Honestly, whenever people talk about Studio Ghibli, they immediately go for the heavy hitters. You know the ones. It's usually Spirited Away or My Neighbor Totoro. Maybe someone brings up Princess Mononoke if they're feeling a bit edgy. But there’s this one movie that always seems to get pushed to the back of the shelf, and that’s From Up on Poppy Hill. It’s a 2011 film directed by Goro Miyazaki, and frankly, it deserves way more credit than it gets for being one of the most grounded, soulful things the studio ever produced.
It isn't about cat buses. No one turns into a pig. There are zero moving castles. Instead, we get a story about a girl named Umi Matsuzaki who lives in 1963 Yokohama. She spends her mornings raising signal flags on a mast overlooking the sea, hoping her father—who died in the Korean War—might somehow see them. It's quiet. It's rhythmic. It's basically a love letter to a version of Japan that was trying to figure out how to be modern without throwing away its soul.
The Drama Behind the Scenes was Real
You can’t talk about From Up on Poppy Hill without acknowledging the elephant in the room: the tension between Hayao Miyazaki and his son, Goro. By the time this movie went into production, the relationship was... well, "strained" is putting it lightly. After Tales from Earthsea, which most fans (and his own father) considered a bit of a mess, Goro was under an insane amount of pressure.
Hayao wrote the screenplay, but Goro directed. Imagine trying to direct a movie while your legendary, perfectionist father is hovering over your shoulder, occasionally sketching out better ways to do your job. There’s a famous documentary called The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness that catches some of this vibe. It shows just how meticulous and grueling the process was. But somehow, that friction created something special. The movie feels more disciplined than Goro’s first attempt, yet it has a nostalgic warmth that feels distinct from his father’s more fantastical epics.
The 1963 setting is the secret sauce here. Japan was prepping for the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. The whole country was obsessed with tearing down the old to make way for the new. In the movie, this conflict is centered on "The Latin Quarter," a dilapidated, chaotic, and utterly charming clubhouse that the school board wants to demolish. Umi and a boy named Shun lead the charge to save it. It sounds simple, right? A bunch of kids cleaning a building. But in the hands of Ghibli, it becomes a high-stakes battle for cultural memory.
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Why the Romance in From Up on Poppy Hill is Actually Good
Let's be real. Most anime romances are either way too sugary or frustratingly vague. But the connection between Umi and Shun feels heavy. It’s not just "oh, I like you." It gets complicated—really fast. There’s a plot point involving their parentage that takes a sharp turn into "wait, are they related?" territory. It's a bit of a shocker if you aren't expecting it.
The way they handle it is what makes it work. They don't just scream and run away. They handle the possibility with this heartbreaking, quiet maturity. They continue to work together on the Latin Quarter because the cause is bigger than their personal feelings. That’s a very 1960s Japanese sentiment—duty over self. It’s refreshing. You’ve got these two teenagers carrying the weight of the past (specifically the trauma of the Korean and World Wars) while trying to navigate a future they don't quite understand yet.
The soundtrack helps. A lot. Satoshi Takebe did the music, and it’s a departure from the usual Joe Hisaishi orchestral sweeps. It’s jazzy. It’s got that Latin influence. It feels like 1963. When that "Sukiyaki" song (Ue o Muite Arukō) plays, it hits differently because you realize you're watching a moment in time that was fleeting.
The Latin Quarter is the Best Character
I’m serious. The building itself is a masterpiece of background art. If you pause any scene inside the Latin Quarter, you’ll see decades of "lived-in" detail. Dust motes dancing in the light. Piles of old newspapers. Chemistry sets. Printing presses covered in ink. It’s a mess. But it’s a beautiful mess.
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The scene where the girls finally descend on the clubhouse to clean it is peak Ghibli. It’s that "labor as love" trope they do so well. Watching them scrub the floors and reorganize the chaos is weirdly satisfying. It’s about the community coming together to say, "This old thing matters."
- The Chemistry Club: Pure chaos.
- The Philosophy Students: Pretentious and hilarious.
- The Architecture: A maze of stairs and secret nooks.
People often overlook the political undertones here. The students aren't just protesting for the sake of it; they are practicing democracy in a post-war era. They're debating. They're voting. They're learning how to have a voice. For a movie that looks like a simple slice-of-life, it’s got a lot to say about the social fabric of Japan during the "Economic Miracle."
The Emotional Core: Signal Flags and Loss
Every morning, Umi raises the flags. She’s been doing it for years. It’s a ritual that keeps her connected to a father who isn’t coming back. This is the part of From Up on Poppy Hill that actually makes me tear up. It’s about the quiet ways we carry grief.
There’s a scene where Shun reveals he’s been seeing those flags from his tugboat every day. He even wrote a poem about them in the school newspaper. That’s the moment the movie clicks. It’s about how our private acts of mourning or love can ripple out and touch someone else without us even knowing it. Umi thought she was alone in her ritual, but she was actually signaling her future.
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The ending doesn't give you a perfect, tied-with-a-bow resolution. It’s more of a sigh of relief. It’s the realization that while the past is messy and sometimes painful, you don't have to destroy it to move forward. You just have to clean it up a bit and carry it with you.
How to Get the Most Out of Your Next Rewatch
If you’re going to dive back into this movie, don’t just watch the plot. Look at the edges.
- Watch the backgrounds. The city of Yokohama is transitioning. You’ll see old wooden houses next to new steel structures.
- Listen for the foley. Ghibli is famous for sound design, and the clinking of the flag clips against the mast is a constant, grounding heartbeat throughout the film.
- Pay attention to the food. As always, the food looks incredible. Umi’s breakfast preparations are a masterclass in "cozy" animation.
- Check the history. Briefly look up the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. It gives so much more weight to why the kids are so desperate to save their "old" building.
From Up on Poppy Hill isn't trying to change the world. It’s not trying to be the most epic fantasy ever made. It’s just trying to tell a story about two kids, a dusty building, and the flags that brought them together. And honestly? Sometimes that’s more than enough.
Next Steps for Ghibli Fans:
To truly appreciate the craftsmanship of this era, watch the "making of" documentary The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness. It provides a raw look at the production of Poppy Hill and The Wind Rises. After that, track down the original soundtrack by Satoshi Takebe—it’s perfect for background work or a rainy afternoon. Finally, if you haven't seen Whisper of the Heart, watch it as a double feature with Poppy Hill; they are the two best examples of Ghibli’s "grounded" storytelling style.