Stubborn Old Men's Softness: Life Philosophy Deposited by Years
Ghibli never hesitates to give elderly protagonists the stage—they may be stubborn and nagging, but hide the transparency and gentleness polished by years. In 2013's 'The Wind Rises,' Jiro Horikoshi isn't a world-saving hero but just a 'tech geek' obsessed with aircraft design. He stays up all night for blueprints, struggles with the contradiction between 'creation and destruction' under war's shadow, and even shows some awkwardness in love. Miyazaki doesn't portray him as a perfect idealist but shows an ordinary person trying to hold onto passion in the torrent of times.
When Nahoko's condition gradually worsens, Jiro struggles in the dual fate of successful aircraft testing and his lover's death, the phrase 'The wind is rising, we must try to live' gains heavy weight—this isn't a passionate slogan but an answer from a 'stubborn old man' in life's predicament.
The 1999 'My Neighbors the Yamadas' even portrays the daily life of an 'imperfect family' to perfection. Protagonist Takashi Yamada is a typical 'hands-off manager' who argues with his wife over trivial matters but silently stands up when his daughter is bullied; his wife Matsuko is nagging and trivial but always keeps the house in order. Takahata uses fragmented narrative to record this ordinary family's daily life: dealing with typhoon chaos together, having picnics under cherry blossoms together, worrying about children's grades together. There's no earth-shattering plot, but every viewer sees their own life in the Yamada family's bickering. These 'stubborn old men' have no superpowers but interpret family's meaning in the most simple way—imperfect yet warm enough.
Weird Children's Courage: Flicker Blooming in Loneliness
Ghibli's 'weird children' always carry traits that don't fit the world but grow the most resilient courage in loneliness. In 1997's 'Princess Mononoke,' Ashitaka isn't a traditional 'hero'—he's cursed by the Forest Spirit, his face half-covered with strange patterns, forced to leave home and wander. When facing conflicts between humans and forest, he doesn't choose to side with either but tries to find possibilities for coexistence.
He would fight humans to protect San but also persuade San to stop war—this 'middleman' struggle fills the character with authentic tension. Ashitaka's 'weirdness' is precisely his transcendent clarity—in a black-and-white world, he chose the hardest 'path of reconciliation.'
In 2008's 'Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea,' Ponyo is a 'rule-breaking' little mermaid. She leaves the ocean floor without permission, uses magic to grow legs, just to be with human boy Sosuke. She would cause chaos in restaurants out of jealousy, make seawater overflow out of excitement—behind these 'willful' actions is children's purest love and hate. Miyazaki doesn't make Ponyo a 'perfect princess' but preserves her 'wildness' and 'innocence.' When Ponyo rushes toward Sosuke in the tsunami, when she says 'I want to become human,' this 'weird child' tells us in the most direct way: courage is listening to the most authentic voice in your heart.
There's also Haru from 'The Cat Returns,' an ordinary and somewhat confused girl. She gets involved in the cat world for saving a cat and almost becomes a cat herself. In this fantasy adventure, Haru performs no earth-shattering deeds but finds herself through constant 'mistakes' and 'corrections.' When she finally refuses the Cat King's proposal and firmly says 'I want to be myself,' this 'weird child' completes the most simple growth—accepting her ordinariness yet still loving life.
Non-humans' Deep Affection: Life Resonance Across Species
In Ghibli's world, 'non-human' protagonists also possess rich emotions—they show life resonance across species from unique perspectives. In 1988's 'My Neighbor Totoro,' Totoro has no dialogue but interprets the meaning of 'companionship' through actions. It silently appears when the sisters wait for their father, uses magic to make seeds grow into towering trees, shields them with leaves on rainy nights. This massive, furry 'monster' has become countless people's warmest childhood memory. Totoro's 'non-human' traits precisely free it from human complexity and calculation, making it a symbol of pure beauty.
No-Face from 'Spirited Away' is Ghibli's most controversial yet charming 'non-human' character. He has no fixed form, devours everything that approaches him, but shows gentleness only to Chihiro. He tempts bathhouse people with gold but is rejected by Chihiro; he becomes violent due to loneliness but regains peace under Chihiro's guidance. Behind No-Face's 'non-human' appearance lies humanity's most essential desire—to be loved and understood. When Chihiro takes him away from the bathhouse, when he finds belonging at Zeniba's house, this 'monster' tells us in the most silent way: loneliness is a lesson everyone must face, and love is the only cure.
There are also the Ohmu from 'Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind'—they're considered 'poisonous monsters' by humans but show gentleness under Nausicaä's protection. When the Ohmu swarm attacks to protect Nausicaä, when their blood purifies polluted land, these 'non-human' creatures use actions to break human prejudice against 'misfits'—life's value never depends on species differences.
Imperfect Gentleness: Ghibli's Life Foundation
Ghibli's 'misfit' protagonists don't fit traditional animation's 'perfect template,' yet together constitute Ghibli's most moving life picture. Their imperfection isn't a flaw but an authentic footnote—just like each of us has our own stubbornness, vulnerability, and confusion. Miyazaki once said: 'The animation I want to make is something that can make adults recall childhood and let children see the future.' These 'misfit' protagonists are precisely the bridge connecting childhood and future.
When we see Jiro Horikoshi's struggle in 'The Wind Rises,' we remember our own days and nights fighting for dreams; when we see Ponyo's innocence in 'Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea,' we miss childhood's carefree passion; when we see No-Face's loneliness in 'Spirited Away,' we touch the deep self that longs to be understood. Ghibli's gentleness is never deliberate sentimentality but respect and acceptance for every 'imperfect' life.
In this era pursuing 'perfect personas,' Ghibli's 'misfit' protagonists are like a clear stream, reminding us: life's beauty lies precisely in its imperfection. Those so-called 'flaws' are actually our unique imprints. When we learn to reconcile with our imperfections, we can live our own brilliance in the ordinary world like Ghibli's protagonists.