Sitting atop her mother’s broom and listening to her father’s radio, a young witch makes her way across an expansive sea with only her trusty black cat by her side. As darkness takes over the two companions, the light from cities miles below bring no solace; their destination remains elusive. Two things are certain, it will be somewhere far from home… and it will preferably be by a body of water.
Like most of its films, Studio Ghibli’s cherished 1989 film Kiki Delivery’s Service is based on a child book series; in this case, Eiko Kadono’s 1985 novel by the same name. Even if one has not read the book nor watched many Studio Ghibli films, one will most likely have encountered the red-bowed protagonist with her iconic black dress and bright smile. Kiki Delivery’s Service follows 13-year-old Kiki, a juvenile witch, who must set off on a one-year rite of passage expected of all soon-to-be witches. She begins this journey excited, hopeful, and like all newly independent people, maybe just a tad bit impatient. From the get go, one gets the impression of a cheerful and enthusiastic heroine willing to take on any challenge.
As the movie progresses, however, this bright-eyed disposition gives way to a deeper and more complex sense of uncertainty. No longer protected by her small community’s watchful gaze, Kiki must learn how to balance the responsibilities of this newfound adulthood with the reality that she has still much to learn. Although viewers may not have had to undergo a magical year-long journey, Studio Ghibli director Hayao Miyazaki hoped viewers could relate to Kiki’s internal tension so common among newly-independent souls.
In The Art of Kiki’s Delivery Service (2006), Miyazaki revealed that he modeled the spirited heroine off of young female staff at the company who he observed to be struggling to balance both responsibility and ambition.
“She represents every girl who is drawn to the glamour of the big city but find themselves struggling with their newfound independence– in spite of their parent’s love and financial support,” Miyazaki explained.
One could assume that feelings of isolation and heartache have no home in a children’s movie, especially one set in such a beautiful city. The movie’s setting, Koriko, is modeled heavily on Sweden’s Gotland Island. Miyazaki also incorporated bits and pieces from other European and American cities to craft the perfect seaside town: rolling hills reminiscent of San Francisco and Lisbon, Swedish cottages with red tiled roofs, and Mediterranean crystal blue water. “I was imagining how the world would have been in the 50’s if the war had never happened. Y’know, the world that wasn’t,” Miyazaki reflects in an interview about the making of the movie.
Even Kiki’s transition to the town seems to come easily. She finds housing relatively quickly when a corner bakery offers her a quaint attic. With the question of room and board settled, her energetic and determined nature attracts customers to her flying delivery business almost automatically. Considering everything, Kiki seems to be passing her training with flying colors. Independence appears to truly be as rosy-colored as she had initially imagined.
Miyazaki wouldn’t be a brilliant storyteller, however, if Kiki’s Delivery Service was just about a business saavy courier. Instead, he clashes these initial scenes of serenity with sudden points of emotional turbulence. Upon arriving to the town and receiving admiration from onlookers, Kiki almost narrowly misses an accident when she gets in the way of incoming traffic. An afternoon spent leisurely baking a delicious herring pie gets turned upside down by a sudden thunderstorm. Drenched and with nothing left to wear to a gathering she was invited to, Kiki returns to her attic: tired, frustrated and above all else, hopeless. At first glance, these instances may appear inconsequential but over time, these cracks form into a larger than life force for an increasingly overwhelmed Kiki.
Although this year-long self study is customary of all witches her age, at thirteen, Kiki is still just a young girl navigating economic responsibilities and a desire for youthful frivolity. She despairs having to wear the conventional black witch’s dress which feels out of place among the colorful feminine dresses around her. “I wish I had something pretty to wear,” she says to herself. Instead, most of her earnings are spent on unromantic, practical things distant in the minds of her carefree peers. As a form of temporary solace, she allows herself a moment to look admiringly at a pair of beautiful bright red slippers (a perfect match to her iconic red ribbon).
Wanting to blend in, feeling unsure about how to even begin making friends, not knowing the norms of a culture, these are all things that any newcomer has experienced.
These instances are also indication of culture shock, “a feeling of confusion felt by someone visiting a country or place that they do not know.” Researchers have broken down this phenomenon into four different categories: honeymoon, negotiation, adjustment and adaptation. This first stage, like with any new experience, comes with a sense of euphoria. Everything new is captivating, sweet and idyllic. But when this novelty wears away, things that once felt interesting begin to feel isolating and distancing. Getting lost on the way back to your new home can feel less exciting and more frustrating. You yearn to see old faces and to not have to put as much energy into meeting new people. You wish to have your old life back.
As Kiki puts it, “Without even thinking about it, I used to be able to fly. Now I’m trying to look inside myself and find out how I did it.”
For anyone who has had to adjust to a new city or a new school or a new job, these insecurities are all too familiar. The worst thing about this negotiation phase is that there is no set end-date. There isn’t a flashy finish line or encouraging spectators saying to you, “only 500 meters more!” “In a week’s time you will feel more comfortable!” “Just push through a little bit more!” Although researchers estimate that this stage takes around three months, really this process is highly individual. For some, it can take only weeks to feel settled. For others, like myself, this transition can take longer. My best bet is that even those who appear to have everything together, are probably still experiencing moments of self doubt.
There really isn’t an exact point where this negotiation phase transitions into the adjustment phase. One day, you are just walking down the street groceries in hand, listening to nearby chatter and you don’t feel so alone anymore. This adjustment phase feels like a compilation of little milestones. You get invited to have beers with a couple of friends. You recognize the workers at your go-to supermarket. You remember that Cien Montaditos offers almost its entire menu for only 1 euro on Wednesdays. (The adaptation phase is when you realize that the funky smell that stays in your hair isn’t quite worth it).
As mentioned above, the adaptation phase is when things finally feel more settled. It is not so much that everything becomes rose-tinted and ideal once again but that those instances that felt so impossible now feel manageable.
As Jiji reminds Kiki time and time again, “All right, first: don’t panic! Second: don’t panic! And third: did I mention not to panic?”
The brilliance of Kiki’s Delivery Service is that even its settled characters is undergoing their respective transitions. Tombo is working to perfect his flying bike, an endeavor that leaves him more bruised and battered than windborne. Osono, the baker who houses Kiki, is awaiting a newborn and will be entering into a new phase of her life: motherhood. Ursula, a painter and sister-like figure to Kiki, also opens up to Kiki that she has faced moments of uncertainty in her artworks.
“When I was your age, I’d already decided to become an artist. I loved to paint so much. I’d paint all day until I fell asleep right at my easel. And then one day, for some reason, I just couldn’t paint anymore. I tried and tried, but nothing I did seemed any good. They were copies of paintings I’d seen somewhere before … and not very good copies either. I just felt like I’d lost my ability.”
Dealing with burnout or with feelings of self doubt is not particular to Kiki’s journey, she learns. It is an experience that is shared by all the people around her. And so, having experienced this disillusionment before, Ursula recommends, “Stop trying. Take long walks. Look at scenery. Doze off at noon. Don’t even think about flying. And then, pretty soon, you’ll be flying again…we each need to find our own inspiration, Kiki. Sometimes it’s not easy.”
As Ursula points out, finding inspiration, confidence or tranquility is not a straight-forward path. Although it may seem natural to fight against this wave, the key, it seems, is to weather the storm– both the heavy downpour and the glimpses of sunshine. For a teenage witch and her trusty black cat, the answer may just be: “don’t panic!” just fly a little higher.
Where in the world 
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