Princess Mononoke (1997): The Hidden Meaning Behind “He is Life Itself”

“He can’t die. He is life itself. He is both life and death.”

When Hayao Miyazaki’s epic Princess Mononoke (Official Studio Ghibli) concludes with these profoundly enigmatic words from Ashitaka, we, the audience, are lulled into a state of quiet acceptance. Through Miyazaki’s masterful cinematic direction, we instinctively think, “I don’t completely understand it, but… it feels emotionally right.” And so, we stop analyzing.

While surrendering to the magic of the film isn’t a bad thing, today, we refuse to stop thinking. We are going to decode exactly what Ashitaka meant.

The key to unlocking this philosophical mystery lies in a glaring behavioral inconsistency during the climax: when Lady Eboshi and her hunters surrounded the Forest Spirit, why didn’t the god stop its transformation into the Night-Walker to defend itself?

Didn’t you also wonder, “Shouldn’t he have dealt with the armed humans first before slowly morphing into a giant?“

I believe this specific, unsettling “strangeness” is the ultimate hint to understanding Ashitaka’s final declaration.

In this deep-dive, we will explore two distinct interpretations. First, we will examine the theory of a “change in the Forest Spirit’s divine nature.” Then, we will look at a deeply emotional interpretation focusing on Ashitaka and San. Because no official Ghibli materials explicitly define this single line, both interpretations hold incredible weight—and it is highly likely that Ashitaka’s words carry both meanings simultaneously.

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

Princess Mononoke (1997) Analysis Theory 1: The Divine Evolution of the Forest Spirit

Miyazaki’s Confession: The Forest Spirit as a “Low-Class God”

In a fascinating conversation with philosopher Takeshi Umehara, recorded in Turning Point: 1997-2008(折り返し地点：1997-2008, in Japanese), Hayao Miyazaki answers the direct question, “What exactly is the Shishigami (Forest Spirit)?” with startling honesty:

“Well, it’s a last resort. It’s the ‘Night’. It wanders around, nurturing the forest. During the day, it disappears and exists as a single creature. It’s a rough creation with deer antlers, a human face, bird’s feet, and a goat’s body… Actually, I depicted this Shishigami as a very low-class god. I couldn’t draw anything beyond that, so in the end, I just made it the ‘God of the Forest’. I was thinking there must be higher-class gods.“

(Original Text in Japanese)
「いや、苦し紛れなんです。『夜』なんですけどね。歩き回って森を育てている。昼間は消えて、一つの生き物としてそこにいるんです。鹿の角をはやした、人面と鳥の足と山羊の身体を持ったような、いい加減なものです。・・・実はこのシシ神も、うんと下級の神様として描いたんです。それ以上はもう描けなくて、結局それを最終的に『森の神』ということにしてしまった。もう少し上級神がいるんだろうと思いながら。」

The majestic “Shishigami”—the entity that causes flowers to bloom with its footsteps, drains life with a glance, and transforms into the towering Night-Walker—was, according to its creator, merely a “low-class god.”

To truly understand the implications of “low-class,” we must look at another quote from Miyazaki. In Ghibli Textbook 10: Princess Mononoke(ジブリの教科書10 もののけ姫, in Japanese), during the segment “Forty-Four Questions for Director Hayao Miyazaki from Foreign Reporters,” he addresses his views on religion and animism:

“There is a religious feeling that still remains strong in many Japanese people today. It is the belief that deep in our country, there is a very pure place where people must not set foot, where rich water flows out and protects a deep forest. I strongly possess this religious sense that it is most wonderful for humans to return to such a pure place. There is no Bible or saints for it. So, at the level of world religions, it may not be recognized as a religion, but for the Japanese, it is a very certain religious feeling.”

(Original Text in Japanese)
「今でも多くの日本人の中に宗教心として強く残っている感情があります。それは自分たちの国の一番奥に、人が足を踏み入れてはいけない非常に清浄なところがあって、そこには豊かな水が流れ出て、深い森を守っているのだと信じている心です。そういう一種の清浄感があるところに人間は戻っていくのが一番素晴らしいんだという宗教感覚を、僕は激しく持っています。それには聖書もなければ、聖人もいないんです。ですから世界の宗教レベルでは、宗教として認められないけれども、日本人にとっては、非常に確かな宗教心なんです。」

Using these profound statements as our foundation, let’s decode Ashitaka’s cryptic words.

A God Bound by Nature: Why the Metamorphosis Couldn’t Be Stopped

To grasp Ashitaka’s meaning, we must return to the glaring strangeness of the climax. Why didn’t the Forest Spirit halt its transformation into the Night-Walker to defend itself against Lady Eboshi’s iron bullets? Its failure to stop directly resulted in its decapitation.

If we view the Forest Spirit through the lens of a “low-class god,” the answer becomes terrifyingly natural: the Forest Spirit simply cannot choose not to become the Night-Walker.

For the Forest Spirit, the “transformation into the Night-Walker” is an involuntary, physiological phenomenon—much like falling asleep is for humans. It is an act that cannot be resisted and is entirely out of its own control.

Through this perspective, the Forest Spirit and humanity are part of the exact same continuous biological cycle. Yes, the Forest Spirit wields transcendent, magical power, but it is better viewed not as a “supernatural overlord” who commands nature, but as an integrated “part of nature, just like us.”

This biological vulnerability is exactly what Miyazaki meant by “low-class god.”

The Invisible “Higher God”: What Miyazaki Couldn’t Draw

If the physical Forest Spirit is a “low-class god,” what exactly was the “higher god” that Miyazaki struggled to envision?

In the earlier quote, he admitted, “it’s a last resort. It’s the ‘Night’.” This essentially means, “I desperately wanted to visually depict a ‘higher god’ but simply couldn’t, so I settled for drawing the Forest Spirit instead.“

Even as a compromise, the Night-Walker provides massive clues about this higher divinity. In the documentary How Princess Mononoke Was Born(「もののけ姫」はこうして生まれた, in Japanese), the Night-Walker is described as symbolizing “the terrifying darkness of night itself.”

Think about the universal human experience of staring into the pitch-black night. We have all felt the primal, irrational fear of sensing “something” lurking in the dark.

While evolutionary biology explains this as a survival instinct to avoid nocturnal predators, it is undeniable that this deep-seated “fear” gave birth to early spiritual faith.

This fear evolves into the “awe” we feel toward catastrophic natural forces—earthquakes, typhoons, and floods—forming the bedrock of primitive “nature worship.” The critical element here is that the “nature” we worship does not possess a distinct, humanoid form.

In modern times, we understand the meteorology behind typhoons, but ancient “nature worship” isn’t about respecting the wind; it is about worshipping the invisible, formless “something” that hides behind the wind and commands it.

Miyazaki was trying to animate that exact, invisible “something.”

However, he vehemently refused to give that force a recognizable, humanoid face. As he stated, “There is no Bible or saints for it.” Providing a human face would betray the very essence of animism. Furthermore, because the gods in traditional Japanese Shinto mythology often have human forms, Miyazaki was actively attempting to reject those tropes as well.

He created the chimera-like “Shishigami” as a visual compromise. (Though, to ordinary viewers like us, the design is a haunting masterpiece, not a “last resort”).

Ultimately, the “higher god” Miyazaki envisioned is the pure, invisible feeling generated by the belief that “deep in our country, there is a very pure place where people must not set foot.” Because he could not literally draw a “feeling,” he projected it onto the “low-class” Shishigami.

So, what does it mean when the physical Forest Spirit dissolves into the landscape at the end of the film?

Decoding the Quote: The Forest Spirit Ascends

To finally translate Ashitaka’s words, we must establish one crucial, undeniable assumption about the world of Princess Mononoke post-credits:

While the film shows the barren landscape showing slight signs of green recovery, we can assume that over centuries, it will eventually regrow into a dense, thriving forest.

In that future forest, isn’t it highly probable that the “Legend of the Shishigami” will survive?

The survivors of Irontown lived through an apocalypse. That trauma and reverence will be passed down through generations. But future generations will never see the physical creature—the beast that could be wounded by a crude firearm is gone forever. Only the myth will remain.

When future humans walk through that restored forest and sense a terrifying, pure presence, they will attribute it to the Shishigami. If a sudden flood or earthquake strikes, they will call it the wrath of the Shishigami. During days of bountiful harvest, they will thank the will of the Shishigami.

Through its physical destruction, the Forest Spirit evolved. It became the very formless “something” that hides behind the forces of nature, transforming into the ultimate symbol of “a very pure place where people must not set foot.”

Therefore, Ashitaka’s cryptic words can be profoundly translated as:

Now, let’s look at an entirely different, incredibly emotional interpretation.

Princess Mononoke (1997) Analysis Theory 2: A Desperate Prayer for San and Himself

The Forest as San’s Ultimate Anchor

In our deep philosophical dive, we have completely ignored the most fundamental question of the scene: “Who was Ashitaka actually talking to?“

He was looking directly at San. And we must recognize the devastating reality of what San was experiencing in that exact moment. The sacred forest was annihilated by the headless Night-Walker’s ooze.

In that moment, San lost the absolute foundation of her identity and her only reason for living.

Abandoned by humans as an infant, San fiercely identifies as a “wolf,” despite her entirely human biology. Her militant, unwavering mission to “protect the Forest of the Shishigami” was the psychological anchor that allowed her to survive the agonizing contradiction of her existence.

As she stared at the barren wasteland of her destroyed home, her spirit was broken. To a girl drowning in ultimate despair, wasn’t Ashitaka’s declaration the only possible lifeline he could throw her?

In this deeply empathetic context, Ashitaka’s words carry a much simpler, beautiful meaning:

While this is a touching conclusion, we must take the analysis one agonizing step further.

The Unhealed Curse: Ashitaka’s Lingering Hope

Finally, we must turn our psychological lens onto Ashitaka himself.

The entire narrative of Princess Mononoke is driven by Ashitaka’s exile after receiving an unjust, terminal curse. Guided by Jiko-bo, he places all his desperate hope in the “Shishigami,” only to face the crushing realization that the god will not heal his curse. He eventually finds a new purpose in protecting San and a new home in the ashes of Irontown.

But look closely at his arm in the final scenes. The demonic scar faded, but it never completely disappeared.

While Ashitaka appears to have gained a sense of spiritual peace, he is fully aware that he must carry the remnants of the curse for the rest of his life. He stoically accepts this “absurdity” as part of his identity.

However, the only transcendent entity in the entire world with the power to completely erase that curse was the Forest Spirit.

If we view Ashitaka’s final words through the lens of a young man secretly terrified of his lingering death sentence, the dialogue shifts from a comforting promise into a desperate prayer:

This interpretation transforms his stoic wisdom into a raw, painful cry of the soul. While it is heartbreaking to imagine Ashitaka harboring such lingering fear at the end of his epic journey, it perfectly aligns with the film’s core theme of living alongside “absurdity” and “unsolvable problems.” Princess Mononoke is emphatically not a fairy tale where everything is magically fixed.

Ultimately, these three distinct interpretations do not contradict one another. In fact, it is entirely natural to believe that Ashitaka’s final words were a complex, messy cocktail of all these profound thoughts.

When you watch the movie again, what do you hear when Ashitaka says, “He can’t die. He is life itself. He is both life and death”?

The images used in this article are from the Studio Ghibli Still Images collection.