I have a poor memory for formative moments, but I do remember my life changing one rainy summer day when, aged nine or ten, I saw three Japanese animated films with my father. My parents had separated shortly after my first birthday; my father lived abroad, and we rarely shared each other’s company. So we watched alone, the two of us, until the room disappeared, lit only by the illumination of the television screen.
Like any child of the ‘90s, I was raised on Saturday morning cartoons and comic strips. But here was something altogether different, almost painful, and which reached me in a place I had not felt before.
Princess Mononoke follows Prince Ashitaka, fatally cursed by a corrupted, dying god, on his search for the forest spirit Shishigami who…
