Hayao Miyazaki is best known for his whimsical animations such as Ponyo and My Neighbor Totoro, but one of his most underrated films has to be The Cat Returns. Supposed to be a pseudo-sequel of the movie Whisper of the Heart, The Cat Returns begins with a high school girl named Haru (voiced by Anne Hathaway) who lives a mundane life, until she one day saves a wandering cat from being hit by a truck. The cat she saves happens to be the prince of the Cat Kingdom! She wakes up to learn that she is forced to marry the Cat Prince as a form of gratitude from his father, the Cat King (voiced by Tim Curry). With the help of Muta, a chubby, white cat with an attitude, Baron (voiced by Carl Elwes), a gentleman cat figurine brought to life, and Toto, a crow, also a figurine brought to life, Haru tries desperately to return to the human world and not transform to a cat. In the process, she learns the importance of believing in herself and trusting in her decisions. This movie, whether it was because of Baron’s chivalry or because of Haru’s imperfection, has been one of my childhood favorite films.
Haru is your average teenager trying to figure out her place in the world. She’s quite the opposite of the definition of perfect. She gets lost in her thoughts frequently, is a little bit oblivious, and incredibly clumsy. While I found these characteristics a bit annoying, I didn’t pity her. In fact, I empathized with her. Around the time the film left an impact on me, my mornings consisted of waking up to my alarm, kicking off my sheets, grudgingly putting on the same green vest and plaid pleated skirt, waiting hours for my mother, and later rushing to class after she sped through each streetlight. Like Haru, my days were a mere process of going through the motions. Even today, I still feel her penchant for something more.
I think we’ve all experienced the feeling of not belonging anywhere at some point in our lives. In The Cat Returns, we can sense that Haru feels out of place. When she runs to school past the bustling yet purposeful streets, or when she converses nonchalantly with her animated friend, Haru’s pace never really matches the rest of the world. Throughout the film and until the very end, Haru even verbally expresses her struggle to figure out where she belongs. After the offer to become the Cat Prince’s bride, she contemplates the simplicity of being a cat as opposed to the responsibilities of reality. When she enters the Cat Kingdom, she marvels at the luxuries of the palace and how she could belong in this world. It isn’t until she gradually develops cat features that she feels constrained from who she is. While the life of a cat seems peaceful, Haru would be forced to be someone she’s not (as well as an entirely different species).
Reflecting on how this movie could be applied to society today, a popular trend that encourages individuals, mostly girls, to go through dramatic “transformations” such as dying their hair or trying new style aesthetics to create a new identity came to mind. While some may do these transformations for pure enjoyment, others attempt to discover who they are. But is this true? Or, have we become too familiar with forming new versions of ourselves simply because we don’t like who we are? Maybe, then, instead of believing that forming new identities would make us more accepted, we should start to accept ourselves first.
But I know that this isn’t easy. While I have grown to be more confident and comfortable with myself, I still struggle to trust myself. Like Haru, I sometimes fail to see where I belong in the world and whether the choices I make are the right ones for my future. But by watching Haru’s transformation, I am encouraged to approach life in a more hopeful light. I don’t want to spoil the movie for everyone, but let’s just say that, in the end, Haru does become more confident. She believes in her decisions and walks with a bit more purpose, lets her hair loose, and dresses with a new color palette. Not only is Haru happier, but also free from the worries over her place in the world.
The Cat Returns isn’t one of Miyazaki’s best films, nor the most immersive. In fact, I could argue that it’s the most simple film out of his creations. But to me, watching Haru’s journey feels like coming home. I remember when Haru taps against the chalkboard eraser as she stares off in the distance, when she sits at the dinner table with her mother as they recall a childhood memory, and when she lays on the swaying green grass in the Cat Kingdom. I could watch this movie again and again, and I’d still feel like Baron was telling me to believe in myself. I think we need to be reminded of that occasionally. By believing in ourselves, we can see how our lives can be meaningful. It’s up to us to decide whether we want to create that meaning or find it—all we have to do is believe.
