Everyone says Hayao Miyazaki is the creator of Studio Ghibli.
It’s an easy shorthand. You see the white beard, the apron, and the chain-smoking intensity in every documentary, and you think, "Yeah, that's the guy." But honestly? It's a bit of a lie. Or at least, it’s a massive oversimplification that ignores how the studio actually survived its first decade.
If you want to get technical, Studio Ghibli wasn't a solo project. It was a triangle. You had Miyazaki, the visionary; Isao Takahata, the intellectual giant who actually discovered Miyazaki; and Toshio Suzuki, the producer who basically tricked the world into buying what they were selling. Without any one of them, Ghibli would have folded after Castle in the Sky.
The Partnership That Built a Kingdom
Most people don't realize that when Miyazaki and Takahata founded Ghibli in 1985, they were already "old" by industry standards. They weren't hungry kids. They were seasoned veterans who were tired of the soul-crushing grind of Japanese TV animation.
Takahata was actually Miyazaki’s senior. He was the one who mentored him back at Toei Animation in the 1960s. While Miyazaki loved planes and European architecture, Takahata was obsessed with neo-realism and high-concept storytelling. Think about Grave of the Fireflies. That’s Takahata. It’s brutal. It’s grounded. It’s nothing like the whimsical magic of My Neighbor Totoro.
Yet, they shared a single, stubborn goal: quality at any cost.
This was a terrible business model.
In the mid-80s, the "smart" move was to outsource frames to cheaper studios or use limited animation to save money. The creators of Studio Ghibli did the opposite. They insisted on full animation, hand-painted backgrounds that looked like fine art, and stories that didn't treat children like idiots.
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Why Miyazaki Isn't Just an Animator
If you’ve ever watched a Ghibli film, you’ve noticed the "ma" or the emptiness. The quiet moments where a character just sits and waits for a train, or watches rain fall into a puddle.
Miyazaki calls this "gratuitous motion."
It’s the reason the films feel so human. Most Western animation is terrified of silence. They think if a character isn't talking or falling down, the audience will get bored. Miyazaki leaned into the boredom. He understood that the creator of Studio Ghibli isn't just making a movie; they're building a world you can breathe in.
He is notorious for not using scripts. Seriously. He starts drawing storyboards before the ending is even written. The film grows as he draws it. It’s an organic, terrifying way to run a multi-million dollar production, but it’s why Ghibli films feel like dreams rather than products.
The Hidden Hand: Toshio Suzuki
We have to talk about Suzuki. If Miyazaki is the heart and Takahata was the brain, Suzuki is the blood.
He was an editor at Animage magazine who realized that Miyazaki’s discarded ideas were better than most people's finished work. When no one wanted to fund Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind because it wasn't based on an existing manga, Suzuki told Miyazaki: "Fine, go write the manga first."
He basically engineered the demand for the studio's existence. He’s the one who negotiated the Disney distribution deal in 1996, which finally brought Ghibli to the global stage. Without Suzuki's ruthless marketing and protective stance over the creative process, Miyazaki would have likely stayed a cult favorite in Japan rather than a household name globally.
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The "No-Cuts" Rule and the Weinstein Incident
There’s a famous story—mostly true—about when Miramax (under Harvey Weinstein) wanted to edit Princess Mononoke for the US release. They wanted to trim it down, make it "snappier."
The response from the Ghibli camp was legendary.
Suzuki reportedly sent Weinstein an actual katana in the mail with a simple note: "No cuts." It sounds like movie myth, but it perfectly encapsulates the stubbornness of the Ghibli founders. They didn't care about the American box office as much as they cared about the integrity of the frame. That’s why the Ghibli brand carries so much weight today. You know you're getting the pure, unadulterated vision of the director.
The Perfectionist’s Burden
Working for Miyazaki is, by all accounts, a bit of a nightmare. He’s a self-proclaimed "man of the 19th century." He hates computers (mostly), he hates the modern obsession with speed, and he expects his animators to live and breathe the work.
The studio famously shut down its production department for a while after The Wind Rises because Miyazaki retired (the first of many times). He realized that the "Ghibli way" was unsustainable without his specific, obsessive oversight. He had spent decades trying to find a successor, even putting his own son, Goro Miyazaki, through the ringer with Tales from Earthsea and From Up on Poppy Hill.
But the truth is, the "creator of Studio Ghibli" isn't a title you can just hand over. It’s a philosophy. It’s the belief that a single blade of grass moving in the wind is as important as the giant robot flying overhead.
The Real Impact of Isao Takahata
While Miyazaki got the Oscars, Takahata stayed the "director’s director."
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His film The Tale of the Princess Kaguya took eight years to make. It nearly bankrupted the studio. It uses a sketchy, watercolor style that looks like it’s dissolving as you watch it. It’s a masterpiece that most casual fans haven't seen, and it represents the other side of Ghibli: the experimental, avant-garde spirit that refused to be pigeonholed as "just for kids."
When Takahata passed away in 2018, it broke Miyazaki. You can see it in his latest film, The Boy and the Heron. It’s a movie about legacy, about what happens when the master of a world dies and leaves no one to maintain the towers he built.
Exploring the Ghibli Philosophy
What can we actually learn from how these guys built their empire? It wasn't about "branding" or "market fit."
- Obsess over the small stuff. Miyazaki spent days figuring out how a character should put on their shoes. If the physics of the small things are right, the audience will believe the big things (like flying dragons).
- Don't fear the silence. In a world of "content" that screams for attention, Ghibli’s success proves that people actually crave moments of reflection.
- Hand-crafted matters. Even as Ghibli experiments with CGI (like Earwig and the Witch, which... let's be honest, wasn't their best work), the core of their appeal remains the human touch. The imperfections of a hand-drawn line create a connection that a perfect digital render just can't touch.
How to Experience the Legacy Today
If you want to understand the creator of Studio Ghibli beyond the surface level, you have to look past Spirited Away.
- Watch 'The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness': This documentary is the best look at the daily friction inside the studio. It shows Miyazaki as a complicated, often grumpy, but brilliant man.
- Visit the Ghibli Museum in Mitaka: It’s not a theme park. It’s a "house of stories" where you can see the actual tools of the trade. (Note: You have to buy tickets months in advance; they don't sell them at the door).
- Compare 'Totoro' and 'Grave of the Fireflies': They were released as a double feature in 1988. Watching them back-to-back is the only way to truly understand the range of the studio’s founding fathers.
Moving Forward With the Ghibli Mindset
The story of Ghibli is a reminder that being a "creator" isn't about having a great idea. Everyone has ideas. It’s about the stamina to stay weird for forty years.
Miyazaki is back in the studio again, likely working on his next "final" film. Suzuki is still there, managing the chaos. The legacy of Ghibli isn't just a library of movies on Max or Netflix; it’s a standard of excellence that suggests animation can be the highest form of art.
Next Steps for Ghibli Fans:
- Check out the Ghibli Park in Nagoya if you want to see the 1:1 recreations of the film sets.
- Read 'Starting Point', a collection of Miyazaki’s essays and sketches from 1979 to 1996. It’s the closest thing to a manual on his creative process.
- Support local hand-drawn animation projects; the "Ghibli style" only survives if there’s an audience willing to pay for the time it takes to draw it.
The era of the original founders is winding down, but the blueprint they left behind is permanent. They proved that you don't have to follow the rules of the industry to own the industry. You just have to be too good to ignore.
Key Takeaways for Creatives
- Reject the "Fast" Culture: Quality takes as long as it takes.
- Find Your Suzuki: Every artist needs a business partner who understands the vision but knows how to pay the bills.
- Stay Grounded: Miyazaki still cleans the river near his house. Takahata studied history. Real art comes from observing the real world, not just watching other movies.