’t mind wearing poor clothes, half-starving, and stealing food — things that he was unhappy to experience. She finds gratitude in a quiet life despite living in luxury, happy that they’re alive. It may be too late for her but it is not too late for us. We could try. We could run towards the things that would make us happy. We could find joy together in the small things. In simply being together with our loved ones. Though Kaguya no longer has this option, this movie gives us hope that we can once again connect with what once made us happy.
We all have one thing in common — we all must leave the Earth. We don’t have a choice. She’s grateful for her joyful experiences despite her sorrow. And that feeling in the end is what it means to truly live:
“There’s joy, there’s grief. All who live here feel them in all their different shades. There’s birds, bugs, beasts, grass, trees, flowers…and feelings.”
The heavenly procession plays cheerful music despite her leaving. Perhaps she fulfilled her reason for being on earth after all — although she left behind her life and family, their memories of her will carry on.
Conclusion: real-life lessons conveyed in this film
Overall, this was a beautiful, meaningful, and emotional film. I related to this film, considering that I was a student who was expected to achieve great things. Part of it was expectations on myself and part was the expectations placed on me when I was labeled as a “gifted” student. Though this was motivating in a way, it was also harmful to my mental health.
But when are these expectations too much? I think it’s too much when we use this to define our values. We start to place emphasis on what other people think of us rather than what we think of ourselves; on how we measure up to others. Maybe we think if we slip up and show others a side that must not be seen that we’ll lose respect. Sometimes this idea breaks us and holds us back from who we truly are.
We may be labeled as intelligent, yet have times where we don’t meet these expectations. But is this all we are?
No, there are many things we are valuable for besides this one trait. Perhaps we are kind, a good friend, have a love for people or animals, appreciative of natural beauty, and so on. So we can find happiness in these traits as well, and develop our virtues to support this happiness.
We don’t have to always meet the expectations of others. We can be flawed just like everyone else. But there is some good quality that makes the difference when we feel insufficient. There is love from those who are close to us, and in empathy once we expose our vulnerabilities. So, in this case, is being intelligent all there is in life? No, being a good friend is valuable. Being driven to make a difference in people’s lives is valuable. We can take solace in the fact that we don’t have to be perfect because no one has ever been perfect.
Someone who truly loves us will still accept us with our imperfections — and those who do not accept us for when we are less than perfect are not worth our time. Like in Kintsugi, there is beauty in imperfections. There’s still value in a broken piece of pottery — we just need to learn how to fill the cracks with gold to enable us to shine brighter. We can learn to laugh at our mistakes and tell ourselves that it’ll be okay. We don’t have to take ourselves too seriously all the time, understanding that we are flawed and that we still have an opportunity to grow.
Maybe we, too, need a quiet life for our happiness, where we just live modestly without standing out. Where we connect to nature and enjoy the moment, rather than focusing on who we will be in the future.
We don’t have to be perfect or exceptional. It is human to laugh, sweat, have little moments of joy, and so on. We may be a kind person but also a bit grumpy when we’re hungry or sleepy — and that’s okay. We must also accept our past experiences as something we cannot go back and change, but we can learn from these experiences to move forward and grow. We must learn how to forgive ourselves and tell ourselves it is not entirely our fault if we go through something traumatic. We are human. Flawed, yet beautiful.
This film was a journey and shows that the entertainment we consume can be used to inform us of who we are and who we want to be. Thanks for reading!
