Howl’s Moving Castle (Hauru no Ugoku Shiro) is a 2004 Japanese animated film written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki. The plot is loosely based on the novel of the same name by Welsh author Diana Wynne Jones, originally published in 1986 by Greenwillow Books of New York. The movie is set in an alternative universe in which steam-based technology coexists with sorcery: wizards enjoy a socially recognised status and magic is used for dealing with issues ranging from delicate state matters to everyday problems. Neither time nor space are revealed but many elements seem compatible to early 2Oth century central or northern Europe.

Heavy steam haulage, parasols, petticoats, and half-timbered buildings define the fictional universe in which the movie is set. Only aircraft seems to be incongruous.

The heroine, Sophie, is a young unprepossessing hatter who is already resigned to a humdrum, uneventful existence. Her life changes abruptly when she meets the young and charming wizard Howl. The evil Witch of the Waste takes issues with their attachment and casts a spell on Sophie, who ages prematurely. The plot revolves around her attempts to lift the spell, defeat the jealous witch, and disentangle a second curse linking Howl, his castle and the fire spirit Calcifer who keeps the edifice moving. In the end, both spells are lifted: Sophie regains her real age, she and Howl can fulfill their love, and the castle is transformed into a flying machine carrying away the new couple. It is essentially a story of redemption through love and compassion combined with a strong critique of modernity, with an emphasis on responsible use of technology as well as a transparent anti-war message. A subplot follows the all-out war between two neighbouring kingdoms. Belligerents’ claims are unclear but fierce battles are fought on land, at sea and in the air. Civilian life is initially unaffected until war escalates and it is no longer confined to the battlefields – enemy aircraft start to attack cities. The air-raid siren is heard for the first time by nervous characters while evacuation of civilians commences.

The conflict escalates and evacuation of civilians takes place.

An avowed pacifist, Miyazaki did not conceal his condemnation of the US-led War on Terror in the post-9/11 political context, especially regarding the second Gulf war (2003). The movie was a deliberate attempt to show his contempt for the intrinsic folly of war and his deprecation of the United States’ pugnacious policy. He openly stated that “the film was profoundly affected by the war in Iraq” (Gordon, 2005, p. 62) at a time in which there was a widespread fear that Japan could be dragged into an oversea war as an ally of the United States. His position is echoed by producer Toshio Suzuki “When we were making it, there was the Iraq War […] From young to old, people were not very happy” (Cavallaro, 2006, p. 170).
Not surprisingly, Howl’s Moving Castle has mainly been interpreted as a condemnation of war per se, without references to actual conflicts. Combat scenes are usually described as symbols, visual metaphors of violence rather than precise allusions to historical facts the viewer is supposed to decode correctly. At least one film critic mentioned the references to bombing warfare in the Second World War (Smith 2011), but this has been mainly overlooked in favour of a more symbolic interpretation, an example of the latter being (Arnaldi 2017). Not surprisingly, Howl’s Moving Castle doesn’t figure in the canon of works inspired by or at least influenced by Bomber Command.
It can be argued that Howl’s Moving Castle contains not only allusions to the bombing war waged by Allied air forces in Europe during the Second World War, but also surprisingly precise references to actual Bomber Command practices. The reason this point has been largely overlooked is unclear but has probably something to do with the preponderance of supernatural and symbolic elements in the movie.
This situation is best exemplified by the way aircraft are depicted. For a start, heavy bombers are shown as powerful flying machines with a toy-like appearance. Propulsion and aerodynamics seem at best implausible. Aircraft have all the hallmarks of nuts-and-bolt engineering, and nonetheless show hatches which dilate and contract as orifices, in a disturbingly organic fashion. They carry conventional bombs as well as supernatural beings controlled by magic arts.

One of the bombers featured in the movie. A human-built mechanism with obvious animal features, it looks menacing while at the same time suggesting a kind of childish amusement. Note the contrast between its threatening grey mass and the delicate treatment of the flowers below.

Nonetheless, the moral condemnation is explicit and both sides are presented as part of an absurd tapestry of violence. This following dialogue is illuminating (emphasis mine):

Sophie: A battleship!
Howl: Still looking for more cities to burn.
S: Is it the enemy’s or one of ours?
H: What difference does it make? Those stupid murderers! We can’t just let them fly off with all those bombs.

Once the tone is set, the movie rapidly shifts towards a cruder, more realistic approach. In a dramatic sequence the camera pans over a crowded town at dusk. Industrial buildings, chimneys belching out black smoke, and some barges on the river suggest a thriving manufacturing centre. The scene is dark and sinister with a sense of palpable anticipation.

The town where Sophie lives. Darkness is complete and not a single light is visible, a situation which points plausibly to a wartime black out. The place, although unnamed, has a strong Central European flavour.

Bombs are released from an aircraft flying above. Aircrew are not shown, reinforcing the idea of a brutal, impersonal force.

Sophie dashes outside. Almost everything has a specific connotation: bollards, cobble pavements, half-timbered buildings with oriel windows evoke irresistibly the Altstadt of any German or Austrian town. The most striking detail is the slow descent of bright yellowish orbs against the night sky. It brings immediately to mind the ominous sight of a Tannenbaum or Christmas tree, flares dropped during the initial stages of a night bombing to help mark the aiming point. A fire in a nearby building seems to be out of control while bright flames are going up in the night. The allusion to incendiaries seems compelling, a conclusion backed up by Howl’s explicit reference to “cities to burn”.

Though the movie is set in a fictional universe, the slow descent of target indicators is a precise reference to actual Bomber Command practices.

Wizards are summoned to help the war effort. Howl uses his magic powers to become a bird-like creature tasked to repel waves of enemy bombers while at the same time protecting his beloved Sophie. Night after night, it takes him more and more effort to revert to human form and his feral nature become increasingly intrusive as the battle rages. He’s finally shown as a hideous monster almost no longer human, attacking furiously an enemy bomber.

An allegory of a night fighter pilot being de-humanised by war?

Although imaginary elements are largely prevalent,scenes showing the destructive effects of aerial bombing are strikingly realistic and match countless accounts of bombing survivors.

Multiple fires have spread out of control and the urban landscape is now an inferno, a not-so-veiled allusion to the firestorms of Dresden and Hamburg. The turbulence and the optical disturbance caused by an ascending column of overheated air have been skilfully reproduced.

Bombs blow up in a straight path, as would have happened when dropped from an aircraft in flight; some architectural features such as chimneys, gables and high-pitched roofs point unmistakably to continental Europe.

A bomber about to crash is shown with surprising realism

Windows explode in a flurry of flying debris; rubble is everywhere.

Bombing operations are eventually called off following the resolution of the main plot. In the last scene, the flying castle is seen high in the sky carrying Sophie and Howl to a long-awaited happiness, an explicit praise of simple family life and mutual love. Meanwhile, military aircraft are fleetingly shown returning to their bases.

The now flying castle carries Sophie and Howl to a long-awaited happiness …

… while military aircraft are fleetingly shown returning to their bases.

The closing scenes contrast the new life awaiting the lovers with the absurdity of the conflict. Despite the most traditional they-lived-happily-ever-after finale, Howl’s Moving Castle has a distinct bitter taste which resonates with the many controversies surrounding the bombing war. For a start, war folly is neither recognised nor fully understood until the last sequences. Secondly, the whole destructive power of aerial warfare has been unleashed in vain because the conflict did not result in an indisputable victory – hostilities simply stopped. In both real life and fictional universes, bombing war remains a controversial issue.

Alessandro Pesaro, Digital Archive Developer

References

Arnaldi, V. (2017). Il Castello errante di Howl. Magia, mistero e bellezza nel film cult di Hayao Miyazaki. Roma, Ultra Shibuya, 2017.

Cavallaro, D. (2006). The Anime Art of Hayao Miyazaki. Jefferson, McFarland & Company, 2006.

Gordon, D. (2005). A ‘Positive Pessimist:’ An Interview with Hayao Miyzaki. Newsweek, 20 June, p. 67.

Smith, L. (2013). War, Wizards, and Words: Transformative Adaptation and Transformed Meanings in Howl’s Moving Castle. Available at: https://littledevil1919.wordpress.com/2013/06/27/j-anime-ghibli-war-wizards-and-words-transformative-adaptation-and-transformed-meanings-in-howls-moving-castle/ [Accessed 21 November 2017].

Unlike other European countries, there isn’t a received narrative of the bombing war in Italy and aerial warfare has been an inherently divisive topic since the end of the Second World War. Allied air forces have been, at the same time, liberators and tormentors – they were instrumental in ending the war but technically responsible for massive loss of life as well as for destruction of property and cultural heritage on a scale unseen before.

Bomb damage in Trieste. Graffiti reads ‘God curse the English’.

Italian scholars tend to use the notion of memoria divisa (‘un-shared’ memory) as overarching concept in approaching a period of Italian history which remains contentious and divisive. Language itself highlights deep fault lines within Italian society. For instance, Nazi reprisals and mass shooting of civilians are consistently interpreted as war crimes and these events are usually termed eccidio, the erudite and almost literary synonym for bloodbath; victims are frequently presented as martiri (martyrs). Conversely, there isn’t a specific Italian term for the casualties of the bombing war, who are almost invariably described with the most generic term vittime (victims) which is a rather nonspecific noun in modern Italian.

Only a minority of Allied bombings are now remembered with officially-sanctioned public ceremonies, marked by prominent public art, or otherwise memorialised. The perception of bombing war has remained ambiguous and the prevailing aspiration in post war years was simply to forget and move on. Nowadays, the bombing war is still far from being a mainstream topic; it’s rarely covered by media and research has mainly been confined to academic circles or independent researchers who explore the topic from the military history perspective or discuss the facts from a specific political stance. Not surprisingly, the lives and personal stories of people who were caught up in the bombing war have been largely forgotten, except at local level, or shared only among family members.

Since the inception of the project, the Archive team has been liaising with individuals, institutions and organisations which share the core tenets of the International Bomber Command Centre and have expressed interest in collaborative work. I undertook a research trip in July and August 2016 – thirteen meetings were arranged in nine cities over the course of nine days, involving 32 people in total. The Interest in the project was very high and the IBCC’s ethos elicited favourable comments. To begin with, its choice to include military and civilian stories from both sides of the conflict in a spirit of understanding and reconciliation has been systematically praised as comparable initiatives tend to be more limited in scope or have a narrower focus. Unlike the IBCC, integration of professional expertise and voluntary work tends to be used more cautiously and digitisation projects are usually entirely carried out by paid staff.

Three dissertation projects have since been assigned by professors based at the universities of Pavia, Trieste and Venice. Two projects revolve around recording oral history interviews of bombing survivors in Italy. The resulting audio files and associated metadata have been shared with the Archive. Furthermore, there are concrete opportunities that future research agreements will provide even more material on a regular basis. Some of the scholars contacted are respected figures among contemporary historians and may be instrumental in building a support network abroad.

Among the Italian volunteers trained to conduct oral history interviews, there are five public historians belonging to the Lapsus association. They have delivered excellent results, working with minimal supervision thanks to a well-established network of local contacts.

Three Italian volunteers have spent a total 12 weeks in Lincoln, helping out as OH interviewers, transcribers, researchers, metadata creators, and event support staff.

Contacts with local specialists and cultural heritage institutions have led to veritable treasure trove of documents which shed a unique light on the lives of those who were at the receiving end of the bombing war: propaganda posters and leaflets, correspondence, toys, and everyday objects excavated from shelters. The most striking piece is probably a board game from the 1930s devised to teach young children anti-aircraft precautions. It is in surprisingly good condition for an object of such vintage and will be featured in the civilian gallery of the exhibition. The archive also managed to get permission to reproduce the temperas of a self-taught wartime artist who explored a broad range of subjects, including Royal Navy actions and well-known Bomber Command operations such as the bombing of Dresden and the attacks of the Möhne, Eder and Sorpe dams led by Victoria Cross recipient Guy Gibson. Other works focus on Nazi brutalities, the deeds of the resistance movements, as well as civilian life in wartime Europe: bomb disposal units, and British evaders being helped by civilians. The emotional intensity of the events depicted emerges strongly from each image and some of them have been selected for the exhibition panels.

Alessandro Pesaro, Digital Archive Developer