Lupin, Totoro, Chihiro, and Mahito… If you recognize all these characters, then you’re already familiar with Miyazaki’s captivating, inspiring, and magical worlds.

Hayao Miyazaki is an artist whose films stand out for their emotional depth and artistic uniqueness. Each new film feels like his rebirth, where he emerges from his inner world and comes alive to create another masterpiece. Although he is often called a creator of “kind fairy tales,” his films are filled with pain, anger, and the quiet acceptance that humanity may be doomed.

We tried to select the best of his animated films, but it was quite difficult considering the number of outstanding works Miyazaki has in his filmography.

🎬 Lupin III: Cagliostro no Shiro / Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro (1979)

✨ An Adventurous Debut

Miyazaki’s first feature film is part of the well-known “Lupin III” franchise, about the thief Lupin, who is so confident in his abilities that he sends calling cards to his future victims, detailing what he plans to steal. Miyazaki began his career in the early 1970s, directing this film and collaborating with Isao Takahata, who would later become his closest partner and co-founder of Studio Ghibli.

Today, “The Castle of Cagliostro” is considered his first attempt at showcasing his incredible talent. With thrilling chases, heists, romantic intrigue, and the subtle spirit of 19th-century European adventure novels, Miyazaki managed to encapsulate all this into one film. However, it’s hard to find the true Miyazaki in this film; you need to search for his signature in the subtle details of animation, in his love for Old Europe, and in the depiction of movement where the characters feel more alive than reality. It’s understandable why “The Castle of Cagliostro” holds a transitional place in Miyazaki’s filmography—many fans consider his true debut to be “Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind.” But this should not be seen as a dislike for the film; it is a good movie, it’s just that later Miyazaki would start creating truly great cinema.

🎬 Kaze no Tani no Naushika / Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984)

✨ The First True Miyazaki

Another “debut,” this time Miyazaki’s first independent feature film, based on his own manga. It’s a beautiful post-apocalyptic drama about a world where nature has literally risen against humans. The lost humanity is surrounded by toxic forests and giant, terrifying insects. Some try to fight fate with fire, while others, like the protagonist Nausicaä, try their best to find a connection with the toxic world around them.

Miyazaki moves away from the strict genre forms of “Lupin” and chooses freedom. He dedicates many scenes to quiet observation, admiring the terrifying beauty of the deadly forest, often leaving the protagonist alone with her thoughts. In the end, he uses all his resources to create a grand and terrifying action scene where people desperately try to destroy the last thing that can save them.

This could have been considered one of his best films, if not for one big “but”: later, Miyazaki would make a very similar film, but much better—“Princess Mononoke.”

🎬 Tonari no Totoro / My Neighbor Totoro (1988)

✨ A Serene Film on a Painful Topic

Two sisters move to a new home and encounter kind magical creatures in the forest. This is how one of the most important films of Miyazaki’s career begins. The film that later solidified Studio Ghibli’s position and elevated the director to one of the most famous animators of our time. The charm of the film is not immediately obvious: there is no sharp conflict or any concrete plot. Throughout the film, we simply watch as two little girls discover the wondrous magic.

However, as is often the case with Miyazaki, the light of the film is born from pain. The magical world is so delightful because it contrasts with the emptiness of the parental home. At some point, we understand why the girls are free to roam the forests, and their only guardian is their busy father: their mother is sick and in a nearby hospital. This is Miyazaki’s own open wound—a person who lived for a long time with his mother, who was bedridden due to tuberculosis. He had to grow up and take responsibility for others at a very young age. “My Neighbor Totoro” is so filled with childlike innocence because the director himself didn’t have such a childhood. This is a therapeutic film—for him and for the millions of viewers for whom the soft forest spirit has been a symbol of all the good and just things that life can offer children since 1988.

🎬 Majo no Takkyūbin / Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989)

✨ A Magical Film About Everyday Things

It’s not that Miyazaki is always concerned with the fate of the world and the sins of humanity in his films. The director can work incredibly well with more subtle themes. For example, “Kiki’s Delivery Service” is a simple, everyday film. It’s the charming story of a young witch trying to find her place in a bustling European town, working as a delivery girl thanks to her magical broom and her charming cat Jiji (who doesn’t really have anything to do with the job but cannot be left out).

Here, Miyazaki uses magic not to transport the viewer to another world, but to make our familiar world a little more magical. Essentially, “Kiki’s Delivery Service” is a tender story about a teenager’s self-discovery, moving to a big city, and becoming a responsible adult without losing the magic of childhood.

🎬 Mononoke Hime / Princess Mononoke (1997)

✨ Miyazaki’s Most Brutal Film

A young man tries to save his village by ridding himself of a curse and finds himself in the middle of a war between an industrial city and the inhabitants of the forest. The plot sounds like a typical eco-fairytale, in line with Miyazaki’s other works. But compared to “Nausicaä,” here the unexpected brutality stands out. The director has never shied away from showing blood in his films, but in “Princess Mononoke,” he deliberately emphasizes the horror of a broken world. For example, the curse makes the hero so strong that his arrows can cut off the heads and limbs of his enemies.

It’s easy to get lost in the contradictions here. The conflict between technological progress and nature has many complex facets. Miyazaki doesn’t divide the characters into desperately bad and unquestionably good. The hero, together with the audience, finds himself in a situation where the mysterious world around him is not fully understood. This can be confusing at first, but it’s also the film’s charm. It’s as if the film is absolutely transparent, but at the same time, it avoids precise definitions, preferring vivid imagery over boring didactics. The epic finale, where the spirit of the forest passes through its domain, almost rejects words altogether because, after all, there seems to be nothing more to say to humanity.

🎬 Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi / Spirited Away (2001)

✨ An Oscar-Winning Triumph

It’s rare to see a film that can so powerfully transcend all cultural barriers. “Spirited Away” took the world by storm and became the only non-English-language animated film in history to win an Oscar (in 2024, it was joined by “The Boy and the Heron”). The film probably convinced many skeptical viewers that Japanese animation can be so understandable and captivating.

This is the story of Chihiro, who tries to save her parents from a parallel magical world. The film has become a classic, and it’s hard to imagine that any modern fairytale animator doesn’t watch this film whenever they face creative struggles.

Over the years, the value of “Spirited Away” only grows. Neither the magical creatures’ stunning designs nor the touching story of a girl who cannot help but worry about those suffering around her ever seem to age. But in the age of fast information and short content, you begin to appreciate anew Miyazaki’s ability to work with pauses, plot gaps, and silence. One of the best moments in the film is not a bright scene or a heartbreaking dialogue, but Chihiro’s train journey. A quiet episode that strikes a chord with the audience’s soul. It turns out that sometimes you can just be silent, slow down, and the magic will still be there.

🎬 Hauru no Ugoku Shiro / Howl’s Moving Castle (2004)

✨ A Stylish Anti-War Steampunk

A steampunk drama about a girl who turns into an old woman due to a curse. This film represents a combination of some of Miyazaki’s most beloved characters. There’s Calcifer, the amusing fire demon; Howl, the charming wizard; and, of course, the titular Moving Castle, a giant steam-powered machine seemingly constructed from various mechanical elements stacked upon each other. This incredibly unique castle is beautiful and surprisingly harmonious with the rural landscapes. It’s a fantastic symbol of how machines and nature can coexist.

Against this backdrop, it’s easy to forget that the plot of “Howl’s Moving Castle” isn’t as refined as the individual scenes. The film’s tone was heavily influenced by Miyazaki’s disdain for the Iraq War; he even boycotted the American premieres and the Oscars. This approach seems to somewhat harm the film: Sophie’s truly charming story is interrupted by contemplations about humanity’s drive for self-destruction. Miyazaki’s message is understandable and important, but in his other films, he didn’t sacrifice clarity for the sake of morality.

🎬 Gake no Ue no Ponyo / Ponyo on the Cliff (2008)

✨ The Director’s Kindest Film

After “Howl’s Moving Castle,” Miyazaki decided to take a break from worrying about the fate of the world and create a film in a completely different style. “Ponyo on the Cliff” was significantly influenced by his visit to the Tate British Gallery, where the usually self-critical director realized that no matter how meticulously he crafted his works, he would never reach the greatness of the old masters. So, he decided to go in the opposite direction and make a deliberately minimalist, childlike film about a fish who befriends a boy and wants to become human.

The greatest value of “Ponyo” lies in its simplicity. This film seems like the quintessence of all the bright elements in Miyazaki’s works: his sensitivity towards children’s emotions, his ability to create worlds you never want to leave, and, finally, his tolerance towards humanity’s negative traits. The film’s so-called “villain,” Ponyo’s father, is by no means a bad person, just a slightly confused and nervous parent.

🎬 Kaze Tachinu / The Wind Rises (2013)

✨ Miyazaki’s Most Mature Film

The poignant story of Jiro Horikoshi, an aircraft designer who always dreamed of being closer to the sky but was born in a time when his talent could only be used for war. This is perhaps Miyazaki’s most controversial and contradictory film; it lacks the magic, extraordinary creatures, or fairytale-like feeling that many love about his work. It’s a harsh, grim film where the heroes aren’t saved by kind witches or soft forest spirits. Instead, the film is dominated by death and destruction.

Yet, it’s surprising how much life and light there is in the film. Jiro has a true love, though it will soon fade due to tuberculosis. His dreams come true, even though the planes he designs will kill people. With this storyline, Miyazaki could have made the saddest film in the world, but he continues to search for happiness amidst the horrific pile we’ve come to call civilization. He is a positive pessimist. “The Wind Rises” expresses this contradiction better than any other work of Miyazaki. It’s a beautiful film about terrible things and an incredibly lively film about death.

🎬 Kimitachi wa Dou Ikiru ka / The Boy and the Heron (2023)

✨ A Sorrowful Epilogue to a Career

If “The Wind Rises” was the director’s loud farewell, where he opened his soul to the audience with nothing more left to say, then “The Boy and the Heron” is more of a modest postscript to an impressive career. It’s, dare I say, a somewhat ambiguous film. Miyazaki once again shows a child trying to save his relatives in a magical world, with the backdrop of World War II and airplanes. The film feels like a remix of his past works, and if not for the underlying sadness, the director could be accused of insincerity and playing on nostalgia.

The repetitiveness of “The Boy and the Heron” is softened by the impact of certain scenes and images. Yes, Mahito’s story may not be the most captivating in the director’s arsenal. But bloodthirsty pelicans devouring innocent unborn souls or a burning hospital with the mother inside remind us of the scale of the artist we are dealing with. The film’s occasional confusion can be explained by the author’s intention. Towards the end, it turns into a surrealist film about filmmaking itself, a bright and melancholic reflection on how even the wisest creators cannot truly control the world they have created. Miyazaki seems to acknowledge his own powerlessness in the face of his legacy, and that requires incredible courage.

Thus, Hayao Miyazaki has created a vast world in which many have grown up. Magic, unique characters, and profound questions—these are things close to everyone’s heart. No matter how many times you watch these animated films, you discover something new every time—new meanings in every frame. Hayao Miyazaki is truly one of the geniuses of our time.