The essence of The Tale of Princess Kaguya, an artistically drawn Studio Ghibli film, comes from a fairy-tale. The film follows the journey of said princess as she falls down from her idyllic life on the moon on to earth, where she falls in love with the animals and people she encounters. Through her life on Earth, the princess acquires the ability to feel, both sadness and happiness, completely. While life on Earth is imperfect – it is raw and visceral and very real – it has meaning. In comparison, while life on the moon is perfect, there is no emotion and no depth behind the utopia.
The film captures the essence of wabi-sabi, a Japanese aesthetic that focuses on beauty found in mundane or imperfect, everyday objects and occurrences. Although the beginning of the film has a fairy-tale tint, the depth of the story belies its simple animations and pastel colors.
Does beauty really lie in imperfection though? There are many instances where Studio Ghibli insists, yes, beauty resides within imperfection.
As Princess Kaguya adapts to royal life, dozens of suitors line up at her door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the beautiful princess. Her father, delighted by the prospects of having his daughter marrying into royal blood, allows the five finest suitors in all of Japan to come to the princess. When in front of her audience, the Princess asks each suitor to convey their thoughts. The suitors compare the Princess to fantastical, magical things – from the stone bowl belonging to Buddha to a scale from a dragon’s neck. The Princess asks her suitors to then bring her these magical items if they truly believe she is as beautiful as them. Not surprisingly, each suitor fails. Their failures establish the idea of not revering perfection.
The opposite can be seen in Albert Camus’ The Stranger, a novel dealing with existentialism and the general indifference of the world. The iconic opening line of The Stranger – “Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know” – reveals Meursault’s indifference from the very first line. Throughout the story, from his mother’s funeral to his anticlimactic engagement, Meursault treats his world the way it treats him – indifferently.
He emotionally detaches himself from life and in return, life does not weigh him down with emotional burden. He is not sad or anxious or angry, but nor is he happy. Meursault “los[es] the habit of analyzing [him]self” and his feelings. He says he “probably loved Maman but it didn’t mean anything,” so in turn, he is unaffected and indifference when Maman dies.
His emotional life is stagnant, a flat line, whereas Princess Kaguya’s emotions are mountains, their cliffs soaring above and plunging below indifference.
But is Meursault still living his life to the fullest? The answer is debatable. Meursault does not live a perfect life – far from it – but he accepts the happenings of the world with detachment. Camus concludes the novel with Meursault’s final realization – that both he and the world are indifferent, and that Meursault has found a companion in the universe. This conclusion leaves Meursault at peace.
Each person has their answer (or perhaps, lack thereof) to what constitutes a meaningful existence. In the case of Princess Kaguya and Studio Ghibli, the answer would be imperfection. In The Tale of Princess Kaguya, life is depicted as startlingly vicious and visceral. And yet, there is beauty in the savageness, a certain degree of delicacy in the workings of the world.
The film captures the essence of wabi-sabi, a Japanese aesthetic that focuses on beauty found in mundane or imperfect, everyday objects and occurrences. Although the beginning of the film has a fairy-tale tint, the depth of the story belies its simple animations and pastel colors.
Does beauty really lie in imperfection though? There are many instances where Studio Ghibli insists, yes, beauty resides within imperfection.
As Princess Kaguya adapts to royal life, dozens of suitors line up at her door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the beautiful princess. Her father, delighted by the prospects of having his daughter marrying into royal blood, allows the five finest suitors in all of Japan to come to the princess. When in front of her audience, the Princess asks each suitor to convey their thoughts. The suitors compare the Princess to fantastical, magical things – from the stone bowl belonging to Buddha to a scale from a dragon’s neck. The Princess asks her suitors to then bring her these magical items if they truly believe she is as beautiful as them. Not surprisingly, each suitor fails. Their failures establish the idea of not revering perfection.
The opposite can be seen in Albert Camus’ The Stranger, a novel dealing with existentialism and the general indifference of the world. The iconic opening line of The Stranger – “Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know” – reveals Meursault’s indifference from the very first line. Throughout the story, from his mother’s funeral to his anticlimactic engagement, Meursault treats his world the way it treats him – indifferently.
He emotionally detaches himself from life and in return, life does not weigh him down with emotional burden. He is not sad or anxious or angry, but nor is he happy. Meursault “los[es] the habit of analyzing [him]self” and his feelings. He says he “probably loved Maman but it didn’t mean anything,” so in turn, he is unaffected and indifference when Maman dies.
His emotional life is stagnant, a flat line, whereas Princess Kaguya’s emotions are mountains, their cliffs soaring above and plunging below indifference.
But is Meursault still living his life to the fullest? The answer is debatable. Meursault does not live a perfect life – far from it – but he accepts the happenings of the world with detachment. Camus concludes the novel with Meursault’s final realization – that both he and the world are indifferent, and that Meursault has found a companion in the universe. This conclusion leaves Meursault at peace.
Each person has their answer (or perhaps, lack thereof) to what constitutes a meaningful existence. In the case of Princess Kaguya and Studio Ghibli, the answer would be imperfection. In The Tale of Princess Kaguya, life is depicted as startlingly vicious and visceral. And yet, there is beauty in the savageness, a certain degree of delicacy in the workings of the world.
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