For a Japanese animation studio that has mastered the art of wholehearted storytelling in children’s films, Studio Ghibli has never refrained from exploring socio-political ideology in its films. Themes such as ecology, feminism, cohabitation, religion, war, and capitalism frequently appear in several films such as Ponyo, The Tale of Princess Kaguya, Spirited Away, Whisper of the Heart, Princess Mononoke, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, My Neighbour Totoro, The Wind Rises, Porco Rosso and many others. One common theme in Studio Ghibli's filmography is technology's prevalence, industrialisation, and innate beauty.

Early Studio Ghibli films such as Nausicaa and Castle in the Sky are full of wondrous and frightening technological creations. Weapons, robots, elaborate defence mechanisms — all often imbued with a sense of creative flair and playfulness like children playing forts. These imagined technologies are not simply playful though. These films often depict such offence/defence-minded technology as spectacle and in conflict with the protagonists who are striving for natural harmony in the world. In later films such as Spirited Away and Ponyo, these imagined technological playgrounds are no longer as pronounced, but their essence remains. For example, Spirited Away’s boiler man Kamaji (you may have noticed him, he was the moustached gentleman with six arms) operates the bathhouse's energy supply through steam technology. And it would be remiss of me not to mention, especially with regard to Hayao Miyazaki’s films, the ubiquity of technological travel. Especially aircrafts — there are a total abundance of aircrafts. Technology is littered throughout Studio Ghibli, and for a good reason. It is the means by which capital, industrialisation and modern beauty are understood — but more on that with the technological sublime.

So, what is technology? There is no straightforward answer. One possible response is to say that technology is the application of knowledge or technique to a material. The word technology is itself derived from the Greek words ‘techne’ (meaning art or craft) and ‘logos’ (meaning word or expression). I am much more partial to this broader representation of technology, but by modern colloquialisms, technology refers to advanced tools and devices. If casually said, it would seem out of place for me to call my water bottle a form of technology, but not my phone. This leads me to the technological sublime. Coined by Perry Miller and developed by writers such as David E. Nye, the technological sublime refers to the rotatory awe and premonition in societal technological achievements. An obvious example of this is social media and smartphones, which achieve some awe-inducing feats through their immense ability to connect people. However, frightening premonitions exist regarding how such advanced technologies may affect things like mental health or alienation. Studio Ghibli films are also often intrigued by this idea of the technological sublime. They possess both wondrous awe for the ability of the imagined technologies in the films, such as massive flying machines, and flower-holding robots. Yet, they also demonstrate the destructive nature that these inventions can entail — particularly in the context of the environment or society.

Where there is technology, there is design. And where there is design, we tend to find retrofuturism. Retrofuturism to depictions of the future based on art or designs from the past. Think The Jetsons, Back to the Future II, or in this case, Studio Ghibli. The aesthetic of retrofuturism is just as obscure as it is unique in Studio Ghibli. For example, we see a kind of steampunk style in Castle in the Sky, and in Howl’s Moving Castle, which develops vehicles and entire world-building in a retrofuturistic manner. The flavour of retrofuturism in Studio Ghibli also tends to be more minimalist and personal. Each aircraft is unique and possesses only what it needs to serve its function, taking liberty in the infinite possibilities of animation, in which any design can exist in its ideal state. And this concept of the ideal really is what is at the core of retrofuturism — the idea that the future will be better than the present. In the meantime, art — like the films of Studio Ghibli — creates an imaginative spectacle to capture the possibilities of a future, and thus retrofuturism gets its appeal.

This is where the technological sublime and retrofuturism converge. Studio Ghibli’s depictions of technology and ideal futuristic designs belong to the technological sublime as they are both awe-inducing and disastrous. Machines are often used as weapons of mass destruction for capital gain. They are only idealistic through their efficiency in destroying. A simple example of this is the robot in Castle in the Sky, who possesses the ability to destroy the entire structure it is in, and subsequently does in defence. Even ‘harmless’ technology in Studio Ghibli films, such as vehicles, are often situated within the natural world. One example of this is the cliffside driving scene in Ponyo as the animated water lifted by Ponyo chases the car down the road in a big orchestral sequence. This can also be seen in the many aircraft sequences across films such as Castle in the Sky, Porco Rosso and Kiki’s Delivery Service. In The Wind Rises, the idea of minimalism appears again, as Jiro must compromise his design of the ‘ideal’ and highly efficient passive aeroplane by mounting it with guns for war. Technology is at constant odds with the ideal, and as such, both a retrofuturism and a sublime arise.

When looking toward the future, will technological achievement be catastrophic or self-actualising? This is one of the many themes that the films of Studio Ghibli explore. Their contention? Technology is as beautiful as it is destructive — we must find an equilibrium in how we use it. An equilibrium that must exist across technology, humanity and the natural world. This equilibrium might be met in many ways, and we need not look further then the films of Studio Ghibli to demonstrate why. These films themselves are examples of technology, each with a capacity of destruction, as well as beauty, through their spectacle and meaning. As a technology, films can help create such an equilibrium through their refraction of the world around us, connecting us to meaning. When we watch a Studio Ghibli film for example, we are too enacting a balance by engaging with film technology to connect us to nature or to those around us. On this small but meaningful level, we work towards an equilibrium characterised by allowing technology, nature, or humanity to harmonise rather than hegemonising one over the other. Retrofuturism and the technological sublime, as depicted in these films, are but the tools and methods employed to represent, predict and spectate the balanced future we ought to strive for and the dystopian future of disharmony that we fear.

And so, often a blend of fantasy and aesthetics of industry, Studio Ghibli films adopt a style of retrofuturism that is simultaneously stunning and ominous. Many of the technologies are also imaginatively designed and are thus innately tied into idealisms or premonitions of an industrial future. That is where the 'technological sublime' may also be understood as an aesthetic in Studio Ghibli. And though the technological sublime may seem like a heavy concept to consider, the benefit of retrofuturism is that by looking back to look forward, we open ourselves up to a realm of possibilities strung up in the complexity of our ever-changing ideologies and environments. Our capacity to engage with retrofuturism — through the films of Studio Ghibli, in this instance — is an opportunity to revel in the exceptionality of our imagination, our memory, and ultimately, our agency to effect positive change.