“I’ve always felt that we blind ourselves by looking at the world simply in terms of purity and corruption… In my valley, we let the water sit in the reservoir for a while before using it to water the crops, and we boil it before drinking it. The water surely becomes contaminated while sitting in the reservoir, yet the plants grow better that way!”
Two and half years ago, while I was on a flight back home, I made the spontaneous decision to watch the film adaptation of Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind with little knowledge of its contents aside from my prior experience with some of Miyazaki’s other films. Ever since I first watched the film it has held a particularly special place in my heart, and I’d probably consider it to be my favourite animated work by Miyazaki. Its environmentalist and anti-war themes are nothing groundbreaking, however, I was enchanted by the fungal post-apocalyptic world created by Miyazaki, with its insect-dominated ecosystem inspiring awe and wonder within me. I was also moved by the perspective of the titular character Nausicaä, as her unwavering love and empathy for Sea of Corruption and its denizens in the face of the sea’s hostile and uninhabitable nature. nature. So deep is Nausicaä’s love for and connection with nature that she is able to ‘see the wind’ itself, an ability that allows her to use a glider, a symbol of freedom in an increasingly mechanised and artificial world. In finding this freedom Nausicaä comes to embrace the uninhabitable fungal Sea, with her desire to understand that which is reviled by the rest of humanity serving as the means she prevents a new apocalypse, her love for the insects triumphing over her own will to survive. Ultimately, the film reaches a positive conclusion in which humanity learns to live alongside nature, with the Valley of the Wind’s residents’ mass-adoption of gliders during the credits sequence demonstrating their newly-heightened understanding of nature. I teared up when I finished the film and it was not lost on me that as I was ten thousand metres above the world in a sterile and cramped cabin, I was as disconnected from the world as one could possibly be. Aside from those within the cabin, I was separated from everything else; the world felt small; I could neither see the wind nor could I hear it.
Miyazaki's manga is far more expansive than his film adaptation, with the film roughly covering first two volumes of seven-volume manga; however, its ending was altered to provide the more positive and satisfying conclusion previously mentioned. Despite my love for the film adaptation, it’s evident that the manga’s extended period of creation (roughly fourteen years, with the film being released around two years into its creation) allowed for Miyazaki’s thoughts to mature. As a result of this, the manga takes a more nuanced perspective and renders certain characters near unrecognisable.
Despite fits of violence throughout the original film, Nausicaä is portrayed as being almost uniquely positive and is able to see the beauty in all things, whether it be the corrupt forest or the pure land of stone that resides beneath the Sea of Corruption, however, this is not the case within the manga. Despite maintaining her unfathomable love for humanity, the Sea of Corruption and the insects within it, Nausicaä slowly becomes disillusioned with humanity’s constant cycle of violence within the manga. Throughout the war between Torumekia and Dorok, Nausicaä constantly goes against traditional military wisdom and shows empathy for her enemies whether this be through her rescuing of orphans or through the release of enemy hostages. Despite the infectiousness of her compassion (which leads to significant character growth for both Kushana and Kurotawa which is absent in the film), she fails to end the cycle of violence and instead witnesses a nascent apocalypse that is only prevented through the sacrifice of the Sea of Corruption’s insects, who prevent a genetically-engineered slime-mould from rendering the earth uninhabitable. Witnessing the insects’ compassionate action, Nausicaä is overwhelmed and decides to die alongside the insects so as to become part of the Sea, however, against Nausicaä’s will the insects protect her, allowing her to live another day and confront the darkness inside herself. In confronting her inner darkness, Nausicaä reaches an enlightened state and becomes aware of the Sea of Corruption’s purpose as a reparative being and is granted a vision of an environment that has been fully restored to a pre-apocalyptic state.
The manga reframes the Sea of Corruption as a man-made object, rather than something that arose naturally as was the case in the film, intentionally bio-engineered as an autonomous tool that would restore the world to its prior, supposedly “pure”, state. Despite the idyllic scene envisioned Nausicaä rejects this vision, believing that if humanity in its current state were to discover this environment it would be rapidly destroyed. Soon after, the manga provides a critique of this seemingly pure land, with it being revealed that it is uninhabitable to the insects and contemporary humanity; it is a land only fit for those beings that existed before the apocalypse and fall of humanity. In this sense the restored forest represents an unattainable utopia, something that is not only physically harmful to humanity, but something that is corrosive to the human spirit.
This criticism of purity comes to a head in the manga’s final volume in which Nausicaä enters a crypt that holds the wisdom of civilisations past, including their technologies and their art. In interacting with the crypt-keeper it becomes evident to Nausicaä that the artificial crypt-keeper views the humans of Nausicaä’s world as lesser beings compared to those of the pre-apocalypse, as contemporary humans had been bio-engineered to become resistant to the Sea of Corruption. The crypt-keeper views Nausicaä’s world as a transitory period and is hence willing to sacrifice all current life to bring forth the pure utopia previously seen by Nausicaä. The crypt-keeper however, is ultimately deluded in its belief that this pure world would be one without conflict, as those unaltered humans are the ones who led to Nausicaä’s “impure” world. Nausicaä rejects this vision of a pure world and destroys the crypt, despite this necessitating the loss of all knowledge from the pre-apocalypse, and decries the crypt-keeper’s goal, saying “Because you were created as an artificial god of purity, you have become the ugliest creature of all, never knowing what it means to be alive!” Life by its very nature cannot be pure, as it does not exist in a vacuum. In this sense life is not light in and of itself, but rather “life is the light that shines in the darkness.”
This ending is far more ambiguous, and even somewhat pessimistic compared to that of the film adaptation, as Nausicaä’s rejection of pre-apocalyptic technology seemingly condemns humanity to extinction in the face of the Sea of Corruption’s relentless purification. In spite of this seemingly inevitable annihilation, Nausicaä finds hope, proclaiming that “if such a morning is to come, then we shall live to face that morning,” as “life survives by the power of life,” alone rather than by the graces of some higher being. From this, Miyazaki’s central thesis becomes evident, with the belief that “life is the light that shines in the darkness,” suggesting that our lives are contextualised and given meaning through our interaction with the negative aspects of the world. In the end, humanity is not necessarily doomed to extinction as Nausicaä’s rejection of the past demonstrates humanity’s ability to learn from the mistakes of the past, so as to move forwards and create a better, although still imperfect, future.
Miyazaki’s film adaptation found a simplistic answer in its resolution of conflict through a combination of empathy, sacrifice, and a reverence for nature, however the manga provides a world where there is no definitive resolution, with the world being just as hostile as it was in the beginning. Indeed, in the manga the distinction between the natural and artificial is far less clear, with the earth itself, its flora, its fauna, and humans themselves having already been fundamentally altered by the actions of those from the past. I personally, have always found myself alienated by artificial environments, whether it be the stifling atmosphere of the plane on which I first watched the film adaptation of Nausicaä, the monotony of the suburbs or the harsh lighting of a hospital. Initially, I ascribed this alienation to the artificial nature of these environments, believing that I instead desired a natural and pure world. I have since come to realise that this hatred was ill-conceived, as an existence without the constructed environments to which I am accustomed would be alien one. Planes physically connect us with others from around the world. Houses provide a quiet retreat from an increasingly complex world. Hospitals are sterile for the sake of our health. Although I may not love these constructed environments and realise that many improvements could be made, I can respect their purpose all the same and must learn to live with them.
Our world has been permanently altered and a return to a pure state of nature is impossible for both those in the world of Nausicaä, as well for those of us in the real world. Yet, we must learn to live within our imperfect world, even if our hearts desire utopia. Without the cold darkness of night it is impossible for us to appreciate the nourishing warmth of the day, just as it is impossible for us to truly appreciate the nature without the contrast of civilisation. Within these contrasts we may find meaning. Although our world is one of many imperfections it would be wrong for us to abandon it in pursuit of some false, pure utopia. Instead, we can learn from the mistakes of the past; seeking to better understand our world and then use this understanding to rectify past wrongs. Although the world may be imperfect and contaminated, we as people may grow all the better for it.
"No matter how difficult it is, we must live.”