Hayao Miyazaki Through the Eyes of a Toddler

by Steve DiMatteo

Until recently, my three-year-old son still loved to sleep in our bed and had always raged against the machine of a normal bedtime in a comfortable crib or bed of his own. And since he’s our first-born, my wife and I have always been more or less subjected to those whims. That’s just how it goes.

But as he would lay his head on my chest every night and fall asleep, I found I was in no rush to boot him out, even if he would sleep-punch me in the head on occasion (okay, most nights).

One of our rituals was to watch at least some of a movie before bed, and with my son obviously in the mix, our available catalog was severely limited to things that are appropriate, non-nightmare-inducing fare. And thanks to HBO Max - quickly becoming the best streaming service by far in terms of its library of content - the world of Hayao Miyazaki has become open to us.

My own experience with Miyazaki has really only ever come from 1997’s Princess Mononoke, which I saw for the first time in middle school and have since revisited plenty, loving it more with each viewing. But I’ve never taken a full plunge into Studio Ghibli, and I figured now is as good as time as any to see what my son thinks of it as well.

Together, we took in 2001’s Spirited Away and 1988’s My Neighbor Totoro. I had a feeling he’d like them - and not just because Tim Daly is the voice of the father in the English dubbing of Totoro! - because he’s been drawn to animated movies like every other child under the sun, but I didn’t expect he’d absorb them so intently, as if he understood they were speaking to him on a level like nothing else had been able to do before.

Animation of all kinds is of course part of our regular rotation, and our kids certainly love the characters, the songs, the assorted antics. But a lot of the animated fare out there is seemingly out to pummel the senses, whiplashing from one scene to the next, as if there’s always an assumption children are going to get bored if you aren’t doing something manic or ripping a fart.

I’m not above any of that by any means, and there are of course exceptions, but in at least Spirited Away and Totoro, there is an understanding that children are more thoughtful than most people give them credit for and maybe even too aware of the world’s ills, but that doesn’t come with the cost of sacrificing one’s imagination. Being a child means existing in a colorful world you don’t quite understand, but to you it’s no less magical.

When I watch my son run around the house, lost in imagining he’s a superhero saving the day, or perhaps Godzilla himself destroying an entire city, I think about the way Miyazaki is able to capture a child’s whimsy on screen, where life is unadulterated joy, with the outside world always looming, reminding us that it is right there waiting to chip away at that joy for the rest of our lives with a profound sadness.

But for now, as part of his regular rotation of whimsy, he’ll look at me and say, “Remember when those people got

turned into pigs?” Or we’ll be walking in the park near our house and wonder if Totoro is hiding in any of the trees, the gears turning in his head, maybe seeing something I just can’t behind my grown-up eyes.

My son has since moved to his own bed and has never wasted an opportunity to tell us he no longer likes our bed. He couldn’t imagine a scenario where he’d want to sleep with us again. Another moment I wished away too quick, but grateful to have had it - the eternal struggle of being a parent to toddlers.