Spirited Away (1): Navigating Economic Collapse Through Fantasy

Though it has been over 20 years since its release, the 2001 Studio Ghibli classic Spirited Away (Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi), written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki, remains as enjoyable and thought-provoking today as it was when it first came out in Japan. This animated film centers around Chihiro, a 10-year-old Japanese girl who suddenly becomes stuck in the spirit world. There she encounters Haku, a young boy who rescues her and tells her that to survive, she must work for Yubāba, the money-obsessed owner of a bathhouse for the kami (Shinto gods). However, Haku warns Chihiro that she must not forget her real name, because if she does, she will never be able to return to her own world. This movie follows her struggle to survive, escape, and also rescue her parents, who were transformed into pigs. Throughout the course of the story, Chihiro encounters a cast of fantastical characters like Kamajī, a spider-like elderly boiler-room operator, and No-Face, a shy ghost who turns greedy when he learns he can get attention from others by magically spitting out gold pieces.

English language trailer for Spirited Away

Looking back decades later, I find that this movie reflected the post-bubble anxieties of a recessionary Japan. By the mid-1990s, it was becoming apparent that the recession was the new normal, and that young children could expect a life of economic struggle and diminished job prospects. Chihiro, then, is coming of age in a new society of depersonalized human relations, economic competition, and widening social inequality. In retrospect, this movie can be seen as a manual for young women on how to survive in Japan's post-bubble society. The film continues to resonate with Generation Z worldwide who recognize its themes of economic struggle, identity preservation, and the importance of human connection in an increasingly impersonal society.

Japan's Economic Crisis and Its Cultural Impact

Here’s a youtube clip on the effect of the postbubble collapse on youth

To understand the film's deeper meaning, we must examine Japan's economic history and how it shaped an entire generation. During the 1980s, Japan experienced what economists call the "bubble economy," a period of unprecedented financial growth when people spent money freely, real estate prices soared to impossible heights, and companies made increasingly risky investments backed by easy credit from banks. This era was characterized by excessive consumption, lavish spending on luxury goods, and a widespread belief that economic prosperity would continue indefinitely.

However, in 1990, this economic bubble burst, leading to what became known as Japan's "Lost Decade" of economic stagnation that actually should be called the "Lost Decades" since it extended well into the 2000s. The economic slowdown brought severe consequences that fundamentally changed Japanese society. During the 1960s high-speed growth years to the 1980s Bubble years, the Japanese employment system was built on the principle of lifetime employment, where companies hired workers straight from university and provided job security until retirement. This system particularly benefited male workers, while white-collar women often worked as office assistants called "OLs" (office ladies) until they married men with secure jobs and became full-time housewives.

The post-bubble years saw the erosion of this traditional structure. Companies could no longer afford to promise lifetime employment and began replacing many permanent workers with temporary contract employees who had no job security, fewer benefits, and lower wages. This diminished job opportunities also fueled the growth of a new class of part-time workers called "freeters" (freelance part-timers) and eventually led to the rise of "NEETs" (Not in Education, Employment, or Training), young people who gave up on finding stable work altogether.

For women, the economic downturn presented both opportunities and challenges. While some companies began hiring women for positions previously reserved for men, many women found themselves forced to work out of economic necessity rather than choice. The traditional path of marriage to a financially stable man became increasingly difficult as fewer men could offer economic security. Women had to learn to depend on themselves.

(Mild spoilers ahead)

The opening scene of Spirited Away directly reflects this economic collapse and its underlying causes. It starts with Chihiro and her parents stumbling across an abandoned amusement park. There they find an impressive spread of delicious food mysteriously laid out as if for a feast, and begin to eat it, telling Chihiro that they will pay for it later. However, as they succumb to their primal desires and dig into the food, they end up getting transformed into pigs. This scene utilizes one of the popular bubble-era investments—amusement parks—which had sprouted up all over Japan. With the collapse of the bubble, many closed as suddenly as they had opened, leaving a trail of abandoned parks nationwide. Thus the abandoned park is a reminder of the bubble boom—and Chihiro's parents, when they figuratively and literally start pigging out, are an allusion to the reckless consumption that led to Japan's economic downturn. Spirited Away is presented from the perspective of an average ten-year-old girl thrown into a frightening new world through the fault of her parents—much like how Japanese women were thrust into a new economy. The film appeared to tell young women that the recession was the "new normal" in which they would have to work hard to pay off the debts of their parents' generation.

Keeping Your Identity in a Depersonalized World

Befriended and aided by Haku, with whom she mysteriously feels a bond, Chihiro enters the bathhouse for kami (Japanese nature gods) and agrees to work for the witch Yubāba, the owner. As a result, she undergoes a transformation that mirrors the experience of many young workers entering the corporate world. Yubāba takes away her real name and gives her a new identity as "Sen," which means "1,000" in Japanese, reducing her from a unique individual to a mere number in the company's system. This renaming represents how modern corporations often strip workers of their individual identity and treat them as interchangeable parts in a machine.

Haku, who works as Yubāba's assistant, serves as a warning of what can happen when someone completely loses their sense of self. He has forgotten his original name and identity, becoming entirely dependent on Yubāba and unable to exist outside the bathhouse system. His situation represents workers who become so absorbed in their corporate roles that they lose touch with who they were before entering the company. The film suggests that this loss of personal identity is one of the greatest dangers facing young people in the modern economy.

The importance of remembering one's true name becomes a central theme throughout the film. Names in Japanese culture carry deep significance, representing not just identity but also one's connection to family, history, and personal values. Sumo represents this tradition, as sumo rikishi (wrestlers) are given a shikona, a ring name that becomes their new identity. Chihiro fights to maintain her sense of self in an environment designed to erase individual identity. This struggle reflects the real-world challenge of maintaining personal values and relationships while adapting to demanding work environments that often prioritize efficiency and profit over human dignity.

The Reality of Hard Work and Personal Growth

This trailer shows Chihiro hard at work to survive

Chihiro's transformation from a privileged, somewhat spoiled child into a capable and confident worker reflects the harsh reality that many young Japanese people faced during the post-bubble era. At the beginning of the film, she is portrayed as dependent on her parents, reluctant to engage with new situations, and quick to complain when things become difficult. However, her circumstances force her to develop resilience, work ethic, and problem-solving skills that she never knew she possessed.

Her work in the bathhouse is deliberately unglamorous and challenging. She must clean floors, carry heavy loads, and deal with difficult customers, including a severely polluted river spirit whose cleansing requires enormous effort and courage. These tasks represent the reality that economic survival often requires taking on jobs that are physically demanding, emotionally draining, or socially undervalued. The film does not romanticize this work but shows it as a necessary step in Chihiro's development from childhood dependence to adult self-reliance.

The transformation also emphasizes that true strength comes not from avoiding difficulty but from facing it with determination and maintaining one's values throughout the process. At first Chihiro is frightened and cries at her predicament. Eventually, Chihiro becomes stronger not by becoming harder or more cynical, but by developing empathy, observational skills, and the ability to see humanity in others, even in the strange creatures she encounters in the spirit world.

No-Face: The Destructive Nature of Unchecked Greed

Surprisingly, the character of No-Face (Kaonashi) plays a key role in the film. He serves as one of the film's most powerful symbols of how economic systems can corrupt individuals and relationships. Initially, No-Face appears as a lonely, harmless black spirit with an emotionless white mask seeking personal connection. However, when he discovers that producing gold earns him attention from the bathhouse workers, he becomes increasingly addicted to this form of validation. The more gold he produces, the more the workers fawn over him, feeding him elaborate meals and treating him as an honored guest. This mirrors the newly rich in the Bubble Era, who could flaunt their wealth through flashy clothes, imported wine, and overseas trips.

No-Face's transformation in the bathhouse is disturbing to watch. He changes from a gentle spirit into a ravenous monster who grows more bloated and demanding. The spirit world's treatment of No-Face mirrors how modern society often values people primarily for their economic contributions rather than their inherent worth as individuals. The gold eventually turns out to be worthless, revealing the shallow nature of relationships based purely on economic exchange.

The resolution of No-Face's story occurs when Chihiro treats him with genuine kindness rather than focusing on his ability to produce gold. When No-Face pursues Chihiro after she rejects his gold, Chihiro tosses medicine into his mouth. This helps him purge the excess he has consumed, returning him to his original gentle nature. Once purged of this desire, No-Face joins Chihiro on a quest to help save Haku, who is in danger. This transformation suggests that authentic human connection and compassion are more powerful than economic incentives in creating meaningful change in people's lives.

Students from North America found No-face relevant because economic competition exists worldwide, so young people everywhere face job insecurity. And today, years after the anime’s debut, social media can make people feel "faceless," and the pressure to succeed can make people lose themselves.

The key insight about No-Face is that his problems aren't internal—they're environmental. When Chihiro takes him away from the bathhouse to Zeniba's peaceful cottage, he becomes gentle and helpful again. This suggests that the competitive, money-focused environment of the bathhouse brings out the worst in people, while environments that value simple human connection bring out the best. Chihiro, fortunately, has chosen the latter, valuing friendship over money, while still realizing the need to work.

Conclusion: Fantasy as Social Commentary in Post-Bubble Japan

Miyazaki mixed fantasy adventure with serious social messages, creating a movie that spoke to both children and adults in Japan during difficult economic times after the 1980s bubble economy burst. The story follows Chihiro as she changes from a helpless child into someone who can take care of herself, showing how powerful storytelling can be in helping people understand complicated social problems and imagine how things could get better. The movie's lasting popularity proves this power, making Spirited Away not just a beautiful animated film but also an important part of conversations about how societies can help people live good lives during hard times like the one Japan experienced after its economic bubble burst. 

Parts of this post appeared in the April-May 2020 issue of Wasabi magazine.