What was the very first Studio Ghibli movie you ever saw in a theater? For an entire generation of anime fans, that first cinematic experience is burned into their memory. For me, that movie was Isao Takahata’s 1994 shape-shifting masterpiece, Pom Poko(Studio Ghibli Official). Perhaps because of that foundational memory, it remains my absolute favorite Ghibli film to this day.

I plan to write a deep-dive analysis into the actual plot and philosophy of the film someday, but today, I want to take a step back. I want to talk about the nostalgic, sometimes blurry childhood memories attached to watching a film that was surprisingly sophisticated for a kid.

Pom Poko hit Japanese theaters in the summer of 1994, when I was still in the lower grades of elementary school. I can barely remember exactly why we went to see it, but I’m almost certain I wasn’t the one who asked to go. Looking back at my father’s behavior afterward, I am convinced he simply wanted to see it himself and dragged me along as an excuse.

Because I was so young, my memories of the actual screening are quite hazy. But there is one hyper-specific detail that I remember with crystal clarity. Let’s start the story from there.

*This is a translated version. The original (Japanese) is available here.

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  • The Surprising Connection to a “Night Movers” Movie
    The upbeat ending theme of Pom Poko, Itsudemo Dareka ga (Someone is Always There), was famously used the previous year in a live-action movie about a midnight moving company helping people flee their debts. Hearing it in two wildly different contexts created a bizarre, lasting childhood memory.
  • The Coveted 12,800 Yen VHS Tape
    Unlike other families who recorded movies off the TV, the only authentic, store-bought Ghibli VHS tape in our house was Pom Poko. My father adored the movie’s traditional, Rakugo-style humor, serving as a perfect example of how a parent’s specific tastes can permanently shape a child’s media consumption.
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Pom Poko (1994) Trivia: The Mystery Behind the Ending Theme Song

The glowing treasure ship from Pom Poko sailing across the dark water toward the city skyline, triggering nostalgic memories of the film's iconic ending theme.

The clearest, most vivid memory I have of watching Pom Poko in that dark theater was the exact moment the credits rolled and the upbeat ending theme, Itsudemo Dareka ga (Someone is Always There) by the band Shang Shang Typhoon, began to play. The moment the music hit, my elementary school brain lit up and I thought, “Wait, that’s the song from the Yonige-ya Honpo movie!“

Pom Poko was released on July 16, 1994. But exactly one year prior, in May 1993, a live-action Japanese comedy called Yonige-ya Honpo 2 (The Night Movers 2) hit theaters. As the title suggests, the film was about a specialized “night moving” company that covertly helps desperate people flee in the middle of the night to escape crushing debt. (Fun fact: I actually learned the brutal financial concept of “personal bankruptcy” purely from watching this comedy franchise as a child).

I loved the Yonige-ya Honpo series, so I had naturally gone to see the sequel the previous year (that one I probably did pester my parents to take me to). When Itsudemo Dareka ga plays at the end of the debt-escape movie, the lyrics feel like an uplifting promise: “No matter how tough life gets, someone is always there for you!” However, when that exact same song plays over the bittersweet, environmentally tragic ending of Pom Poko, it takes on an entirely different, almost melancholic meaning (a topic I plan to analyze deeply in a future post).

Now, it’s fascinating that these two drastically different films shared the exact same ending theme just a year apart. But technically, the gap was supposed to be even shorter. This hilarious behind-the-scenes drama is detailed in Ghibli Textbook 8: Pom Poko (ジブリの教科書8:平成狸合戦ぽんぽこ, in Japanese).

According to legendary Producer Toshio Suzuki, Pom Poko was originally slated for a Winter 1993 release. However, as was infamously common with Director Isao Takahata, production fell massively behind schedule, and it became terrifyingly clear the film wouldn’t be finished in time. Suzuki had to postpone the release, but internally, they knew it wouldn’t be ready until the following summer. However, Suzuki knew that if he told Takahata, “We are delaying it a full year until next summer,” the notoriously slow director would relax, and the film wouldn’t even be ready by then. So, Suzuki employed a brilliant bluff. He officially announced, “We are postponing it to next Spring,” and to make Takahata believe the deadline was real, Suzuki actually spent money printing fake promotional posters that proudly declared, “Coming Spring ’94!” Whether the bluff worked or not, the film finally made it to theaters in the Summer of ’94.

I am a massive animation fan, but I am absolutely not a collector; there isn’t a single anime figure or cel in my entire house. That being said, if one of those fake “Spring ’94” posters—printed for the sole, desperate purpose of psychologically manipulating Director Isao Takahata—still exists somewhere in the Ghibli archives, I would pay a fortune to get my hands on it. I doubt any survived, but I would love to see one.

I’ve strayed a bit from the topic, but the fact remains: the very first thing I processed while watching my first Ghibli film in a theater was recognizing a song from a movie about financial ruin.

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Pom Poko (1994) Nostalgia: The Most Expensive VHS in Our House

When I was in elementary school, Ghibli films were already widely available to purchase on VHS. However, like most normal households, the Ghibli movies I watched on repeat were not expensive, store-bought tapes; they were grainy, commercial-filled recordings my parents had taped directly off Friday night TV broadcasts.

But, to my complete surprise, our family owned exactly one authentic, store-bought Ghibli VHS tape: Pom Poko.

Looking back, I am certain my father bought it strictly for himself. I definitely don’t remember asking for it for Christmas, and as I mentioned earlier, going to the theater to see it was undeniably his idea.

But why did my father love Pom Poko so much? He didn’t seem to care about conveying heavy, moralistic messages to his kid like “let’s cherish nature” or “urban development is destroying wildlife.”

Instead, my father was deeply charmed by the absurd, bawdy, and traditional “comical” elements of the tanukis. While he never stated it explicitly, the way he spoke and the jokes he enjoyed strongly suggested he was a secret fan of Rakugo (traditional Japanese comedic storytelling).

Perhaps because of his influence, my initial childhood impression of Pom Poko was also that it was simply a “comedy.” But it wasn’t modern, laugh-out-loud slapstick; it was a deeply traditional, Rakugo-style humor—the kind of exasperated comedy that makes you shake your head and mutter, “Hey, what are you idiots doing? You’re completely hopeless.”

Regardless of his reasons, my father’s specific taste meant we had a pristine, store-bought VHS tape sitting on our shelf. The official VHS was released on January 1st, the year after its theatrical run, and the retail price was a staggering 12,800 yen (including tax). The price tag was literally printed on the package. There is absolutely no way a child could have successfully begged their parents to buy a single movie that expensive.

It is a funny reality: when a parent genuinely loves a piece of media, the children get to quietly reap the benefits. Today, we live in the endless convenience of the streaming age. You can rent a movie online with a single click for a few dollars. I imagine there are very few parents left who go out of their way to drop a premium price tag to own a physical disc. In a weird, nostalgic way, I consider myself incredibly lucky.

Those are my personal, slightly strange childhood memories regarding Pom Poko. Next time, we will dive into the actual meat of the story and unpack what Takahata was really trying to say.

Read the full analysis: The Hidden Meta-Critique and Oroku’s Dirty Secret Art

The images used in this article are from “Still Images of Studio Ghibli Works“.

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Sifr
A Japanese man in his 30s, originally from northern Japan and now based in Yokohama. He works in the education field by day, and in his spare time, writes articles about his favorite movies and animation.