INDIVIDUATION IN MIYAZAKI‘S HOWL‟S MOVING CASTLE (2004)

A dissertation presented to
the Faculty of Saybrook University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy (Ph.D.) in Psychology
by
Derek Martin

Oakland, California
May, 2015
 UMI Number: 3712659

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 Approval of the Dissertation

INDIVIDUATION IN MIYAZAKI‘S HOWL‟S MOVING CASTLE (2004)

This dissertation by Derek Martin has been approved by the committee members
below, who recommend it be accepted by the faculty of Saybrook University in partial
fulfillment of requirements for the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy in Psychology

Dissertation Committee

___________________________________ _______________________
Carol Lee Bentall Humphreys, Ph.D., Chair Date

___________________________________ _______________________
Jerry M. Ruhl, Ph.D. Date

___________________________________ _______________________
Tiffany R. Baugher, Ph.D. Date
 ii

Abstract

INDIVIDUATION IN MIYAZAKI‘S HOWL‟S MOVING CASTLE (2004)

Derek Martin

Saybrook University

This dissertation provides a psychological interpretation of Hayao Miyazaki‘s

feature-length animated film, Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004). In the film, Howl, a young

wizard, swallows a falling star, becomes stuck with a foothold in youth, and is unable to

transition into his adult personality. Sophie, the other main character in the film, is turned

into an old woman by a witch, and is thereby also challenged in her transition into an

appropriate adult role. The psychological development of each is therefore stuck, yet both

come to be assisted through their relationship to each other.

Considered through a Jungian psychological perspective, Howl and Sophie can be

seen as personifications of inner, contrasexual aspects of the same psyche, and

specifically as elements within Howl‘s psyche. Because the film depicts how these

characters overcome their problems, it can be considered to portray a successful example

of one psyche‘s process of psychological development or individuation. The goal of this

dissertation was to analyze Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) in order to determine if the

challenges that beset Howl and Sophie, and their means of responding to them, can shed

light on the masculine and feminine tasks of individuation that challenge us all.
 iii

Following what Hauke and Hockley (2011) described as an acceleration of

Jungian film studies in the 21st century (p. 11), including Beebe (2001), Hauke & Alister

(2001), Izod (2001), Fredericksen (2005), and Nichols (2010), this dissertation is a case

study that utilizes a hermeneutic methodology, based on Jung‘s method of dream

amplification, to interpret psychologically the symbolic content of the film that relates to

Howl‘s individuation process. It concludes by attempting to consolidate this information

into stages that reflect this process; in doing so, it recognizes Sophie‘s instrumental role

in Howl‘s transition. It therefore ends by identifying the opportunity presented by the

feminine as a solution to the problem of individuation in our time.

 iv

Acknowledgments

The first, and most necessary, acknowledgment is to the chair of this

dissertation‘s committee, Carol Humphreys, who not only has supported this project

through every step in the journey, and greatly encouraged when encouragement was

needed, but whose kind, generous, knowledgeable, and wise spirit has influenced the

process throughout. I would also like to thank this dissertation‘s other committee

members, Jerry Ruhl, whose breadth and depth of Jungian knowledge have not only been

invaluable, but whose interest and knowledge about myth and film have been especially

helpful, and Tiffany Baugher, whose research background in dream amplification and

specific expertise on symbols such as houses have been specifically fitting to this topic.

I would like to thank the staff and instructors at the Houston Jung Center,

especially Karen Magee, Lyn Cowan, and Priscilla Murr, whose courses and seminars

contained much of the information that I presented, and each of whom embodied

something of the spirit of this venture. I would also like to thank James Hollis for not

only developing the Jungian Specialization program and teaching many of its seminars,

but also for stepping in and supervising one of my qualifying essays. Elissa Davis, the

program‘s star librarian, was also very supportive and helpful throughout, especially in

tracking down resources in old Jungian psychology journals. This work was also greatly

supported by the many discussions I had with my fellow students, especially Poh Suan

Zaide, with regard to Jungian theory; Kwodwo Williams, with regard to personal myth;

and Sean Fitzpatrick, with regard to Miyazaki‘s work and the feminine.

I would also like to thank the staff and instructors at Saybrook University,

especially Willson Williams, whose kind and generous support was always quick, useful,
 v

and invaluable. My practicum supervisor, Jennifer Munro, has also been extraordinarily

understanding and supportive throughout, and in so doing, has expertly modeled the same

holding environment that we are encouraged to establish for our clients.

Lastly, and most importantly, I would like to thank all of my friends and family—

especially my parents, Ron and Zona Martin—for their support and encouragement

throughout this lengthy process. A most special and heartfelt thank you goes to my

beautiful wife, Michele Long, whose Jungian knowledge and, especially, Jungian practice

far exceed my own, and who was singularly able to grasp the value and meaning this

project held for me.

 vi

Table of Contents

LIST OF FIGURES ........................................................................................................... ix

CHAPTER I: INTRODUCTION ........................................................................................ 2

Background Information ................................................................................................... 10
Content and Approach ................................................................................................. 10
Success and Critical Acclaim....................................................................................... 12
Miyazaki‘s Work and Focus ........................................................................................ 13

CHAPTER II: LITERATURE REVIEW ......................................................................... 16

The Psychological Role of Myth ...................................................................................... 16
Myths and Archetypes ................................................................................................. 20
Context: Jung‘s Personal Myth .................................................................................... 22
The Myth of Individuation ........................................................................................... 25
Joseph Campbell‘s Four Functions of Myth ................................................................ 27
A Psychological Definition of Myth ............................................................................ 31
Myth as Method ........................................................................................................... 32
Overview of Jungian Theory ............................................................................................ 34
Consciousness and Individuation................................................................................. 36
Complexes and Archetypes.......................................................................................... 39
The Problem of the Shadow ......................................................................................... 42
Soul and Contrasexuality ............................................................................................. 44
Psychological Development......................................................................................... 47
Psychological development and consciousness ...................................................... 50
Psychological development and metaphor.............................................................. 52
The Opposites .............................................................................................................. 55
The Transcendent Function.......................................................................................... 57
Initiation and Transition .............................................................................................. 59
Parental Complexes ..................................................................................................... 62
Mother complex ...................................................................................................... 63
Stages of Anima Development .................................................................................... 67
Bridge to the Self ......................................................................................................... 68
Controversy: The Anima or Archetypal Feminine ........................................................... 71
Conclusion ........................................................................................................................ 76

CHAPTER III: INTERPRETIVE METHOD: .................................................................. 78

Discovering our Myth ....................................................................................................... 78
Hermeneutic Methods ....................................................................................................... 83
Jung‘s Hermeneutic Method ............................................................................................. 85
Amplification .................................................................................................................... 89
Jung‘s Method of Amplification ....................................................................................... 92

CHAPTER IV: STUDY DESIGN .................................................................................... 97

Jungian Film Studies ......................................................................................................... 97
 vii

Choice of Data .................................................................................................................. 99

Method and Purpose ....................................................................................................... 103
Steps ................................................................................................................................ 106
Limits of the Study.......................................................................................................... 110

CHAPTER V: STRUCTURE AND CHARACTERS .................................................... 117

Exposition ....................................................................................................................... 117
The Castle ................................................................................................................. 117
Conflict ..................................................................................................................... 119
Development ............................................................................................................. 120
Perpetia and Lysis .......................................................................................................... 121
Setting: Time and Place ............................................................................................ 122
Time .................................................................................................................... 122
Place .................................................................................................................... 125
Summary ............................................................................................................. 127
Characters ....................................................................................................................... 129
Howl .......................................................................................................................... 129
Sophie ....................................................................................................................... 131
The Witch of the Waste ............................................................................................ 132
Madame Suliman ...................................................................................................... 133
Calcifer ...................................................................................................................... 134
Markle ....................................................................................................................... 135
Heen .......................................................................................................................... 136
Howl‘s Castle ............................................................................................................ 136
Turnip Head .............................................................................................................. 137
Honey ........................................................................................................................ 137
Lettie ......................................................................................................................... 138
The King ................................................................................................................... 138

CHAPTER VI: SCENE INTERPRETATIONS ............................................................. 139

Overview .................................................................................................................... 139
Scene 1: Howl‘s Castle .............................................................................................. 140
Scene 2: Sophie .......................................................................................................... 143
Scene 3: Meeting Howl .............................................................................................. 149
Scene 4: Taking Flight ............................................................................................... 153
Scene 5: Lettie............................................................................................................ 156
Scene 6: The Witch of the Waste ............................................................................... 159
Scene 7: Honey .......................................................................................................... 162
Scene 8: Leaving Home ............................................................................................. 164
Scene 9: Turnip Head................................................................................................. 167
Scene 10: Howl‘s Castle ............................................................................................ 172
Scene 11: Calcifer ...................................................................................................... 175
Scene 12: Markle ....................................................................................................... 180
Scene 13: The Portal .................................................................................................. 182
Scene 14: Cleaning Lady ........................................................................................... 186
Scene 15: The Message .............................................................................................. 190
 viii

Scene 16: A Thorough Cleaning ................................................................................ 192

Scene 17: Star Lake ................................................................................................... 195
Scene 18: Howl‘s War ............................................................................................... 199
Scene 19: Porthaven ................................................................................................... 202
Scene 20: Howl‘s Tantrum ........................................................................................ 204
Scene 21: Howl‘s Recovery ....................................................................................... 209
Scene 22: To the Palace ............................................................................................. 211
Scene 23: The Witch‘s Trap ...................................................................................... 214
Scene 24: Madame Suliman....................................................................................... 218
Scene 25: Confrontation ............................................................................................ 224
Scene 26: Return to the Castle ................................................................................... 229
Scene 27: Sophie‘s Dream of the Monster ................................................................ 233
Scene 28: Cleaning Up............................................................................................... 236
Scene 29: Expansion and Reorientation .................................................................... 239
Scene 30: Howl‘s Secret Garden ............................................................................... 243
Scene 31: Back at the Hat Shop ................................................................................. 247
Scene 32: Honey‘s Betrayal ....................................................................................... 249
Scene 33: Howl‘s Return ........................................................................................... 252
Scene 34: Moving the Castle ..................................................................................... 256
Scene 35: Howl‘s Heart ............................................................................................. 259
Scene 36: Sophie‘s Journey ....................................................................................... 263
Scene 37: Reunion ..................................................................................................... 268
Scene 38: Return ........................................................................................................ 271
Scene 39: Resolution.................................................................................................. 274
Scene 40: Outcome .................................................................................................... 278

CHAPTER VII: CONCLUSION .................................................................................... 282

Howl‘s Stages of Transformation ................................................................................... 282
Stage 1: Fear and Suffering........................................................................................ 283
Stage 2: Meeting the Contrasexual Other .................................................................. 288
Stage 3: Confronting the Fear .................................................................................... 292
Stage 4: Risking it All ................................................................................................ 294
Stage 5: Death ............................................................................................................ 295
Stage 6: Resurrection ................................................................................................. 296
The Role of the Feminine in our Time............................................................................ 299

REFERENCES ............................................................................................................... 305

 ix

List of Figures

Figure 1: Poster from the Japanese release ........................................................................ 1

Figure 2: Title sequence ................................................................................................. 124
Figure 3: Howl‘s castle appearing through the mist ...................................................... 140
Figure 4: Sophie watches Howl‘s castle briefly appear out of the clouds ..................... 143
Figure 5: Sophie is confronted by soldiers .................................................................... 149
Figure 6: Howl and Sophie take flight ........................................................................... 153
Figure 7: Sophie daydreams as Lettie is speaking to her ............................................... 156
Figure 8: The Witch of the Waste leaving the hat shop ................................................. 159
Figure 9: Honey models her Kingsbury hat ................................................................... 162
Figure 10: Sophie discovers that she has been turned into an old woman ..................... 164
Figure 11: Turnip Head brings Sophie a cane. ............................................................... 167
Figure 12: Turnip Head shows Sophie the way into Howl‘s castle. ............................... 172
Figure 13: Sophie meets Calcifer. ................................................................................... 175
Figure 14: Markle discovers Sophie in the castle ........................................................... 180
Figure 15: Markle opening the front portal door to Porthaven. ...................................... 182
Figure 16: Sophie prepares to cook breakfast on Calcifer .............................................. 186
Figure 17: The Witch of the Waste‘s note for Howl. ..................................................... 190
Figure 18: Sophie vigorously cleans the castle. .............................................................. 192
Figure 19: Sophie and Markle arrive at Star Lake .......................................................... 195
Figure 20: Howl surveys the bombed and burning countryside ..................................... 199
Figure 21: Crowds in Porthaven gather to view the sinking battleship .......................... 202
Figure 22: Howl is upset and begins to dissolve............................................................. 204
Figure 23: Sophie talks with Howl in his bedroom. ....................................................... 208
Figure 24: Sophie and the Witch of the Waste climb the stairs to the Royal Palace. ..... 211
Figure 25: The Witch of the Waste in Madame Suliman‘s trap. .................................... 214
Figure 26: Sophie confronts Madame Suliman. ............................................................. 218
Figure 27: Howl saves Sophie and the Witch of the Waste
from Madame Suliman‘s trap ........................................................................ 224
Figure 28: Sophie‘s ring leading her to Calcifer. ............................................................ 229
Figure 29: Sophie enters Howl‘s cave ............................................................................ 233
Figure 30: Sophie surveys the clouds below................................................................... 236
Figure 31: Howl and Calcifer transform the castle ......................................................... 239
Figure 32: Howl‘s private study. .................................................................................... 243
Figure 33: Madame Suliman‘s henchmen looking for the castle. .................................. 247
Figure 34: Honey embraces Sophie. ............................................................................... 249
Figure 35: Sophie embraces Howl after he saves them .................................................. 252
Figure 36: Howl tears into a battleship. .......................................................................... 255
Figure 37: Heen jumps to Sophie as she falls. ................................................................ 259
Figure 38: Sophie and Heen cross liminal space. ........................................................... 263
Figure 39: Howl takes Sophie and Heen to find Calcifer ............................................... 268
Figure 40: Sophie talks to Calcifer before returning Howl‘s heart to his chest.............. 271
Figure 41: Heen reports to Madame Suliman ................................................................. 274
Figure 42: Sophie and Howl on the balcony of the flying castle. ................................... 278
Figure 43: Howl‘s castle in flight. .................................................................................. 299
 1

Figure 1: Poster from the Japanese release (Searleman, 2004, p. 207).

 2

CHAPTER I: INTRODUCTION

Jung believed that psychological problems were on the rise in our time. He stated

that, ―side by side with the decline of religious life, the neuroses grow noticeably more

frequent‖ (1969b, p. 335). Due to this declining interest in our traditional religions and

mythology in the Western world, Jung (1969a) concluded that we have been losing our

traditional knowledge on how to reconcile our lives with our inner archetypal natures, as

well as on how to make necessary transitions from one stage of life and social role to the

next (p. 34). Yet Jung also came to recognize that each of us needed to look for this

knowledge no further than within the self-regulating and compensatory nature of our own

psyches. Whether we consciously recognized it or not, he postulated that our psyches

continually produced new instructions aimed at our psychological development and

healing in the products and projections that our unconscious minds autonomously

created.

With many of the traditional forms of instruction on how to navigate life transi-

tions and psychological growth now lost to us, some find themselves today in the position

of fearfully clinging to outgrown or outmoded stages of development. Many are uncon-

sciously living lives of collective adaptation rather than ones that provide more of a

personal meaning and value. Jung (1969b) described neuroses as ―an inner cleavage—the

state of being at war with oneself‖ (p. 340); without instructions on how to transition into

roles that reflect our inner selves, many of us today may be at war with the interior call-

ings of our psyches. Unfortunately, this state of war within can also be reflected without,

for, as Jung also acknowledged, we can and do project everything we do not consciously

recognize and accept about ourselves onto those around us.

 3

Jung‘s own awareness of these psychological problems began just over a century

ago, when he recognized that he did not know his own ―myth‖ (1967b, pp. xxiv-xxv). In

other words, Jung realized that he did not ascribe to or experience a deep sense of mean-

ing from the traditional beliefs of his parents and forebears; moreover, he also did not

know what had taken their place. Thus Jung devoted himself to discovering what deeply

mattered to him, describing his innermost values and aspirations. In so doing, Jung

ultimately discovered not only his own inner instructions for psychological growth, or

what he called his ―personal myth,‖ but also the existence of a collective unconscious that

is the inner source of the same kinds of instructions for us all. Jung used this insight as

the foundation for a new field of psychology, one with the goal of helping individuals to

discover and become reconciled with the unconscious parts of their own psyches. This

new approach thus provided a means through which to become psychically1 integrated

and whole. Jung called this inner guide and method the individuation process, one

through which, if it is attended to consciously, people can work to become more of what

they already, but unconsciously, are.

Even though many individuals today may not consciously know how to heal,

develop, and grow psychologically, through attending to contents produced by their own

psyches spontaneously and autonomously, they can similarly learn to discover the arche-

typal instructions intended to assist their own individuation process. They can choose to

look for this information in their dreams and imaginations, or seek to discover it in the

outer world. While some of this information may be unique to the goals and interests of

specific individuals, much of it can be useful to many others, because most of us share

1
By ―psychically,‖ as I use it throughout this dissertation, I mean ―of the psyche.‖
 4

many attributes with each other, especially those of us who are members of the same

cultures and subcultures.

Archetypes are common factors that we share with our fellow human beings

(Jung, 1969b, p. 160). It is this common interior archetypal nature that has led many of

our traditional religious images and motifs, myths and fairy tales, and even art and

literature to move and inspire us for millennia. Archetypes encourage us to seek to

uncover essential information that still holds meaning for us in all of these forms; they

also foster our ability to find value in the objects upon which we project them and in the

creative products that we each unconsciously, and autonomously, construct.

Even though products such as dreams can potentially contain archetypal informa-

tion, they may not be in a form that is easy to recognize or understand. Using Jung‘s

methods one can work to identify archetypal information, interpret its psychological

meanings, and apply the results to our own individuation. Much of Jung‘s work, along

with the continuing work of many Jungians, has led to a large and growing body of

literature on many images and motifs that symbolically relate to psychological develop-

ment. Even so, culture is always evolving, and the products that contain this information

today for the collective, such as myths, can lose their ability to move and inspire us. Yet

at the same time, every individual brings into the world a whole new constellation of

archetypes and mythic potential. As individuals, and as members of ever-evolving and

changing cultures and subcultures, we are all challenged to discover relevant and reso-

nant archetypal information—our instructions for life—as we age. To the extent that we

cannot find it in old bottles, we must search for it in new ones.

 5

This dissertation seeks to uncover information that relates to the individuation

process as it appears in a contemporary film. Specifically, it conducts a psychological

interpretation of Miyazaki‘s film Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) in order to determine if it

contains any elements of a myth of individuation for our time—a myth that can specifi-

cally inform and assist the psychological development and life transitions of individuals

today.

In the film, Howl, a young male wizard, is caught in a conflict between a sor-

ceress, Madame Suliman, who rules the center of the kingdom, and a witch, who rules the

kingdom‘s wild borderlands—the Witch of the Waste. The title of the film refers to

Howl‘s use of magic to move his castle, his home, in order to hide from these powerful

women. Read psychologically, hiding, or otherwise resisting the call to face one‘s devel-

opmental challenges, is regressive. By using his energy to maintain his safety and to

distract himself with pleasurable digressions, Howl is blocked in his ability to transition

into an adult role. Howl‘s task—the film‘s main conflict—is to discover how to face and

resolve his struggles, so that that he can establish a safe and supportive home for himself

and begin to move forward in his own life. Because the main conflict of the film could be

said to revolve around a problem in Howl‘s psychological development and its resolu-

tion, it describes Howl‘s individuation process.

Due to its central focus on a male protagonist, Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004)

could be interpreted psychologically to be a depiction of a male developmental problem.

Yet because all individuals, as seen through a Jungian lens, have a masculine part of their

psyche, and because Western civilization has a long-standing masculine, or patriarchal,

bias, the film could also be said to describe a developmental problem that affects us all.
 6

Its dilemma is one that can shape each of us on an individual as well as on a collective

level. This dissertation‘s psychological interpretation of Howl‘s efforts to individuate

could, therefore, be potentially more broadly applicable than to individual males alone.

Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) could also be said to have a female protagonist.2

Sophie, a young woman, helps Howl identify and resolve his problem. Yet Sophie also

has a problem of her own. Initially Sophie is overly dutiful, focused on running her

deceased father‘s hat shop rather than pursuing her own interests and development. This

ends when she is turned into a 90-year-old woman by the Witch of the Waste, thus being

forced to leave her old life in order to find a way to break the spell. Viewed psycho-

logically, Sophie could also be said to have a developmental problem of her own, one

that is similarly settled by the end of the film. Thus the film could be said to identify and

resolve a psychological problem with the feminine, thereby potentially providing infor-

mation relevant to the feminine development of each individual as well as our collective

patriarchal Western culture.

In other words, through a Jungian theoretical framework that describes each

individual‘s psyche as containing both masculine and feminine elements, one can consi-

der Howl and Sophie as embodiments of the two opposing and interacting archetypal

energies within the same psyche. Their interwoven narratives could be said to provide

metaphors that allow for an interpretation of the feminine and masculine tasks of indivi-

duation that similarly challenge us all.

Gender identity can be considered fluid, and individuals may find themselves

somewhere on a continuum between masculine and feminine. Even so, many individuals

2
While the term protagonist is often used only for the main character of a film, if one considers Sophie and
Howl to be representatives of feminine and masculine aspects of a psyche, then they are of equal
importance.
 7

consciously identify with, and have conscious awareness of, only one gender. If that is

true, then awareness of the opposite gender within oneself is often unconscious. Unfor-

tunately, to the extent that the contrasexual other is unconscious, it is unknown and

unrelated to one‘s ego; this means that it can exert influence only from behind the scenes,

projecting itself upon individuals and institutions, flooding one‘s ego with moods and

emotions, and even possessing one‘s consciousness. At the same time, the contrasexual

other brings energy that is needed for one‘s life and psychological development. Without

its counter-balancing effect upon the ego, one‘s ego has the potential to act out of balance

with the rest of one‘s psyche. Witnessing both aspects together, whether in a dream or a

film, provides a chance to see the unconscious element and acknowledge what a

dynamic, interactive relationship between them looks like. To consider Howl‟s Moving

Castle (2004) as metaphorically depicting twin interacting energies within the same

psyche is to have the opportunity to discover and relate to the interplay between partly

visible and party invisible factors and dynamics that affect all of our lives.

Another reason why one‘s inner contrasexual other is valuable is that it plays the

role of messenger, or bridge, to the Self. The Self could be called the inner archetype of

wholeness within each individual‘s psyche. Jung used the Self as a metaphor for that

aspect of one‘s psyche that endeavors to regulate and unify its disparate parts and

processes. In its role as a bridge, one‘s inner, constrasexual other could thus be consi-

dered as a potential messenger of individuation, for its message brings the possibility of

psychological healing, balance, and growth. Yet it is only through working to become

aware of one‘s ongoing inner relationship with this other, and through consciously

striving to receive its message, that one may be able to discover and meaningfully
 8

integrate any instructions related to one‘s individuation process that it may carry into

one‘s life.

This dissertation, in sum, attempts to interpret Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) as if

it were a dream or myth utilizing a method called objective amplification. This is a

method Jung developed to translate unknown symbols by comparing them to known ones

from the world‘s mythologies, as well as to other recognizable archetypal representations

from the world‘s history and contemporary culture.

This dissertation could also be said to consider the film as if it were Howl‘s

dream, for Jung developed and used amplification for dream interpretation. At the same

time, it could also be said to consider the film as if it were a ―myth,‖ for Jung similarly

employed amplification to interpret myths, as well as art, visions, and even literature.

Dreams and myths are related, for both can contain archetypal information, but they

come from different perspectives, one personal and one collective. As Kron (2012)

explained, ―the myth, according to … Joseph Campbell, is a public dream, while the

dream is the private myth of each one of us‖ (p. 10). Viewing Howl‟s Moving Castle

(2004) as a myth or a dream depends mostly on whether one is considering its images and

motifs for individual or collective purposes, i.e., as a specific example of the personal

individuation process that contains idiosyncratic instructions for one individual, or as a

potential process of psychological development that holds instructions for many.

The dissertation specifically regards Howl as a personification of ―the masculine,‖

as a representative of the masculine side within all individuals as well as a potential

representative of the masculine in our collective culture. It similarly considers Sophie as

an example of the feminine within both ourselves and the culture at large. Because one of
 9

these factors is often unconscious within every individual‘s psyche, and because the

feminine has been, and continues to be, repressed by the patriarchal nature of our culture,

this film is a potentially valuable example through which to witness and describe these

opposite, and usually only partly visible, factors and their dynamic interplay. This disser-

tation specifically attempts to identify aspects of this relationship that ultimately lead to

Howl‘s psychological healing and growth.

When Jung‘s method of amplification is used to interpret myths, it often stops at

the stage of psychological interpretation, which translates myths into a form that we can

intellectually understand. When it is employed for dream amplification, it usually forms a

part of one‘s personal analysis; its goal is for its results to be used and applied in one‘s

life. In this dissertation, I attempt to do something of both. The results section identifies

and describes some of the symbolic content of the film that relates to individuation, and

then interprets this information psychologically. The concluding section endeavors to

consolidate this psychological information by grouping it into stages that portray Howl‘s

psychological journey. It thereby translates it into a psychological narrative that depicts it

as a process of individuation. Put another way, this last section could be described as an

attempt to translate the film into a narrative that captures something of a new myth of

individuation, one that may, therefore, have potential relevance today. The paper

concludes by discussing one theme that this study specifically identified: the relevance of

the feminine to the task of individuation in our time.

 10

Background Information

Content and Approach

The film, Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004), is based on a children‘s book of the same

title by British writer Diana Wynne Jones (1986); it is the first in a series of three books.

The film, which brought Japanese animated filmmaker Hayao Miyazaki out of retirement

(Brooks, 2005), was his first production after his animated film Spirited Away (2001)

won Best Animated Feature at the Academy Awards in 2002. After securing film rights

to the book through Studio Ghibli, Miyazaki spent two years writing the screenplay and

drawing storyboards. While he had initially handed off the directing role to Mamoru

Hosoda, he decided to direct it himself when Hosoda unexpectedly quit (Child, 2013).

Miyazaki made significant changes to the original book, especially to the setting

and plot. For example, he changed it to a wartime setting and moved part of it outside of

Britain to Alsace, a region that is now part of France. Miyazaki also altered much of the

plot, dropping several characters in the process, substantially changing others, and even

adding a new one.

Jones was not involved in, or apprised of, the changes that were ultimately made

to adapt her book into a film. While she publicly noted that her story had been signifi-

cantly altered, Jones also professed admiration for Miyazaki and his adaptation, stating

that Miyazaki ―thinks‖ like her and sees her books ―from the inside out‖ (Bradshaw,

2005). Interestingly, Jones may have even been influenced by one of Miyazaki‘s changes

to the film, the addition of the dog Heen, who played a helping role vis-à-vis other

characters. In Jones‘s third installment of the series to which Howl‟s Moving Castle
 11

belongs, in a book that was written after the film‘s release3, she actually added the

character of a dog who assisted other characters.

The goal of this dissertation was not to attempt to document Miyazaki‘s changes

to Jones‘s book. While such a study could open up interesting areas of research, it would

also prompt additional lenses through which to view the film, such as gender, politics,

and culture. The approach of this study was to view the film as it appears through a

psychological lens only. It considered the film as a narrative dataset that symbolically

describes a psychological process within an individual, i.e., Howl‘s psyche. Its ultimate

goal was to attempt to discover what the film has to say about individuation in our time.

After the Walt Disney Company bought distribution rights to all of Miyazaki‘s

films in 1997, Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) was the third of his films distributed world-

wide, in both subtitled and dubbed versions. Disney also produced and directed the

English-language dubbing of the film at its own Pixar Studios in California. While the

dub was based on Miyazaki‘s script, Disney needed to translate it into English for

audiences outside Miyazaki‘s native Japan. The company also introduced changes to

make the dialogue better capture the meanings of scenes in the English language, as well

as to synchronize it with the animation drawn for the Japanese-language script.

Due to the process of converting the original English language book to a Japanese

film, and then translating its dialogue back into English, using American direction and

actors from the United States and Britain, the number of potential influences would make

the incorporation of Jung‘s step of personal amplification difficult, if not impossible.

Most contemporary high-budget films are collaborative efforts; that is, throughout the

course of a film‘s development many people ultimately influence the final product. In
3
D. W. Jones, (2008), House of Many Ways, New York, NY: Greenwillow Books.
 12

order to use personal amplification, a researcher would need to track these influences

through each stage of a film‘s production as a way of uncovering personal information

might have found its way into the final product. Such an effort would prove extremely

difficult at best for most films, but probably impossible for Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004).

With regard to the two individuals who could be said to have had the greatest influence

on its content, Jones is deceased, and Miyazaki is notoriously reclusive (Brooks, 2005).

Even so, with layers of authorship and production that span three continents, and

settings that encompass many northern European nations, the resulting film could be said

to reflect an almost international origin and scope. Because of this, and because the film

was also created for a worldwide audience, to the extent that it contains symbolic content

that resonates with audiences worldwide, it could be said to capture and reflect archetypal

themes. Under those circumstances, it could also be called something of a global ―myth.‖

Yet because much of its content is also apt to be personal and cultural, as well as con-

sciously designed to entertain, it could only be called a myth in the broadest sense of the

term.

Success and Critical Acclaim

The success of a film depends on the way it is being judged. In terms of the

money that it made, the popular website [Link] listed worldwide ticket sales

for Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) at $235.2 million, which ranks its financial success at

number 461 among all films that have ever been made.4 To put this into perspective, this

means that Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) ranks above such Academy Award-winning

films as Argo (2012), The English Patient (1996), and Good Will Hunting (1997), which

4
The date of this ranking, and of all other statistics that were taken [Link], was August
30, 2014.
 13

rank at numbers 466, 467, and 485 respectively. In terms of prizes, Howl‟s Moving Castle

was nominated for sixteen international film awards, including the 2005 Academy Award

for Best Animated Feature; it won fourteen of them.5

Even though Miyazaki‘s films enjoy global popularity, they are even more popu-

lar in his native Japan. His film Princess Mononoke (1997)6 was the first film produced in

Japan ever to become the top grossing film in the year it was released (McCarthy, 1999);

it was also the first time that this spot was taken by an animated feature (McCarthy, 2002,

p. 47). Miyazaki‘s next film, Spirited Away (2001). also became the number one film in

Japan that year in terms of box office sales (Brooks, 2005); it greatly increased his popu-

larity worldwide when it won the prize for Best Animated Feature at the Academy

Awards in 2002. Although Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) did not win when nominated for

the same Academy award in 2005, Miyazaki himself was presented an Honorary Award

during the 2014 Academy Awards.

Miyazaki’s Work and Focus

Japanese animated films and television shows, often refereed to as anime, and

comic books, called manga, have a long tradition in Japan. They have especially experi-

enced growing popularity after the Second World War. Miyazaki, who has been involved

in all three forms for over half of a century, co-founded a successful animation studio,

Studio Ghibli, with another Japanese animator in order to focus on feature-length films

(McCarthy, 1999). He is particularly well known for working on manga and anime with

young female leading characters. This pattern began with the television shows Alpine

Girl Heidi (1974) and Anne of Green Gables (1979), and includes all but one of the first

5
This information was retrieved from the Internet Movie Database: [Link]
awards?ref_=tt_awd
6
It was originally titled Mononoke Hime in Japan.
 14

eight feature-length films for which he wrote the screenplay and which he directed at

Studio Ghibli, a list that includes Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004). In a course on Japanese

animation to which Miyazaki (1988) contributed, he described what led to his interest in

young female leading characters:

I have to make an embarrassing confession. I fell in love with the heroine of a

cartoon movie. My soul was moved.... It made me realize what a fool I was, who
was trying to be a manga writer by writing an absurd drama, which was in fashion
at that time. It made me realize that despite the words of distrust I spoke, I
yearned for such an earnest and pure world though it may be a cheap melodrama.
I could no longer deny the fact that I really wanted to affirm the world. Since
then, it seems that I came to think seriously about what I should make. At least, I
came to think that I should work with my true heart, even if that's embarrassing.

Regarding his approach to his subject matter, Miyazaki wrote:

I think that a popular movie has to be full of true emotion, even if it's frivolous.
The entrance should be low and wide so that anyone can be invited in, but the exit
should be high and purified. It shouldn't be something that admits, emphasizes, or
enlarges the lowness. I don't like Disney movies. The entrance and the exit are
lined up at the same low height and width.

In other words, Miyazaki believed that films can be beneficial for the audience‘s psycho-

logical condition. While he did not state what he specifically meant by ―high and

purified,‖ he did suggest that it can be achieved by offering the audience an experience of

―true emotion.‖ Considered psychologically, emotion could be called a direct experience

of a part of the psyche that lies beyond the ego, and thus by true emotion one can infer

that he meant those direct emotional encounters that reflect something of the unconscious

archetypal and instinctual basis of one‘s inner world.

Even though Miyazaki did not describe at length his personal associations for

Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004), he did give an insight into them during a rare interview

when the film was first screened at the Venice Film Festival:
 15

Personally I am very pessimistic, but when, for instance, one of my staff has a
baby you can't help but bless them for a good future. Because I can't tell that
child, ―Oh, you shouldn‘t have come into this life.‖ And yet I know the world is
heading in a bad direction. So with those conflicting thoughts in mind, I think
about what kind of films I should be making.... I believe that children‘s souls are
the inheritors of historical memory from previous generations. It‘s just that as
they grow older and experience the everyday world that memory sinks lower and
lower. I feel I need to make a film that reaches down to that level. If I could do
that I would die happy.... If, as artists, we try to tap into that soul level—if we say
that life is worth living and the world is worth living in—then something good
might come of it. Maybe that‘s what these films are doing. They are my way of
blessing the child (Brooks, 2005).

This is a long quote, but I included it because it captures something of the beliefs and

intentions that Miyazaki may have held while making the film. His use of the term ―soul

level,‖ and his description of the ―historical memory from previous generations,‖ may

relate to something of the archetypal realm and the archetypal images and motifs that are

posited within Jungian psychological theory. While the goal of this dissertation is not to

focus its analysis on what Miyazaki or others may have intended, this quote does suggest

that a Jungian approach of objective amplification may suit something of Miyazaki‘s own

orientation towards the material.

 16

CHAPTER II: LITERATURE REVIEW

The Psychological Role of Myth

Over the doorway leading into his home in Küsnacht, Carl Jung famously carved

the message of the Delphic Oracle: ―Vocatus atque non vocatus deus aderit,‖ which in

English reads, ―Called or not called, the god(s) will be there‖ (Hillman & Ventura, 1992,

p. 37). The message provided a reminder to all who passed it on their way into Jung‘s

house that the psychic energies that humankind has always personified as gods remain as

active today as they were in ancient Greece. Jung recognized that this message is all the

more important today, because many individuals in the Western world have lost their

means of recognizing these energies and how they affect what we do. For many of us the

images and motifs of our traditional religions now fail to move us; they may still be

images of gods, but the energies that once infused them have departed and gone under-

ground.

One of the reasons why mythic images and motifs have lost their energy is that

our cultural identities and values have changed. Even though our culture was influenced

by the myths of ancient Greece and Rome, as well as nearly two centuries of Christianity,

the new guiding ―myths‖ of Western civilization are reason, positivist science, capitalism,

and materialism. This change fosters a attitude of objectivity focused more on discrim-

ination—that is, dividing and separating everything into constituent parts, categorizing

everything into classes, and concomitantly finding everything suspect not directly per-

ceived by our five senses. Politically, this favors a patriarchal system over a matriarchal

one, fostering what has been called a masculine, patriarchal style of consciousness over a

feminine, matriarchal consciousness, with more Logos than Eros (Neumann, 1994;
 17

Tacey, 1997). Woodman (1993) described the alternative kind of consciousness as

―conscious femininity,‖ more a sensed and felt understanding ―in the gut‖ (p. 14) than

one of cognitions of the thinking mind. Psychologically, this means that, as we have

focused on those objective factors that can be seen and measured in the world around

us—masculine consciousness—we have lost our means of relating to the subjective

world within—feminine consciousness. Even the term myth has come to be disparaged in

our time; instead of being respected for its lessons and teachings of subjective knowl-

edge, the term currently carries a connotation of falsehood, with these traditional stories

now mostly taught only to children.

Though many of us in the West, both individually and collectively, have stopped

consciously recognizing, and paying homage to, the energies of ―the gods‖ that the

Delphic Oracle proclaimed, it does not mean they have ceased to exist. In losing the

ability to experience the psyche‘s energies in their traditional personified images, we

have all, individually and collectively, lost one of our direct means to witness them. At

the same time as our ability to perceive the objective workings of the world without and

within has grown, this development has come at the cost of our ability to recognize the

subjective factors that influence us from within. Since the age of reason, and especially

with the rise of positivist science over the last two centuries, many of us have now come

to believe that we are able to understand the world only through objective means, and that

we have complete conscious control over our decisions and our lives. The ancient

Greeks, if they were somehow given the chance, would likely label our contemporary

attitude as one of hubris. If we could somehow seek their advice today, they might tell us
 18

that we have forgotten our place in relation to ―the gods‖—to those forces that control

our fate.

Jung might well have agreed with this, as he believed that our egos are not in as

much control of our lives as we might believe, nor is our thinking as reasonable as we

might hope. Living in Switzerland through two World Wars, Jung (1970a) witnessed

what he believed to be an eruption of unconscious forces that came to possess otherwise

civilized nations and individuals, leading them to terrible ends and deeds (pp.179-193). In

the past century, many individuals in developed and developing nations have come to be

living lifestyles increasingly out of balance with the natural world. As our capacity to

affect the world‘s ecosystems detrimentally has increased, their capacity to sustain our

existence, i.e., their carrying capacity, has not. Thus, even though the collective

worldview of Western civilization may value consciousness and reason, it could be said

that most of us have also come to be living lives of epic dissociation. Dissociation is an

internal, unconscious process that protects the fragile ego by splitting off, and burying

from consciousness, our knowledge of contents that our psyches find intolerable. When

such a process becomes a problem for one‘s life, especially if it gets in the way of one‘s

continuing existence, it is a psychological problem that needs to be addressed.

Jung (1969b) stated that, ―in all cases of dissociation it is ... necessary to integrate

the unconscious into consciousness. This is a synthetic process which I have termed the

‗individuation process‘‖ (p. 40). Put simply, individuation is a matter of individuals

working consciously to integrate the unconscious part of their psyches, aligning their

egos to their psyches‘ autonomous drive to wholeness. Jung described this drive as ―the

strongest, the most ineluctable urge in every being, namely the urge to realize itself‖ (p.
 19

170). Because cultures are made up of and reflect the psychological development of the

individuals within them, individuation is a task for each one of us, and, as Jung

recognized, a psychological one at that.

Coming to know the inner factors that influence, possess, and drive our actions

has thus become of paramount importance in our time; moreover, in the context of our

ever-increasing capacity to do harm to ourselves and to our planet, it has even become a

matter of survival. As Jung (1970a) described this predicament, ―The situation is about

the same as if a small boy of six had been given a gift of dynamite for a birthday present.

We are not one hundred percent convinced by his assurances that no calamity will

happen‖ (p. 243). He could not have stated our problem more simply. It is not only the

dynamite, which our science has enabled us to create, but also who is holding it. By

choosing to portray our collective culture in terms of a six-year-old boy with a stick of

dynamite, Jung pointedly noted that our culture is not only ―masculine,‖ i.e., patriarchal,

but also a masculine consciousness that has developed only to infancy and with no more

than a child‘s capacity for restraint.

By stating the problem so clearly, Jung also implied an equally clear solution. We

must recognize our dilemma and learn to ―grow up.‖ In order to do this, we need to

become conscious of the myth we serve, which requires us to look not only without but

also within. It also calls on us to find a way to counter our masculine, patriarchal, Logos-

oriented culture by integrating a more feminine, relational, nurturing, and Eros-affirming

one.
 20

Myths and Archetypes

One of Jung‘s great insights was his discovery of the energies that ―the gods‖

represent as inner psychological factors, described by Ulanov (1971) as the ―precondi-

tioning structures of the psyche‖ (p. 57) that influence the way we develop, act, and

think. These factors are what Jung called archetypes. While they themselves are invisible

and cannot be directly known, he found that that they can be discovered symbolically

through the representations they produce, the archetypal images and motifs that populate

our dreams, myths, and religious art. In so doing, he also came to recognize that the

images and motifs that we meet in the world‘s mythologies are little different from the

inner images and motifs that meet us in our dreams and imagination. As Jung (1973) put

it, the unconscious ―expresses itself mythologically‖ (p. 526), and its archetypes exhibit

―a kind of readiness to produce over and over the same or similar mythological ideas‖

(1966a, p. 69). Archetypal images and motifs have been similarly described as an

individual‘s ―myth-making process‖ (Hollis, 1995, p. 80).

To Jung the archetype is thus a dynamic and invisible force at work within each

of us, one that we can discover through symbolical expressions, archetypal images, and

motifs. These expressions are metaphors for the inner energies, conflicts, and potentials

that cannot be directly observed, yet influence and shape our lives. They are also like

blueprints that depict our psychological make-up and potential. Von Franz (1995)

identified archetypal energies as ―an inborn disposition‖ or ―inborn tendency‖ towards

psychological development in every individual (p. 15).

Jung‘s (1980) method of interpreting archetypal expressions is through a process

of seeking symbolic parallels. He compared his method to the way philologists decipher
 21

unknown languages, such as Egyptian hieroglyphics, by comparing unknown text

passages to parallel passages in known languages (p. 83). Yet because the archetypes are

only a ―preconditioning structure‖ that needs to be expressed through the psyches of

different individuals, all are articulated in slightly different ways. Even so, each captures

something of the archetype that produced it; through analyzing multiple expressions

created by a common archetype, one can attempt to achieve a better understanding of

these invisible structures that shape our vision and fate from within. At the same time,

Jung also warned that an archetypal representation is its own best interpretation, for it is

the most direct way that the unconscious psyche communicates with us. He stated, ―Myth

is the primordial language natural to these psychic processes, and no intellectual formu-

lation comes anywhere near the richness and expressiveness of mythical imagery‖ (Jung,

1968, p. 25). In other words, we must seek to balance our need to interpret with a respect

for the source material. When there is any discrepancy, the source material is always

right.

Susan Rowland (2008) suggested the following definition for Jung‘s psycho-

logical view of myth: ―One of Jung's main tools ... is the kind of narrative he called

‗myth,‘ by which he meant a collective story capable of facilitating exchanges between

conscious and unconscious parts of the mind‖ (p. 69). Stephen Walker (2002) provided a

similar, yet more expanded, Jungian definition:

From the treasure house of archetypal images are drawn the elements, the
archetypal motifs, of mythology. Whether represented visually, dramati-
cally, musically, or verbally, these motifs are usually found linked in a
sequence, which we call a myth.... Mythology as a whole therefore consti-
tutes a mirror for the collective unconscious, which is the common
psychological basis for all human life (p. 4).
 22

Following Rowland and Walker, a simple psychological definition of myth is a sequence

of archetypal images and motifs through which we may come to know the collective

unconscious. Even so, neither statement captures the power that these factors have over

us, nor explains why knowing what is in the unconscious is so important.

Archetypal images and motifs, and the mythic narratives that contain them, often

combine a great many symbolic contents and forms, but what makes them additionally

hard to interpret is that they also contain cultural additions and elaborations (Walker,

2002; Von Franz, 1990). In order to interpret myths psychologically, a researcher must

learn how to recognize them as they appear in our lives.

Context: Jung’s Personal Myth

Jung came to his realizations about the psychological value of myth based on his

own experience. In 1912 he wrote Symbols of Transformation, a book in which he first

applied a symbolic approach in order to interpret a patient‘s7 visions by comparing the

images and motifs in them to archetypally-related ones from world mythology. Yet it was

only after writing this book that he realized that he did not know the images and motifs

that formed his own ―myth,‖ i.e., the archetypal images and motifs that influenced him

from within. In one of the later introductions to the book, he wrote, ―Hardly had I

finished the manuscript when it struck me what it means to live with a myth and what it

means to live without one‖ (Jung, 1967b, p. xxiv).

By ―what it means to live with a myth,‖ Jung meant that he had realized the

power of one‘s personal myth within one‘s own psyche. Jung had come to believe that

the patient‘s personal myth was responsible for her development of a mental illness

7
Ms. Miller was not a patient of Jung‘s, but a patient of a colleague, Theodore Flournoy, who had
previously published a transcript of her fantasies. Jung performed his interpretation from the published
transcript alone (Jung, 1967b).
 23

(schizophrenia), for it had put her out of balance with the culture in which she lived, as

well as with the needs of her own psyche. By ―what it means to live without one,‖ Jung

was highlighting his important realization of his own state of mythlessness. He had

discovered that he did not believe in the collective myths he could recognize in his

culture, such the Protestant form of Christianity that his father, a rural pastor, followed

and preached. Instead, he realized that he was unconscious of the myths he himself

served, i.e., his relationship to the energies of ―the gods‖ that directly influenced him

from within.

Jung also realized that his insight, valuable as it was, was also only a beginning.

To lose one‘s religious or mythological tradition is to lose one‘s cultural instructions on

how to channel the inner energies that ―the gods‖ represent, in ways that support one‘s

growth and development, as well as provide purpose and meaning. To lose one‘s tradition

also means losing one‘s elders, who may instruct one on how to grow up, who provide a

model to emulate, and who provide emotional support. To realize that one does not know

one‘s own myth is to discover that one has lost one‘s bearings and become unmoored.

After realizing that he did not ascribe to the traditional mythology of his time,

Jung made the discovery of his own personal myth his next task, describing it as a

―confrontation with the unconscious‖ that he found extremely difficult (Jung, 1989, pp.

170-199). As he explained in his autobiography, Memories, Dreams, Reflections (1989):

An incessant stream of fantasies had been released, and I did my best not
to lose my head but to find some way to understand these strange things. I
stood helpless before an alien world … living in a constant state of ten-
sion; often I felt as if gigantic boulders were tumbling down upon me. One
thunderstorm followed another. My enduring these storms was a question
of brute strength. Others have been shattered by them—Nietzsche … and
many others (pp. 176-177).
 24

Yet even though Jung found this task so challenging, he felt somehow compelled to

confront and attempt to understand the fantastic visions that were released. As he ex-

plained, ―When I endured these assaults of the unconscious I had an unswerving

conviction that I was obeying a higher will, and that feeling continued to uphold me until

I mastered the task‖ (p. 177). Or, as he stated in The Red Book (2012), his illustrated

journal outlining his confrontation, ―there are higher things than the ego‘s will, and to

these one must bow‖ (p. 181).

This ―higher will‖ was an inner calling to orient himself to his entire psyche rather

than to his ego alone, and the ―higher things‖ were the archetypal images and motifs that

his unconscious psyche had produced. ―Wider things‖ might be a more helpful way to put

it (Ruhl, personal communication), for, through learning how to bow to this inner will

and attend to these inner things, Jung discovered a means to uncover and incorporate

more of the breadth of his own psyche. He did this through becoming conscious of the

specific images and motifs autonomously produced by his unconscious psyche. Through

this work of identifying the inner archetypal factors of his own personal myth, Jung also

discovered a path and means towards his own psychological development, specifically

one that was not only oriented to his ego, but also aligned with his entire psyche.

Jung thus learned that, just as the world‘s collective myths and religions contain

instructions for our psychological development, our own dreams can contain personal

instructions that may be able to assist our individual psychological growth and healing.

By uncovering these factors within his own psyche and his patients‘ psyches, Jung found

the requisite data on the nature of the psyche upon which he was able to base a new field

of psychology and psychotherapy.

 25

The Myth of Individuation

Through the process of discovering his own personal myth, Jung established a

means through which other individuals could also look within to seek the personal myth

that they unconsciously served, and, through an effort to bring this myth to conscious-

ness, a path that they could follow towards their own psychological development and

greater psychic wholeness. Jung (1971) called this process of orienting oneself towards

one‘s whole psyche individuation, through which one learned to become more of the

individual one already was and more ―distinct from the general, collective psychology‖

of our culture (p. 448). While not all individuals may be called to the task of indivi-

duation, for those who are the individuation process contains their full potential for

psychological development. Thus individuation could be considered the ultimate goal of

Jungian analysis.

Individuation is, indeed, a metaphor for the developmental task of our psyche

working towards its wholeness. It has been called a new myth for our time (Edinger,

1984). Similarly, Jung‘s and many Jungians‘ reinterpretation of myths and fairy tales into

new psychological narratives has been described as a new form of mythology in itself

(von Franz, 1996). Hillman (1972), for instance, identified Jungian psychotherapy as a

―myth of analysis‖ in the title of one of his books. Yet even if individuation can be called

such, Jung chose not to reify it into a systemized series of images and teachings, as one of

the world‘s collective religions might have done, for he believed that we are, as the term

individuation suggests, individual. We each have an individual path that requires unique

interpretations.
 26

In sum, through its focus on an individual path and individual method, individu-

ation has much in common with the focus of the mystics of all religious traditions who

have sought a direct awareness of, and relationship to, their gods. Yet instead of inter-

preting the gods metaphysically, as something transpersonal or ―out there,‖ Jung

interpreted them psychologically, as ultimately individual and idiosyncratic, or ―in here.‖

Individuation thus seeks to know ―the gods‖ as factors within our own psyche,

factors whose image is instigated and governed by the archetypes of the collective uncon-

scious, but whose specific collection of images and motifs has personal meaning. Instead

of encouraging us to view individuation as an outer myth to serve, Jung urged us to

attempt to use what could be called a ―mythic‖ vision in order to uncover our personal

relationship with those energies that populate our inner lives; moreover, we were to use

this vision to witness ―the gods‖ wherever they appeared, without or within, in old bottles

or new. Thus, as Jung‘s quote from the oracle reminded all who passed under it, and

continues to instruct us all now if we so choose, ―the gods‖ are still very much present,

and we all have the opportunity to seek them wherever they appear. Hollis (2004)

summed this up well:

The gods do not die—they depart the image and go into the underworld
for a while and reinvest elsewhere. During these interregna, such as we
inhabit presently, we are still gripped by these energies even if we fail to
render those images which bewitch or inspire us conscious. The gods are
the energies which drive the universe, and the individual, and are personi-
fied through images which temporarily embody in soma, mind, affect, and
personal and collective history. The true psychotherapy, or attendance
upon the soul, requires reading through the image to the energies which
drive it (pp. 15-16).

Put simply, the energies of the gods are always re-emerging in new images and

motifs, and if we want to heal and become whole, through using Jung‘s method of
 27

interpretation we can attempt to read and understand their instructions for us. Because we

respond to these images and motifs, there are aspects of them within us already that will

grip us emotionally, or with value and meaning. In either case, we attempt to read, as

Hollis stated, ―through the image‖ to seek to discover what Jung (2008) called ―the piece

of mythology‖ that it carries for us (p. 28).

Joseph Campbell’s Four Functions of Myth

There are many different ways to approach myth. In Theorizing about Myth,

Robert Segal (1999) explained that theories about myth can answer three questions: what

is a myth‘s subject matter, what is its origin, and what is its function? He noted that,

while many theories answer only one or two of these questions, Jung‘s ―is one of the few

theories that answer all three‖ (p. 67). According to Segal, in Jung‘s theory ―the subject

matter is not literal but symbolic: not the external world but the human mind‖; he added

that Jung believed that ―myth originates and functions to satisfy the psychological need

for contact with the unconscious‖ (p. 67). In other words, much like the definition

provided by Rowland and Walker, Jung believed that the role of myth is to provide a

mirror through which to discover and witness the symbolic manifestations of the

unconscious, and more importantly, that this mirroring serves a psychological need.

While other psychologies suggest a critical need for people to have relationships in the

external world, Jung believed that a relationship to the inner world of one‘s unconscious

is equally important. Because the unconscious could be said to communicate in mytho-

logical symbols, myths form a potential bridge between the disparate halves of each

individual‘s psyche, helping to reconcile one‘s consciousness with the needs of one‘s

whole being.
 28

Jung separated mythology into two types, one collective and one individual (or

personal), that he described in The Red Book (2009) as the ―spirit of the times‖ and the

―spirit of the depths‖ (p. 229). He used ―spirit of the times‖ to describe the subjective

matrix within which all individuals within a culture are embedded. Because we are just as

much in our cultural matrix as, to use the well worn but descriptive cliché, a fish is in

water, it is not easy to spot its influence or recognize its effect upon us. For example, we

might have a more difficult time seeing the propaganda that is playing out upon the world

stage today than we might have to recognize the propaganda from the time of the Viet-

nam war or the Cold War nearly half a century ago. The ―spirit of the depths‖ describes

the individual matrix within each of us, a combination of our genetic inheritance, our

specific experiences, and what has been called our ―unique constellation of archetypal

mythologems‖ (Ulanov, 1972, p. 57). A mythological example of this can be found in the

Roman twins Romulus and Remus. Even though both brothers shared the same upbring-

ing, culture, and genes, both were ultimately internally drawn towards their own unique

goals and fates.

Joseph Campbell (1968) similarly divided mythology into what he called a ―tradi-

tional‖ mythology containing the symbols and socially maintained rites of the collective

culture, and a ―creative‖ mythology through which individuals can discover and experi-

ence the symbols of their own natures (p. 4). Campbell (1964) ascribed the former to the

teachers and followers of traditional religions, while he related the latter to the poets and

artists who channeled the same archetypal material into their creative projects. Of course,

this division is not absolute; religious artists and creative monks and mystics have done,
 29

and continue to do, both, a fact to which many of the world‘s works of art and

illuminated manuscripts attest.

Another way to approach myths is by considering the functions they serve.

Campbell (1964) described four different functions of myth, the first of which is ―elicit-

ing and supporting a sense of awe at the mystery of being‖ (p. 519). In other words,

myths that play this role epitomize a religious function. Following Jung, Campbell used

Otto‘s term numinous to describe the effect that archetypal energies can have within us,

an inner resonance that can reach from ―demonic dread‖ to ―mystical rapture‖ (p. 519).

Campbell described the numinous as a subjective experience attending all encounters one

has with ―symbols of a living myth‖ (p. 519), one that ―cannot be invented‖ and ―must be

found‖ (p. 519). Although the archetypal triggers of such experiences, and the experi-

ences themselves, are different for all individuals, we can all potentially experience them

in, for example, the hair prickling on our backs when we read a particularly moving

passage. In all such times when we have been thus moved we have discovered and

experienced something of what Campbell meant by a ―living myth.‖

Campbell‘s (1964) second function of myth is to ―render a cosmology,‖ which

provides an ―image of the universe‖ that one inhabits (p. 519). Put another way, myths

that play this role provide what could be called a grounding function, or a sense of

meaning, to one‘s existence. In traditional mythologies, myths that serve a grounding

function can take the form of creation myths that explain where one, and one‘s social

group, comes from. The Christian creation myth, for example, describes the creation of

the universe, Earth, and Eden, populating the latter with the first humans, Adam and Eve.

Finally, it tells of their fateful meeting with serpent and apple that resulted in both
 30

consciousness and shameful banishment. For many secular individuals today, this myth

has largely been replaced with the creation myth of a ―Big Bang,‖ Darwinian evolution,

Chaos, or any other of the evolving theories of physics and natural sciences that may

come into vogue.

Campbell‘s third function of myth is to ―support the current social order‖ (p. 520)

and to provide ―enforcement of a moral order‘ (1968, p. 4). Myths that play this function

define the social roles of a culture and provide instructions on how to transition to or

between them, such as initiation ceremonies and ―rites of passage‖ (van Gannep, 1960, p.

10). They provide a collective function that transmits the cultural standards, hierarchies,

and rules that its members are expected to know and follow. This third function of myth

is conveyed symbolically in the pomp and circumstance that accompany individuals as

they march to war, walk up the wedding aisle, or attend graduation ceremonies. It is

illuminated in the Greek and Roman architectural style and flourishes that adorn capital

buildings, legislatures, and university campuses even today, symbolically connecting us

to the cultures of our forebears. It is also reflected in the traditions, practices, and beliefs

of countless religions, societies, clubs, and communities that express this function.

The fourth function of myth, according to Campbell (1964), is to ―initiate the

individual into the order of realities of his own psyche, guiding him to his own spiritual

enrichment and realization‖ (p. 521). In Jungian terms, myths that serve this function

contain the instructions for one‘s individuation, i.e., for the realization of one‘s psyche‘s

developmental potential and its return to wholeness. These lessons never come easy, for

they often pit one against one‘s cultural norms and traditions. Even so, they do not just

play a necessary role through which one can realize one‘s own potential: individuals who
 31

pursue them play a vital part in society. Maslow (1969) termed these people ―self-

actualizing‖ individuals, many of whom perform an essential role at what he called the

―growing tips‖ of a culture (p. 5). They are the ones brave enough to step off the beaten

path of traditional cultural expectations, in order to discover a new adaptation, a new way

to live, that better reflects the whole of their psyche and soul.

A Psychological Definition of Myth

Myths, and narratives that contain mythic elements, can be found not only in the

products of the outer world that make up the world‘s mythologies and religions, but also

in the dreams and the fruits of one‘s imagination. Common to all, as Campbell‘s first

function of myth observes, is a numinous quality. It is through being gripped by the

numinous that we are able to discover mythic elements, for anything that resonates within

must be also be projecting the content of one‘s inner psyche without. Campbell‘s first

function of myth, therefore, attends all encounters with a myth that is truly ―living‖

(Campbell, p. 519). Identifying one‘s personal myth or the collective myth of one‘s

culture is thus a recognition of, and an attention to, the numinous.

Combining, and slightly adapting, the psychological definitions provided by Jung,

Campbell, and Walker, this dissertation uses the term myth to describe any sequence of

archetypal images and motifs that meet Campbell‘s first two functions of myth. In other

words, myths are experienced as both numinous and meaningful. This paper also uses the

term based on Campbell‘s third and fourth functions, i.e., that myths need to help us

recognize and learn something of the cultural legends in which we are all embedded;

furthermore, they should contain information to help us initiate ourselves into the

mysteries and broader perspectives of our own, and our entire, psyches. Even though
 32

Campbell‘s schema could be said to imply that only the archetypal narratives that capture

all four functions are fully deserving of the term myth, for the psychological purposes of

this dissertation I use the term when it captures either or both of Campbell‘s third or

fourth functions. That is, I generally call any collection of archetypal contents that relate

directly to the psychological task of individuation a myth.

Myth as Method

Emphasizing a psychological conception of myth is, of course, only one of the

potential ways to apply Jungian theory, but it is one that is well suited to the purpose of

this dissertation. Just as Jung used myth as a source for discovering and grounding his

psychology and his conception of individuation, as well as a lens through which to

understand and interpret his own and his patients‘ dreams, I similarly use myth as both a

dataset and a ―lens.‖ This dissertation can, therefore, be seen as an attempt to use the film

Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) as a dataset through which to capture another myth of

individuation, one that may provide more relevant instructions for psychological develop-

ment in our time.

In line with Campbell‘s description of the functions of myth, this dissertation

specifically seeks to uncover aspects of his fourth function of myth—that is, those factors

that capture and communicate information that relate to one‘s own individuation process

that help initiate one into a deeper realization of one‘s own psyche. It also seeks to

uncover aspects of Campbell‘s third function of myth, namely, those factors that serve

society by suggesting collective roles and the means of transitioning towards them.

Hollis (1995) described four ―approaches to myth‖ that are relevant to any

research method that seeks to discover a contemporary myth of individuation: psycho-

 33

logical, archetypal, phenomenological, and symbolic (pp. 17-22). Researchers can

approach myths as narratives that describe something of our inner, subjective, psycho-

logical nature, rather than just objective reality, and show how we share psychological

similarities. Myths also show our likenesses through archetypal representations: we

collectively and unconsciously impose similar patterns onto all we encounter due to our

archetypal natures, and these universal factors populate myths with common motifs and

images. People also experience myths phenomenologically through ―gut‖ feelings, or

otherwise resonant intuitions that they feel within themselves (Hollis, 1995, p. 22;

Woodman, 1993, p. 14). In other words, we experience myths not only in the abstract

thoughts of our minds, but also in a more direct, related means through our bodies.

Finally, we also experience, and can seek to understand, myths symbolically, for the

universal factors of myths all point towards something just beyond the known, helping to

illuminate related symbols. Hollis stated that ―mythic images can help us approach to the

mysteries‖ (p. 23); thus, by interpreting their symbols we have a ―way of talking about

the ineffable‖ (p. 23).

This dissertation endeavors to uncover something of the unconscious myths we all

serve, the transpersonal factors that color what we see and directly experience and uncon-

sciously influence our decisions and our lives. It is an attempt to discover and better

understand a part of Jung‘s myth of individuation in order to provide instructions towards

our psyches‘ growth and return to wholeness. To the extent that this research is success-

ful, we may be able to recognize something in ourselves that we may not have previously

known, thereby having a greater potential to further our own, and our culture‘s, healthy

development.
 34

Overview of Jungian Theory

Even in terms of psychologies of the 20th century, Jungian psychology is particu-

larly broad-ranging. This is partly because its founder was a prolific writer, lecturer, and

teacher, expounding on topics that stretched from psychological theory and psycho-

therapy to religion and world events. It is also because he never stopped working until his

final year at 85 years of age. Jung‘s twenty-volume set of collected works is considered

to cover only approximately half of his scholarly output (Taylor, personal communica-

tion, August 28, 2010); some works, like his recently published Children‟s Dreams

(2008) seminars and The Red Book (2009), are still being released for the first time. This

literature review does not attempt to provide a summary of the breadth of Jung‘s theoret-

ical ideas, let alone a century of Jungians that either followed in his footsteps or went in

new directions of their own. Rather, its goal is to summarize enough of the basic Jungian

theory that underlies the topics of this dissertation in order to provide a foundation for a

psychological interpretation of Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) and its application to the

problem of individuation in our time.

Most of this theoretical review is not particularly controversial among Jungians,

because it largely focuses on topics that are basic to Jungian psychology. It also tends to

concentrate on Jung‘s own viewpoints, except where other theorists have added new

insights, greater specificity, more up-to-date information, or a valuable critique. Within

the Jungian community, the individuals who follow Jung‘s own perspective most closely

are often identified as having a ―classical Jungian‖ perspective.8 This includes all of the

individuals who practiced during Jung‘s lifetime, many of whom were trained by Jung

8
See J. A. Hall‘s essay, ―The Classical Jungian Tradition,‖ pp. 97-107, in J. A Hall & D. Sharp, (Eds.),
(2008), Marie-Louise von Franz: The classic Jungian and the classic Jungian tradition, Toronto, Canada:
Inner City Books.
 35

himself, as well as those considered to follow closely his theory and methods. Other

Jungians sometimes identify themselves with different perspectives that began with some

of Jung‘s followers, such as the ―archetypal‖ school in the United States initiated by

James Hillman, or the ―developmental‖ school started in London by Michael Fordham

(Samuels, 1985, p. 13). This dissertation mostly follows the theory and methods laid out

by Jung himself—that is, a classical Jungian approach. Even though a discussion of other

Jungian perspectives might have elicited additional relevant information, due to my

interest in keeping the discussion narrowly focused, they are not systematically addressed

or discussed here.

It is important also to begin by noting that Jungian psychology is a system of

metaphors. We cannot directly observe the unconscious, but only its manifestations such

as dreams and visions, and its effects such as moods and behaviors. While there have

been great advances in brain research and depth psychology, the psychologies that posit

the existence of an unconscious part of the psyche are still in much the same position

chemistry was in before the invention of the microscope. Jung was keenly aware of the

limitations of his theories, admitting that that they were only the best metaphors he had

on hand to understand and explain the inner workings of the psyche at the time. Not

surprisingly, he substantially revised many of his works throughout his life, hoping that

his theories would continue to be improved by others even after his death.

Not only did Jung describe the form in which the unconscious communicates as a

kind of ―myth,‖ but his whole psychological theory could be called a myth. Jungian

psychology might be characterized as something of a necessary fiction to explain things

that are beyond our conscious grasp. At the same time, it could also be considered an
 36

essential fiction, for it provides us with a metaphorical system through which to under-

stand and work with an aspect of ourselves that has a significant effect on us. We need

such a system, because our ego consciousness can be taken over by the contents of our

unconscious. Such a system can also allow us to learn something about our inner selves.

This can potentially free us from endless cycles of repetition, for, as Jung explained, ―The

psychological rule says that when an inner situation is not made conscious, it happens

outside as fate‖ (Jung, 1969a, p. 71).

Because of issues of content and quantity, Jung has sometimes been criticized for

the difficulties experienced by others in grasping his psychological system. This theoreti-

cal section does not attempt to capture the breadth or depth of Jung‘s theories, nor the

substantial revisions, changes, and additions to it that have occurred over time. Rather, it

hopes only to capture the Jungian theory that can provide something of a base upon

which to ground the discussion that follows.

Consciousness and Individuation

Jung believed that all individuals are born with psyches that are unconsciously

identified and merged with their surroundings, especially their main caregivers. Follow-

ing Lévy-Bruhl, Jung (1971) called this original state of undifferentiation participation

mystique (p. 456), for individuals live in it as if in a mystical participation with all that is

within and without.

Just as our early ancestors had to learn to separate and differentiate themselves

from their unconscious identification with their immediate surroundings, so Jung (1969a)

believed that all individuals are still similarly required to forge a distinct, independent

identity, and that this task is synonymous with the development of consciousness. Yet
 37

Jung (1969b) also believed that the development of consciousness causes a rift to form

within each individual‘s psyche between that which is conscious and that which is uncon-

scious, and that these parts form ―two incongruous halves which together should form a

whole‖ (p. 278). Individuation thus describes the process through which individuals can

endeavor to bring the contents of the unconscious into consciousness and thereby reunite,

and make whole, their psyches. As Jung defined it, individuation is a process through

which ―a person becomes psychologically ‗individual,‘ that is, a separate, indivisible

unity or ‗whole‘‖ (p. 275), through attempting to reach a ―possible synthesis of conscious

and unconscious elements‖ (p. 181).

While the development of consciousness has obvious benefits for humankind and

individuals, Jung realized that it also creates a developmental problem. The growth of a

part of the psyche that is conscious concomitantly creates a part that is unconscious.

Through the development of consciousness a rift is formed between the two parts, and the

psyche becomes divided. This division takes place autonomously within each individual

during early childhood; by the time individuals have gained enough consciousness to

become self-aware, i.e., to have formed an independent identity that can reflect upon

itself, they have already become separated from a part of their own nature.

From the perspective of the ego, only that which is conscious is visible. As Jung

(1969c) described this most simply, ―The unconscious really is unconscious; in other

words, it is unknown‖ (p. 278). This is a problem for us, because, if a part of us is un-

known, we cannot recognize its effect upon us. One of the ways that the unconscious

shapes us is through what Jung called a possession, in which an aspect of the unconscious

can overwhelm, and wrest control away from, our ego, much like the fictional account of
 38

the unconscious possession of Dr. Jekyll by Mr. Hyde. Another is through projection, in

which one ascribes qualities of one‘s own to others, such as when the German Nazis

scapegoated the Jewish people and all the others upon whom they projected their

negative qualities.

Jung (1966a) believed that it is this ―discrepancy between the conscious attitude

and the trend of the unconscious‖ that is the root of psychological problems and the cause

of neuroses (p. 20). As Jung explained:

As long as we are still submerged in nature we are unconscious, and we

live in the security of instinct which knows no problems. Everything in us
that still belongs to nature shrinks away from a problem, for its name is
doubt, and wherever doubt holds sway there is uncertainty and the possi-
bility of divergent ways. And where several ways seem possible, there we
have turned away from the certain guidance of instinct and are handed
over to fear. For consciousness is now called upon to do that which nature
has always done for her children—namely, to give a certain, unquestion-
able, and unequivocal decision (1969, CW8, p. 388).

Jung thus realized that one of the side effects of the development of consciousness is the

creation of doubt and fear; he realized that this can trigger unconscious complexes that

can affect and even overtake the ego. He also realized that, just as we collectively turned

away from the guidance of instinct through the development of consciousness, we can

also just as easily turn away from the guidance of consciousness through psychological

defense mechanisms such as dissociation. Jung acknowledged that many of our contem-

porary anxieties and fears also come from continuing divisions between our conscious

mind and our unconscious. Or, put another way, even though humankind has developed

the capacity for consciousness, that does not mean that individuals choose to, or even

know how to, live conscious lives.

 39

Complexes and Archetypes

Jung (1966a) described the unconscious as having two parts, a personal uncon-

scious and a collective unconscious (p. 66). The personal unconscious is made up of

contents called complexes. A complex is an emotionally charged content of the uncon-

scious that can act autonomously, like a splinter psyche. Jung believed that the ego itself

is also a complex, but a complex that, through access to one‘s will and executive func-

tion, is usually in charge. When a complex is triggered, it floods the ego with its strong

emotional response, potentially overwhelming the ego and even temporarily possessing it

(Jung, 1969c, p. 96).

All individuals have complexes, but Jung (1966b) believed that complexes only

become a problem when an individual does not believe they exist (p. 79). Jung (1969b)

called complexes ―splinter psyches‖ for their ability to take over consciousness (p. 98);

unlike the ego, however, they have no consciousness of their own but remain forever

trapped in the same scripts. Complexes develop out of the experiences of individuals

since they were born (Hollis, 1994, p. 29), specifically through what Jung described as

―clashes‖ between a person‘s individual disposition and reality. Jung (1966b) believed

that trauma can cause a ―splinter‖ of the psyche to be split off, i.e., dissociated, into the

unconscious (p. 98), where it is then repressed along with the emotions associated with

the original trauma. There the complex remains until it is triggered; at that point it brings

the long repressed emotion along with it and floods the ego. Thus one way to recognize a

complex is through its strong emotional charge.

When a complex is constellated, it results in what Jung (1969c) called ―a dis-

turbed state of consciousness‖ (p. 96). As he explained, ―Everyone knows nowadays that
 40

people ‗have complexes.‘ What is not so well known, though far more important

theoretically, is that complexes can have us‖ (p. 96, italics his). Jung believed that

complexes were so important to his psychological theory that he originally called it

―Complex Psychology‖ (Douglas, 2011, p. 114)

The collective unconscious, which is older than our consciousness (Jung, 2008, p.

7), is formed of archetypes that are common to all people (1966a, p. 138). Archetypes are

elements that structure and instigate psychic processes and images, which Jung (1966a)

described as the oldest ―thought patterns‖ of the psyche (p. 138). He (2008) defined them

as ―the hidden treasure upon which mankind ever and anon has drawn, and from which it

has raised up its gods and demons, and all those potent and mighty thoughts without

which man ceases to be man‖ (p. 67). Archetypes are like structural blueprints for

psychic factors, much as DNA provides blueprints for biological factors. It is because of

archetypes that similarities occur between the images and motifs of religions, myths, and

art of different cultures and times. Due to their transpersonal nature, Jung called the part

of the unconscious where they reside collective.

While archetypes are invisible and, therefore, not directly knowable, the products

they create can potentially be met every night in one‘s dreams through their images and

motifs. Even so, recognizing all the potential manifestations that archetypes can take is

difficult because of the infinite variability in the products they can form. Yet recognizing

them is necessary psychological work, for as Jung (1969c) stated, ―the archetype is pure,

unvitiated nature, and it is nature that causes man to utter words and perform actions

whose meaning is unconscious to him, so unconscious that he no longer gives it a

thought‖ (p. 210). Archetypal products, while unconscious, are also the contents of our
 41

psyche, thus somehow familiar to us. If we are possessed by an archetype, we may not

recognize its presence until after it releases us, if at all.

To confuse matters further, Jung conceived of complexes and archetypes as

internally linked. He believed that complexes form when emotionally charged personal

histories and traumas coalesce around an ―archetypal core‖ (Ulanov, 1972, p. 37). In

order to uncover the transpersonal archetypal core within each complex, one must come

to recognize its personal material as well. In Jungian psychotherapy, or analysis, this is

colloquially called ―doing one‘s personal work.‖ This personal, or shadow, work means

experiencing often unpleasant emotions and memories; it is, therefore, work that requires

both courage and determination. Indeed, all psychological growth ultimately takes both,

for any expansion of consciousness requires one to dismantle the false sense of security

that comes from the ego‘s belief that it is the psyche, and that it is thus in charge of its

psychic house. Jung (1970b) described the meeting with the archetype of wholeness

within, the ―God‖ to the ―inner gods,‖ if you will, which he called the Self,9 as ―always a

defeat for the ego‖ (p. 546).

While individuation can be a conscious process and goal, it is also driven by the

psyche towards its own healing and return to wholeness. The archetypal images in

dreams are often prompted by the psyche as a self-regulating response to the problems

that burden it, with Jung (2008) even suggesting that they might be the psyche‘s way of

healing its own complexes (p. 381). Jung used the term compensation for the specific

aspect of dreams that works to solve the problems of consciousness and regulate the

psyche. A fitting analogy for compensation is the Chinese concept of Tao, for, if our ego-

consciousness is aligned with our unconscious, if we are directly on our psyche‘s path,
9
Jung does not always capitalize the term Self, but for consistency I am capitalizing it throughout.
 42

then our dreams would not need to compensate for our conscious position. But to the

extent that our ego has come out of balance with the rest of our psyche, it will trigger the

psyche‘s self-regulating function and produce compensatory dreams.

Archetypal images and motifs, and the mythic narratives that combine them,

could thus be said to hold our instructions for life. As Jung explained this:

During sleep … we find the helpful archetype, always there, in every

dangerous situation. We find a way out because the archetype is that form
of the process that makes the eternal melody of life possible; it blends
methodically into a solution…. When somebody reaches the archetype in
a dream, he has, so to speak, found the treasure, the key with which the
closed door can then be opened, or a magic with which the dangerous
situation can be exorcised (2008, p. 163).

The instructions that archetypes provide not only form the basis of Jung‘s work with

dreams with individual patients, but also describe the reason why we seek, and find

resonance with, the archetypal images that populate myths and religions, art, and

literature.

The Problem of the Shadow

Jung‘s concept of the shadow includes all those aspects of ourselves that we

loathe or otherwise do not wish to know, and that we repress or suppress into our uncon-

scious. As Jung (1969a) described it, ―the shadow personifies everything that the subject

refuses to acknowledge about himself and yet is always thrusting itself upon him directly

or indirectly—for instance, inferior traits of character and other incompatible tendencies‖

(pp. 284-285). Jung called the part of the shadow that is idiosyncratic to ourselves our

personal shadow, referring to all of the contents in what he called our personal

unconscious.
 43

The collective shadow differs from our personal shadow only in that it is the blind

spot of whole nations rather than individuals; its main difference is in the potential scope

of its effect. Instead of meeting the recipient of our personal shadow projections indivi-

dually in our neighbor on the other side of the fence, or in our spouse across the room, we

are swept up in mass movements and meet them at collective scales. As Jung (1970a)

described our collective shadow and the reason for confronting it:

None of us stands outside humanity‘s black collective shadow. Whether

the crime lies many generations back or happens today, it remains the
symptom of a disposition that is always and everywhere present—and
one would therefore do well to possess some ―imagination in evil,‖ for
only the fool can permanently neglect the conditions of his own nature. In
fact, this negligence is the best means of making him an instrument of
evil‖ (p. 297).

Jung believed that discovering what is in our shadow, whether personal or collec-

tive, is necessary for psychological health; as he put it, ―in every treatment of neurosis the

discovery of the shadow is indispensable, otherwise nothing changes‖ (p. 216). In the

blind spot of our shadow are all the conditions of our own nature that we do not want to

accept; it is up to each of us to decide whether these conditions will live conscious or

unconscious lives. If we allow our shadow to be unconscious, we are forced to meet it in

our dreams and through our projections upon those around us, and thus to live it as fate.

As Jung (1970a) described the loathsome task of recognizing on our own shadow:

The evil, the guilt, the profound unease of conscience, the obscure misgiv-
ing are there before our eyes, if only we would see. Man has done these
things; I am a man, who has his share of human nature; therefore I am
guilty with the rest and bear unaltered and indelibly within me the capacity
and the inclination to do them again at any time. Even if, juristically
speaking, we were not accessories to the crime, we are always, thanks to
our human nature, potential criminals. In reality we merely lacked a suit-
able opportunity to be drawn into the infernal melee (pp. 296-297).
 44

Even though recognizing our own shadows is difficult, each has its source within and,

therefore, gives us an opportunity to discover an unconscious aspect of our own psyche if

only we choose to look. Yet while our personal shadows, and the collective shadow of

the culture within which we live, make us all either criminals or potential criminals, the

greatest harm we do is by attempting to repress them. What we repress and suppress into

our shadow are parts of ourselves that we are not living; probably our greatest sin vis-à-

vis our own psychological development is that in the process we end up living lives

against our own nature, and indeed against nature as a whole.

Soul and Contrasexuality

Jungian psychology has been called a ―psychology of soul‖ (Hillman, 1983, p.

32). Jung lamented that the mission of the Christian church, and all organized religions,

should be ―the salvation of the individual soul‖ (p. 276, italics his). Yet Jung (1970a)

believed that the church has failed us by becoming an organization that supports our

collective culture at the expense of our inner selves. While Jung stated that ―belief is no

adequate substitute for inner experience‖ (p. 265), he believed that, in the church, ―too

much soul is reserved for God, too little for man‖ (p. 132). Jung believed that the source

of religions and mythology is in the archetypes of the collective unconscious (p. 293),

i.e., the ―religious function‖ within one‘s own psyche (1971, p. 319), adding that the role

of the church should be to help individuals have a religious attitude towards, and relation-

ship with, their own inner source of ―the gods.‖ It could be said that it is only because

traditional religions do not fully meet this need for all individuals that Jung‘s psycho-

logical theory and analysis have value and use.

 45

Not surprisingly, Jung used the term ―soul‖ differently from the Christian church.

In Jungian terms, and as Hollis (2005) defined it, soul ―is simply the word for our intuited

sense that is other than the ego, larger than the ego, and sometimes in conflict with the

ego. The soul is the archetype of meaning and the agent of organic wholeness‖ (p. 253).

The soul could be described as that aspect within us that resonates with numinous emo-

tion and inner meaning, thereby meeting Campbell‘s first and second functions of myth,

as noted above.

To Jung the soul is also a ―functional complex‖ that we all meet within (1971, p.

463), an ―inner attitude‖ (p. 463) within our unconscious that has ―the character of

personality‖ (1970a, p. 42). In men it is called the anima, representing the ―archetypally

feminine‖ part of the personality, while in women it is called the animus, representing the

archetypally masculine aspect of the personality (Neumann, 1996, p. 66). Both are sym-

bolic figures that one may meet in dreams as what Jung called one‘s soul-image, yet both

are also archetypal powers that can come into conflict with the ego, specifically with the

mask of adaptation donned by the ego in order to fit into the culture, the persona. As

Neumann (1996) described, both are occasioned by difficulty, for it is only from the

ego‘s capitulation of ―its defensive position‖ against these inner figures that one can find

―a new way of living and of overcoming fear‖ (p. 277).

Another, more general, terminology that Jung used to discuss each of our mascu-

line or feminine natures involves Logos and Eros. Jung (1970b) stated that he equated

―the masculine consciousness with that of Logos, and the feminine with that of Eros‖ (p.

179), noting that ―by Logos I mean discrimination, judgment, insight, and by Eros I mean
 46

the capacity to relate‖ (p. 179). 10 Yet unlike anima and animus, the terms Eros and Logos

do not describe functional complexes within our unconscious, but dynamic functions that

describe the way individuals are oriented in their consciousness or their unconscious.

Unfortunately, even though Jung (1970a) believed that men and women both have a

contrasexual aspect of themselves, he sometimes ascribed Logos to men and Eros to

women (p. 123). We can easily correct this allocation, if we instead limit both Eros and

Logos to describing only the feminine or masculine, whether in individual men or

women. In this way, Logos, for example, can be said to describe the dominant factor in

masculine consciousness; by extension, it can be used to describe the consciousness of a

patriarchal culture such as our own.

Neumann (1996) described matriarchal consciousness as the ―culture-building

level operative at the dawn of human history‖ that resides in the unconscious (p. 66). To

Neumann, matriarchal consciousness directs its energies towards a content, and con-

sciousness participates in the content emotionally (p. 66), while patriarchal consciousness

―distances and abstracts itself from the content‖ (p. 105). Put simply, matriarchal con-

sciousness builds relationships and becomes involved, while patriarchal consciousness

severs and dissects.

Jung saw great need for a feminine consciousness in our time. He stated:

Today religion leads back to the Middle Ages, back to that soul-destroying
unrelatedness from which came all the barbarities of war ... it is the func-
tion of Eros to unite what Logos had sundered. The woman of today is

10
Jung (1970a) later regretted that neither Eros or Logos could be ―defined accurately or exhaustively‖ (p.
179), adding that, within different individuals, exceptions exist in which the consciousness of men can be
ruled by Eros and the consciousness of women by Logos (p. 180). Yet for each of us, while our conscious-
ness can be ruled by either Logos or Eros, our unconscious is thereby ruled by its opposite, in which case it
is called anima or animus (1970b, p. 180).
 47

faced with a tremendous cultural task—perhaps it will be the dawn of a

new era (1970a, p. 133).

It is the job of Eros to unite, because it heals through forging relationships, while Logos

sunders in order to discriminate in service to building consciousness. While this is clear,

unfortunately Jung again ascribed the role of Eros only to women rather than to the fem-

inine within us all. It, too, would have better fit his theory of the contrasexual nature

within all individuals if he had ascribed this necessary cultural task to the feminine in our

selves, whether found in individual women or in individual men.

Psychological Development

Jung (1969d) used the term individuation to describe the step of psychological

development that usually occurs at midlife, at approximately 35 to 40 years of age, if it

occurs at all (p. 351). Jung believed that individuals psychologically develop through

three stages. We are each born into the world with whole psyches, i.e., with no separa-

tion between the conscious and the unconscious. Following Lévy-Bruhl, Jung (1966a)

called this first stage participation mystique, or an unconscious identification with the

collective (p. 206). Jung (1969b) did not believe this state to be an ―enviable existence,‖

but instead an existence ―tormented by superstitions, fears, and compulsions‖ (p. 50). He

insisted that, as one grows through childhood, one begins to develop ―islands of con-

sciousness‖ that form the beginnings of an independent ego (p. 390). Until puberty, Jung

stated that it is as though ―the child itself is still wholly … enclosed in the psychic atmo-

sphere of its parents,‖ and, within this atmosphere, is ―governed largely by instinct‖ (p.

391).

Jung (1969b) saw the task of the second stage of life as one of leaving home and

adapting oneself to the external world, calling this stage the ―first half of life‖ (p. 120).
 48

He (1969b) described this as akin to a ―psychic revolution‖ (p. 391) in which one is

required to focus one‘s ego upon such tasks as ―the development of the individual, our

entrenchment in the outer world, the propagation of our kind, and the care of our

children‖ (p. 399). These tasks force one to make compromises in order to adapt oneself

to the collective world and to ―win for oneself a place in society‖ (p. 394). Adapting

oneself in this way requires one to give up the participation mystique of childhood and

develop a persona, i.e., a false identity that one wears like a mask with which to meet the

world. Jung (1969a) described the persona as a necessary identity, for it is an ―indivi-

dual‘s system of adaptation to, or the manner he assumes in dealing with, the world‖ (p.

122). Thus he defined it as ―that which in reality one is not, but which oneself and others

think one is‖ (p. 123).

Jung saw the third stage of life as another kind of psychic revolution, an adapta-

tion to inner, rather than outer, directives. Jung (1969b) called this stage ―the second half

of life,‖ for it usually occurs in midlife, if at all (p. 199). Rather than aligning oneself

with one‘s culture, this stage requires one to become an individual who is ―distinct from

the general, collective psychology‖ (Jung, 1971, p. 448), instead aligning oneself with

one‘s own psyche. Yet it, too, comes at a significant cost; just as the goal of the second

stage, or first half of life, was to give up a naïve unconsciousness in order to gain an

individual ego and persona, this third stage, or second half of life, requires the capitu-

lation of both in order to follow inner directives. These directives come, as described

above, through the psyche‘s production of archetypal images and motifs that appear

internally in dreams and imagination, or externally through those individuals and objects

that hold one‘s projections.

 49

The third stage of life, the process of bringing the ego into conscious relationship

with the whole psyche, is what is usually described as the individuation process by both

Jung and many Jungians. At the same time, some Jungians, such as Johnson (1986), see

individuation as more of ―a lifelong process,‖ for all three stages can be seen as part of

the necessary development of consciousness. I agree with Johnson‘s position, for becom-

ing truly individual requires all of the following: that we gradually develop a strong

enough ego during childhood; that an external movement of ego separate us from our

family of origin in order to adapt to the world in which we live; and that we experience

an internal movement towards the reconciling and balancing of our ego with our entire

psyche, i.e., by seeking our own depths. At the same time, I also agree with Jung that the

direct work of becoming psychically whole begins only at the third stage in the process.

When, and only when, this third stage occurs, does one truly have the opportunity to

become, and indeed return to being, psychically whole, i.e., the full individual one was

born to be.

While development through each stage is probably necessary for any real indivi-

duation to occur in one‘s life, a ―second half of life‖ experience could occur within a

wide range of ages. It really does not matter when an opportunity to become more inte-

grated with one‘s own psyche occurs in one‘s life—whether, like Parsifal, one may have

an opportunity to step early into the Grail castle, or whether, also like Parsifal, one may

return to the Grail castle later. I therefore use the term individuation to describe both.

Like Johnson, I use it do describe all stages in development, for all are necessary steps

along any journey towards wholeness. At the same time, I also use individuation, as does
 50

Jung, to describe the concept of the specific development of, and indeed the return to,

psychic wholeness.

Psychological development and consciousness. To the extent that one does not

know one‘s shadow, anima or animus, or other personal and collective aspects of one‘s

unconscious, one projects it. Through projection individuals force their unacknowledged

or unknown aspects onto others, including all that they do not want to accept about them-

selves, thereby contaminating their relationships with their own unlived life in the

process. For example, those upon whom one unconsciously foists one‘s shadow are

forced into roles such as enemies or heroes; they will, therefore, not be seen fully as the

individuals they already are. Similarly, one‘s love interests can carry the burden of one‘s

inner contrasexual aspects. Depending on the extent to which one has or has not worked

through one‘s complexes, such as those instigated by one‘s positive or negative parental

relationships, one‘s love relationships will suffer as a result.

Even though through projection we all burden our relationships with our own

unconscious baggage, such relationships also provide us with the opportunity to discover

these unconscious aspects of ourselves. If we can recognize and accept our projections as

parts of our own personality, that acknowledgment not only unburdens our partners but

also enlarges our consciousness. Relationships thus give us all a means through which to

develop into, and become, more of the individuals we already, but unconsciously, are.

Another way to describe Jung‘s developmental model is through the development

of consciousness, to which he similarly ascribed the three stages of psychological

development depicted above as stages of consciousness (1969b, p. 391). Included in the

development of consciousness are the needs (1) to discover and integrate the idiosyn-
 51

cratic contents, including one‘s complexes, in one‘s personal unconscious that challenge

one‘s ego-intentions, and (2) to know something of one‘s own ―unique constellation of

archetypal mythologems‖ that describe one‘s inner relationship to the collective uncon-

scious (Ulanov, 1972, p. 57). Each content comes as an increase to one‘s consciousness,

an increase in libido or psychic energy, and a step towards greater wholeness. But each

increase can also bring the potential for a dangerous inflation in which one experiences

an exaggerated sense of importance through becoming possessed by an archetypal energy

(Sharp, 1991).

Famous examples are the Biblical story of the tower of Babel and the Greek myth

of Icarus. In both, individuals forgot their place on Earth and rose too close to ―the gods‖;

both ended in a fall. In a more recent, and all too real, example, Jung suggested that it

was a collective possession by the god Wotan that drove the German people into World

War II (Jung, 1970a). In other words, if one is not careful, increased contact with the

unconscious will not increase one‘s consciousness but serve to bring about its overthrow.

Unfortunately, psychic wholeness does not mean only the development of consciousness,

but also the loss of it in the form of a regressive participation mystique.

Jung also saw human development in terms of individuals discovering and incor-

porating their own contrasexual nature. As described above, Jung believed that we all

have masculine and feminine aspects of our psyche, and that our individuation requires us

to work to become conscious of, and to integrate, both. As Woodman stated in a lecture

in 1994, ―in both men and women there are two energies, masculine and feminine, and

our work is to bring these two energies into balance.‖ Hollis (2004) similarly suggested

that ―each of us has a so-called masculine task, and each of us has a so-called feminine
 52

task,‖ adding that, ―if we see them as the twin embodiments of life‘s forms and dyna-

misms, we gain an enormous sense of the archetypal task before us‖ (p. 56). The

archetypal task presented, which is represented by the relationship one has to one‘s

contrasexual other, is lifelong and can be seen as one‘s life‘s work, for, as Jung (1969b)

stated, the anima ―sums up everything that a man can never get the better of and never

finishes coping with‖ (p. 271)

Psychological development and metaphor. Even though our culture today is

more sensitive about ascribing specific roles and tasks to men and women than it has

been for over two millennia of patriarchal imbalance, the archetypal images and motifs

that appear in our unconscious do not necessarily reflect our newfound social and politi-

cal awareness. The archetypal images that meet us in dreams are still often personified

with specific genders; moreover, because the archetypal image is its own best representa-

tion, if we dream it with a gender, the gender carries meaning. Characters in myths are

usually gendered as well, such as Apollo and his sister Artemis in ancient Greek mythol-

ogy. Wherever they appear, dream figures, mythic figures, and even real life figures upon

whom we project, often carry the strong numinous pull that is characteristic and repre-

sentative of our deep archetypal longing for our own contrasexual other. Each, therefore,

provides us with a potential bridge to our own psyche‘s wholeness.

As Tacey (1997) similarly observed:

Masculine and feminine are not only a cause for intellectual confusion or
embarrassment, but also, strangely, a source of spiritual power. The
psyche continues to use male and female, man and woman, as symbols of
the polar opposites that move through the personality.... Our dreams are
peopled with inner men and inner women (p. 35).
 53

To find psychological value in these images, we must put aside our political

correctness and see them as personifications of our own psyche. In order to do this, as

Tacey also states, ―the point is that masculine and feminine need to be constantly raised

from the literal level to the metaphorical level‖ (p. 35). In other words, if we attempt to

apply any of our conscious ideas or values to our dreams by making them androgynous or

sexless, or anything they are not, we lose specific detail in the image. It is this detail that

is necessary to help us understand the image. If we can remember that dream personifi-

cations are metaphors, and indeed ancient ones with symbolic equivalents throughout

history, and if we use their full specificity in order to help us understand them, we are

then more likely to be able to interpret and understand their specific meanings. This

acceptance and openness are necessary if one is to discover why one‘s psyche is

dreaming them anew today.

For example, one such metaphorical motif that Jung, and followers such as

Campbell, often use in regard to initiation and individuation is that of the hero. Both

experiences could be said to require the bravery, fortitude, and goal-orientation of the

classical hero. Myths that metaphorically depict a hero facing challenges towards

individuation have been with us since the Epic of Gilgamesh, and the motif of the hero‘s

journey is ever spun into new mythic images that speak to new generations, from

Homer‘s Odyssey to the contemporary Star Wars. Common to all is that each metaphori-

cally contains ―images of dominating laws and principles‖ of the unconscious (Jung,

2012, p. 55).

While traditional personifications of the hero in the history of the Western world

have mostly been male, female heroes have also always been with us. For a historical
 54

example one need look no farther than Joan of Arc, who led an army to victory. As the

culture has changed in the 20th century towards greater equality between the sexes, the

number of female heroes has increased, such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003),

the only individual capable of balancing the forces that threatened to overwhelm and

overthrow our world (Nichols, 2008).

The hero is one of our living mythic motifs, with widespread appeal in our time.

Western civilization could easily, and in many ways rightly, be defined as a hero-

worshiping culture. At the same time, the mythologem of the hero is overused today,

having become something of an empty cliché. Von Franz (1996) stated that ―if you have

a sun complex, then everything is solar, and if you have a moon complex, everything is

lunar‖ (p. 14). Using this line of thought, since so much of the literature and films we

produce could be described as heroic, it could be said that we have a hero complex. Thus

even though the motif of the hero is a common archetypal motif that may spring from,

and attempt to communicate something of, the impulse towards individuation, a research-

er needs to exercise caution. In focusing on a general motif rather than specific images,

one can easily lose the precious detail of the direct encounter with the unconscious. As

Jung (2008) noted, we must ―stay with the image,‖ as the image itself is always its own

best interpretation (p. 381). The image is idiosyncratic and specific, therefore never a

cliché.

Hillman (1985) also warned that the mythic motif of the hero has become a

problem in itself, observing that it may be more representative of a ―myth of inflation‖ in

our time rather than ―the secret key to the development of consciousness‖; thus ―the

Hero-myth tells the tale of conquest and destruction, the tale of psychology‘s ‗strong
 55

ego,‘ its fire and sword, as well as the career of its civilization, but it tells little of the

culture of its consciousness‖ (p. 93). In other words, the hero is better suited to describing

the masculine, patriarchal consciousness of our time than in any way engendering the

feminine consciousness that is required to balance it, or indeed to healing what it has

sundered. The sword is certainly no metaphor for relatedness.

Similarly, Joan of Arc and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, counter to their sex, most

likely represent patriarchal, rather than matriarchal, values and goals. In this way, they

could be considered no less masculine than Beowulf. For a truly feminine hero we could

do better by considering an even earlier example, such as Psyche from Apuleius‘s ancient

Roman tale of Eros and Psyche (in Neumann, 1956). While Psyche carries no sword,

neither does she shirk formidable and personally dangerous challenges in order to reunite

with the object of her love, Eros. Rather, she listens to others and accepts help and advice

when proffered; thus she could be said to model a heroic courage and passion, but uses

the traditionally feminine quality of relatedness instead of the traditionally masculine

quality of discernment. A more modern example, one that may combine both masculine

and feminine aspects of a hero, is Eowyn in Tolkien‘s (2012) The Lord of the Rings: The

Return of the King; as Luke (1992) noted, Eowyn is able to wield a masculine sword and

deal a fatal blow, yet only out of a life-affirming, feminine capacity for love and related-

ness.

The Opposites

Gods, too, are born of the archetypes within us, and their dual natures are our

own. Jung believed that our psyches are made up of opposites, such as our contrasexual

natures, and his psychology is a system of recognizing and reconciling them. The con-
 56

scious and the unconscious parts of the psyche are also two opposites, kept in balance by

the ―self-regulating function‖ of the psyche, i.e., the unconscious compensation of our

conscious position (Jung, 1971, p. 218). Jung (1969a) believed that it is to these opposites

that we owe our consciousness; as he explained, ―there is no consciousness without

discrimination of opposites…. Nothing can exist without its opposite; the two were one in

the beginning and will be one again in the end. Consciousness can only exist through

continual recognition of the unconscious‖ (p. 96).

The gods, with their dual natures, provide humankind with images of the arche-

typal opposites within ourselves; by uniting them in a single image, they model their

reconciliation. Through their personifications they depict the opposites in a human guise

that we can witness and relate to, and through their mythic tales they portray how we

come to meet their energies in our lives. The opposites are not static but in constant flux;

like positive and negative poles on a battery, they energize conflicts and seed new

growth. As Zeus bore Athena from his forehead, the gods create new solutions and

transcend their dual nature through divine creative acts, thus showing us the potential for

a divine and transcendent solution to the problem of opposites that plagues us.

Ulanov (1971) stated that ―the psyche is structured in polarities of opposites

whose interchange of energy is the life energy of the psyche for the human being‖ (p.

143). From the perspective of psychic energy, or libido, Jungian analysis could be

portrayed as an effort to free up energy that has become stuck in regressive or outmoded

polarities. Jung (1989) saw these polarities not only as opposites but also as in opposition

to one another; not surprising, he called his own effort to know the products of his

unconscious a ―confrontation‖ (p. 170). The basis of Jung‘s psychology has, again not
 57

surprisingly, been described as a ―conflictual model‖ (Tacey, 2007, p. 45). Jung (1969c)

discovered that, through confronting these opposites, yet not consciously seeking to

reconcile them, which he described as a holding of the ―tension of the opposites‖ (p.

465), the psyche autonomously produces a new solution. Jung called this the

transcendent function.

The Transcendent Function

Jung called the autonomous process through which we meet a new solution to the

problem of opposites the transcendent function. When the psyche is in conflict and at a

standstill, as Jung (1969a) explained, ―the unconscious psyche always creates a third

thing‖ (p. 167), an archetypal solution to our dilemma. This ―third thing‖ provides a

specific solution to correct the one-sidedness of an ego-consciousness that has strayed

from the attitude of the psyche.

Through the transcendent function, Jung (1971) stated that ―the standstill is

overcome and life can flow on with new power towards new goals‖ (p. 480). In other

words, the transcendent function provides both the psychic energy that drives, and the

new direction that leads to, self-development. Like Freud, Jung used the term libido to

describe psychic energy, but to Jung libido is not only sexual energy but also the driving

force behind all the needs and goals of the psyche, such as hunger, safety, and meaning.

It is this archetypal energy that is specifically expressed in archetypal images.

Jung considered these images to be ―identical‖ with the psychic energy they represent

(1966a, p. 215), describing the job of bringing these images to consciousness, the work of

individuation, as the task of liberating the psychic energy of the unconscious. Removing

energy from the unconscious not only makes it available to consciousness, but also
 58

removes its potential to empower unconscious contents such as complexes, and to drive

unconscious processes such as projections. Archetypal images are also images of instinct.

Jung (1969d) conceptualized instinct and archetype at opposite ends of a spectrum (p.

211), with instinct providing energy and impetus, and archetype providing direction and

form. Archetypal images combine both into divine solutions, with images of gods being

one of the ways our psyches imagine and relate to them.

Even though the transcendent function is not a process under the ego‘s control, it

is an unconscious process that the ego can learn to instigate and follow. Jung observed

that the conscious mind ―has no knowledge of the thing that unites‖ (p. 168), but

described it as being ―born out of the womb of the unconscious‖ and representative of

―the strongest, most ineluctable urge in every being, namely the urge to realize itself‖ (p.

170). Put simply, the psyche longs to be whole, and the unconscious will provide both the

archetypal energy and the archetypal direction to make it so.

Jung (1969a) similarly believed that the conscious mind ―longs for a solution‖ (p.

168), adding that one can discover the solution because ―the meaningful but unknown

content always has a secret fascination for the conscious mind‖ (p. 168). Even though the

conscious mind is defended against discovering the archetypal contents of the collective

unconscious, just as it is similarly defended against discovering the shadow contents of

its personal unconscious, these contents can fascinate us, because they resonate with

meaning for the entire psyche, not just the ego. As noted above, following Otto, Jung

described these resonant contents as numinous.

 59

Initiation and Transition

Jung believed that it is no forgone conclusion that people will develop to their full

psychological potential. Each individual must learn how to make a transition from one

stage of life to another. As Tacey (2007) explained, ―males have to become men, and

females become women‖ (p. 65). In lay terms, every individual is tasked with having to

―grow up,‖ and with learning how to do so.

Historically, the elders in an individual‘s social group played a leading role in this

endeavor. All traditional cultures contain intricate and psychologically meaningful

initiation rituals and ceremonies, or rites of passage, aimed at providing symbolic instruc-

tions on how to transition to a new social identity and role. These ceremonies would

provide individuals with not only an external ritual enactment within their social group,

but also an internal numinous experience within themselves. They would thus foster a

greater connection to the community in which they belonged, as well as to their own

archetypal depths. In other words, these experiences would meet the definitions of all

four of Campbell‘s functions of myth.

Unfortunately, apart from mostly secular institutions such as the military and

sports teams, there are few experiences of initiation left in the Western world that play

such a role for today‘s youth. The images and practices of our old religions fail to move

as many individuals as they once did. While the role of providing these rituals is usually

the role of the elders in a society, many of our elders today have either not initiated

themselves, or have lost the inner resonance and meaning of the experience. Indeed, our

elders cannot confer what they themselves have not learned (Hollis, 1994).
 60

Individuals not only need to learn about potential initiatory experiences that may

be able to provide meaningful instructions on how to transition to adult roles and

identities. They also need the numinous pull of the experiences themselves to counter the

inclination to remain in the assumed safety of where they already are, as well as the

regressive longing to return to where they have already been. For a ritual to work in this

regard, Jung (1969a) stated that the archetypal nature of the experience must provide ―an

almost irresistible compulsion and urge to become what one is‖ (p. 357, italics his).

Without such foreknowledge, guidance, and motivation, and indeed even with it,

the ego has every reason to be afraid of change, for any archetypal experience brings with

it a potential for inflation and possession. To the ego, moreover, any initiatory experience

is experienced as a complete loss of control. Not surprisingly, Van Gannep (1960), who

called the middle part of the initiation passage ―rites of transition‖ or ―liminal rites‖ (p.

11), described it as a ―death phase‖ (Tacey, 1997, p. 117). While such ritual experiences

may look externally to be only symbolic enactments, within the psyche they are all very

real, experienced as the overwhelming numinous experiences that direct encounters with

―the gods‖ have always been.

Following Van Gannep, Turner (1987) called the rites of transition ―liminal‖

space, which he described as a condition of ―ambiguity and paradox … realm of pure

possibility whence novel configurations of ideas and relations may arise‖ (p. 7). ―Limen‖

means threshold, and Turner saw liminality as the middle stage between a stage of

separation, in which one must break away from one‘s social group and identity, and a

stage of aggregation, in which one must return and incorporate what one has learned.

Jung (1967b) also described initiation as a cycle of death and rebirth. Using the mythic
 61

motif of the ―night sea journey,‖ he described it as the challenging time between sunset,

when the solar god has plunged to his death in the sea, and a new dawn, when the new

sun will be born again and rise anew (p. 210).

This cycle is also described in the Tibetan Book of the Dead (Freemantle &

Trungpa, 1975), or the Bardo Thödol, as it is titled in Tibetan, which has been used for

centuries to instruct the adept on how to navigate a perilous passage after death in order,

similarly, to be reborn anew. As the Tibetan Rinpoche Chögyam Trungpa (1975) stated:

Bardo means gap; it is not only the interval of suspension after we die but
also the suspension in the living situation; death happens in the living
situation as well. The Bardo experience is part of our basic psychological
make-up. There are all kinds of Bardo experiences happening to us all the
time…. So this book [the Bardo Thödol] is not only a message for those
who are going to die and those who are already dead, but it is also a mes-
sage for those who are already born; birth and death apply to everybody
constantly, at this very moment (pp. 1-2).

Whether it is called a gap, a death phase, a liminal stage, or a Bardo experience, each is a

psychological experience that can occur throughout one‘s life whenever an old identity

needs to be left behind and a new identity discovered. The Bardo Thödol is thus a good

example of a living myth, and the Tibetan Buddhist culture a living tradition, that still

instructs individuals on what these experiences mean and how to navigate their way

through them.

For those of us who do not have the benefit of a traditional, ready-made initiatory

path, complete with instructions, teachers, and rituals, we are tasked with discovering

one. As described above, one way is to seek to discover our own ―personal myth,‖ the

specific collection of inner archetypal images and motifs that provide our own instruc-

tions towards initiation and individuation, much as Jung did himself. Yet this solitary

initiatory path is not easy. As Jung (1966a) warned, ―Very few are capable of this (‗Many
 62

are called, but few are chosen‘). And these few tread this path only from inner necessity,

not to say suffering, for it is as sharp as the edge of a razor‖ (p. 239). One must feel not

only called but chosen, because otherwise one would undoubtedly turn back. The choice

of greater consciousness and individuation requires individuals to break from the relative

safety of cultural adaptation, instead being ―handed over to fear‖ (p. 388), much as Adam

and Eve‘s choice of consciousness led to their loss of Eden.

Thus, while becoming conscious of one‘s own personal myth may be the goal of

individuation and Jungian psychotherapy, Jung did not believe that it was a foregone

conclusion that individuals would choose to pursue it, or that they would even be able to

make it very far if they did. He believed that most individuals are embedded in the spirit

of the times, a condition which he called ―mass mindedness‖ (1970a, p.379), and thus

blind to a higher, or wider, calling. For those called, the challenge is to see through the

illusion of a wished-for objectivity in order to discover the reality of our subjectivity.

Parental Complexes

For one to be able to transition into adulthood in the first half of life, one needs to

separate from one‘s parents. Yet to work towards one‘s individuation in the second half

of life, one must sooner or later face and work through one‘s parental complexes.

Woodman (1993) stated that acknowledging and confronting the mother and father

complexes are the main psychological work that individuals need to undertake in our

time. To the extent that one has not done this psychological work, one can fall into a state

of unconscious identity with the complex (Ulanov, 1972), an identity that is always

regressive, for it does not allow one to transition into the adult, and psychologically

whole, self, and to discover one‘s own contrasexual nature in the process.
 63

Parental complexes are, of course, only within one‘s own psyche. Even though

they were influenced by one‘s actual experiences with one‘s parents, because a complex

is made up of a transpersonal, archetypal core that is loaded with layer upon layer of

one‘s personal experiences, one must work to divest the experiences from the archetypal

core. Ulanov (1971) stated that there are two ways to do this work, a ―reductive‖ method

enabling one to become conscious of the original personal experiences that were

repressed,11 or a ―synthetic-constructive‖ method in which one seeks to understand, and

become conscious of, the symbolic meaning of the content (p. 30). A reductive analysis

works through one‘s personal experiences; thus it is idiosyncratic to the individual and

takes place in psychotherapy. A synthetic-constructive analysis works to understand the

symbolic, transpersonal meaning of the archetypal material. The first method could be

said to lead towards only psychological healing, while the second leads not only to

healing but also to psychological development. A synthetic-constructive method is

another way of describing the approach that I am using in this dissertation.

Mother complex. As noted above, my analysis focuses on individuation in

Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004). This interpretation of the film is based on Howl‘s specific

individuation problem, which, described psychologically, includes his need to differen-

tiate himself—and, therefore, the feminine aspect of his own psyche—from his mother

complex. Therefore, I am concentrating upon the mother complex in this and later

sections of the dissertation.

In Jung‘s view, an adult dependence on childhood is often personified as the

image of the mother in the form of what he called a mother complex. In each individual

man, Jung believed, the actual mother becomes the first bearer of his anima image;
11
I.e., Freud‘s psychoanalytic approach (Jung, 1966a, p. 59).
 64

moreover, this image ―protects him against the dangers that threaten from the darkness of

his own psyche‖ (p. 197). Jung believed that the purpose of initiation rituals was to

separate a boy from an unconscious identification with this internalized image of his

mother.

The mother complex, due to its archetypal core, has a dual nature. As represented

in the Indian god Kali, she who gives life can also bring death; thus the tree and the

coffin can both symbolize the mother (Neumann, 1982). Similarly, the mother complex

can be positive or negative. In its positive form, the mother complex can, just like a

personal mother, draw one into life and positively encourage meaningful relationships

with others and the environment in which one lives. Like the Good Witch of the North in

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Baum, 2003, p. 14), it can empower one on one‘s life‘s

journey. The internalization of the mother in the form of the mother complex is thus a

necessary developmental achievement. At the same time, the mother complex can, just

like a personal mother, also encourage dependence and lingering in a childhood state

rather than developing into a fully autonomous adult.

The negative form of the mother complex can be debilitating. Like the Wicked

Witch of the West in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Baum, 2003), it can frighten one

about life‘s challenges, and thus negatively promote clinging to an outgrown stage of

development rather than attending to one‘s developmental needs. At the same time, the

negative form always holds necessary parts of oneself that need to be acknowledged and

integrated. It was not until Dorothy was able to discover and free her heart, brain, and

courage from the witch, the negative mother complex, that she was able to move ahead

on her life‘s journey.

 65

Whether positive or negative, an overly powerful identification with the mother

complex will not allow individuals to develop an independent persona and achieve the

necessary independence and adaptation to their culture, the task of the first half of life,

nor will it allow all them to make the second half of life transition towards a vocation that

provides inner meaning. Instead, individuals will remain caught by an archetypal image

that, to make matters even more complicated, is colored and contaminated by their own

experiences of their personal mother. While this image may have served childhood,

unless they find some way to overcome its unconscious power over them, it will ulti-

mately stand in the way of their own psychological growth and may even draw them

backwards in the form of a regressive pull. As Jung (1967b) articulated, ―the road of

regression leads back to childhood, and in a manner of speaking, into the mother‘s body‖

(p. 329), which is symbolically equivalent to the earth and the unconscious. Returning to

the source means none other than the death of consciousness. Regarding male develop-

ment, Hollis (1994) stated that ―no man can be himself until he has confronted the mother

experience he internalized and carried into all subsequent encounters‖ (p. 54).

The mother complex includes, at its archetypal core, the archetypal feminine, but

it also includes all of the failed early personal experiences of the feminine that have

accrued around it, a large part of which come from the actual experiences of one‘s own

mother. Hollis (2009) describes these as wounds of ―overwhelmment‖ and ―abandon-

ment‖ (p.12), stating that many individuals have both. In male psychology, as Hollis

(1994) noted, it is because of the mother complex that ―all the neediness of the inner

child remains active in the present, as well as his fear of the mother‘s power to over-

whelm or abandon him‖ (p. 56). Through the mother complex the archetypal feminine is
 66

bound to wounds of abandonment and overwhelmment, thus separating men from their

own contrasexual nature.

At the same time, not all instances of parental complexes are negative. The

animus, for example, can constellate, as von Franz (1980) noted, as a ―divine puer

aeternus … a creative spirit who can inspire a woman to undertake her own spiritual

achievements‖ (p. 134). But it can also come out in negative forms such as ―judgmental

projections that tend to cut a woman off‖ from her relationships and life (p. 135). All of

the positive experiences of the mother are added to a mother complex, and it is through

these experiences that individuals learn to relate to themselves and others (Hollis, 1994).

While these are important and necessary skills, unless individuals learn to differentiate

them from the internal image of their personal mother, they will remain dependent on her

through a mother complex and have a difficult time transitioning to an autonomous and

independent adult.

Whether positively or negatively charged, until all individuals endeavor to

become conscious of their own parental complexes, they will haunt both their relation-

ships with others and their relationship with themselves. When one is able to find a

partner on whom one is able to project one‘s contrasexual nature, to the extent that one is

unconscious of one‘s mother or father complex, the partner will be unconsciously tasked

with carrying its projection. While this is a burden to the relationship, it is also a terrific

opportunity to discover the parental complexes within, and to work to divest them from

their own contrasexual natures so that these aspects of themselves can find a more full

and individual expression.

 67

Complexes can be triggered when the ego feels threatened; when that happens,

they replay past traumas and stored emotional memories. A mother complex can thereby

be devouring and debilitating. Yet it can also be protective by overwhelming one from

within and thereby unconsciously helping one to avert another crisis. Even though this

may be effective in the short term, it will not allow one consciously to learn a new adap-

tation to the problem that triggered it. Since complexes have no consciousness of their

own and cannot learn, they ―bind us to our disempowered past‖ (Hollis, 2007, p. 220).

Therefore, if complexes are left unconscious, they can and do arrest one‘s further psycho-

logical development.

Stages of Anima Development

Jung (1968) stated that ―the mother is the first carrier of the anima-image‖ (p. 73).

As discussed above, the anima can get stuck in ―mother,‖ specifically in the form of the

mother complex. Unless a man works through his mother complex, his relationship to his

own inner feminine cannot progress. Jung (1966b) and von Franz (1964) both posited

four stages of anima development that depict a man‘s increasingly conscious relation-

ship with his own feminine nature.

Von Franz (1964) described the first stage of anima development as symbolized

by Eve, the original mother, who ―represents purely instinctual and biological relations‖

(p. 185). The second stage is what is often called by the derogatory term ―anima woman,‖

a woman seen for her appearance and sexuality only. Jung (1966b) provided the example

of Helen of Troy (p. 174), but a more contemporary example might be Marilyn Monroe.

A third stage of anima development as described by von Franz is raising ―love (Eros) to

the heights of spiritual devotion‖ (p. 185). Jung (1966b) used the example of Mary, the
 68

mother of God (p. 174), but it could also be seen more recently in the figures of Saint

Theresa, or even Mother Teresa. Jung (1966b) described the fourth stage as the ―eternal

feminine,‖ symbolized by the ―alchemical Sapientia‖ and Sophia, the Gnostic image of

feminine wisdom (p. 174). Noting that ―this stage is hardly reached,‖ von Franz also

suggested the example of the Mona Lisa (pp. 185-186).

The developmental stages of the anima, as might be expected, reflect the degree

of consciousness of the individual who perceives her. They could also be described as a

depiction of both a man‘s development of and relationship to his own feminine nature.

The anima will appear both in the inner female figures that populate a man‘s dreams and

in the actual women who are able to, and unwittingly forced to, carry his anima projec-

tions. That we, in the Western world, have a nearly complete absence of collectively

recognized symbols of the feminine spirit of devotion and feminine wisdom, the third and

fourth stage of anima development, but a plethora of images of mothers and sexualized

women, the first and second stages of anima development, is extremely telling of the

developmental stage of many individuals in our masculine-dominated culture. Yet this

may be changing; in the past half-century, many Jungian and feminist scholars and

practitioners have shown a resurging interest in the goddesses of our matriarchal forbears

and the matriarchal cultures still extant today.

Bridge to the Self

Nowhere is the development of the anima more important than in contemporary

men‘s relationship to the feminine and the value it can have for their psychological

development. Jung (1967a) called the anima, or contrasexual other within, ―a bridge to

the unconscious, in other words, as a function of relationship to the unconscious‖ (p. 42).
 69

Von Franz (1964) similarly described it as a ―mediator between the ego and the Self‖ (p.

185) and a ―guide to the inner world‖ (p. 186). The Self marks a major shift in one‘s

individuation process, for unlike the shadow and the anima, the Self is not an image or

personification of only the unconscious, but of the whole psyche. Through the anima men

are tasked with discovering that there is something greater than their own ego conscious-

ness, and with accepting the fact that their ego is not in charge of it.

Jung described the Self as the ―psychic totality of an individual‖ (Jung, 1969b, p.

156), stating that is both the ―center‖ and ―periphery‖ of the psyche (1969a, p. 357). The

Self can thus be seen as the archetype of the whole psyche, or wholeness, as well as the

central organizing point in the psyche around which all else revolves (Jung, 1969b).

Therefore, the Self includes everything in the psyche: all of the paired opposites, the

complexes of the personal unconscious, the archetypes of the collective unconscious, and

even the ego itself (Jung, 1969a).

The Self could, in sum, be said to be the beginning and the end of our journey of

self-development. As Tacey (2007) put it, ―the archetype of the Self stands behind all of

Jung‘s work, and represents the origin of the ego and the goal to which every ego strives‖

(p. 48). Jung believed that each of us is born whole, but through the act of developing our

individual consciousness we are thrust out of this wholeness, much as, through the act of

eating the apple of consciousness, Adam and Eve were thrust out of Eden. Yet Jung also

believed that it is only through the further development of consciousness that one can

work to rectify this unfortunate situation. Even so, because to the ego the unconscious

truly is unconscious, the only means to achieve this is through bringing the ego into a

proper relationship to the Self. Because the Self is the ―periphery‖ that contains every-
 70

thing in the psyche as well as the psyche‘s center,12 bringing the ego into relationship

with the Self is bringing it into balance with the wholeness of which it is a part. In the

Self the psyche is already whole.

The Self is also considered to be the part of the psyche that directs its self-

regulating function, and has even been called the psyche‘s ―dream maker‖ (Woodman,

1994). Its self-regulatory process is one that individuals can learn to follow, but attempt-

ing to follow it is no simple task. It requires individuals to overthrow the conscious con-

trol of their own ego, and to set up a new order in the psyche in which the ego becomes

related to the Self as the center of the psyche. This has been called the ―ego-Self axis,‖

for it aligns the two parts of the psyche to each other, i.e., puts them on the same axis

(Kalsched, 1996. p. 96).

Aligning one‘s ego to the Self requires enough faith, courage, or desperation to

put one‘s full trust into the Self and to follow its inner calling. This is essentially the same

as taking on a religious attitude, for, as Tacey (2006) put it, ―the ego stands to the Self in

Jung‘s system as humanity stands to God‖ (p. 47). The usual precursor to taking on a

religious attitude is that individuals must first come to realize that it is following the

direction of their ego, and its face of social adaptation, the persona, that has led to their

suffering, and by extension, the suffering of those around them. Another path is to have a

direct religious experience in which one discovers a new, and numinous, opportunity, or

even a meaningful vocation. An example from literature is Parsifal‘s miraculous discov-

ery of the Grail castle only to lose it again, a fateful encounter that gave meaning and

purpose to the rest of his life. A realization of this nature often comes at midlife, when

12
―The Self has always been, and will be, your innermost centre and periphery, your scintilla and punctum
solis‖ (Jung, 1976, p. 725, italics his).
 71

individuals find that they have become too one-sided and ―so specialized that they can

hardly stand it anymore‖ (Hollis, personal communication, October 2013).

Controversy: The Anima or Archetypal Feminine

Many of Jung‘s theories are controversial, but likely none so much so as his

theory of the anima. Late in life, in a personal letter to a colleague, Calvin S. Hall, Jung

(1975) admitted that anima and animus are ―irrational and clumsy ideas‖ that ―no philos-

opher in his senses would invent‖ (p. 192). But in the same letter Jung countered his own

criticism by stating that, even though they are clumsy, they are ―facts‖ of the psyche (p.

192). He wrote, ―Mythological motifs are facts; they never change; only theories change‖

(p. 192). Jung considered himself not a philosopher but ―an empiricist,‖ focused on

discerning and describing information about the nature of the psyche (p. 70). In one of his

letters he went so far as to suggest that he was not even attempting to be systematic in his

approach or in his findings, stating, ―I am thoroughly empirical and have no system at all.

I try to describe facts‖ (p. 185)

Even so, Jung did not always stick to his own psychic ―facts.‖ Throughout his

writings, lectures, and interviews, Jung regularly commented on, and applied his theories

to, politics, gender, and world events. In so doing he sometimes conflated inner and outer

contents, such as aligning the archetypal feminine with women and the archetypal mascu-

line with men, and writing about political and cultural topics related to women in such

articles and lectures as ―Woman in Europe‖ (1970a, pp. 113-133) and ―The Love Prob-

lem of a Student‖ (1970a, pp. 97-112). In a particularly egregious example from Aion,

Jung (1969a) not only did not describe Eros as a feminine principle that could be in men

or women, but used it as a specific principle to depict women alone:

 72

In women ... Eros is an expression of their true nature, while their Logos is
only a regrettable accident.... No matter how friendly and obliging a
woman‘s Eros may be, no logic on earth can shake her if she is ridden by
the animus. Often the man has the feeling—and he is not altogether wrong
—that only seduction or a beating or a rape would have the necessary
power of persuasion (pp. 14-15).

This quotation was originally published in 1950 in Switzerland. It is hard for me

to believe that it was acceptable at any time or place in the 20th century. Given this one

quote alone, it is not surprising that some have suggested that Jung had a misogynistic

streak. As a partial explanation, Rowland (2002) suggested that ―crucial structures of

gender within [Jung‘s] writings need to be seen in both personal and cultural contexts‖

(p. 21)—i.e., in light of Jung‘s own life and relations with anima ―medium‖ women (p.

19), and the conservative, patriarchal culture of Switzerland in the latter 19th and early

20th centuries. In other words, we should not condone the statement, but see it as reflec-

tive of another time and context.

Yet it is also a fact that many of Jung‘s closest followers and colleagues were

women, including many of the translators, editors, and writers with whom he collab-

orated. The book that marked his break from Freud, Symbols of Transformation, focused

almost entirely on one woman‘s visions, and in the late 1920s he taught a series of

seminars over several years about another woman‘s visions that were attended by many

of his female colleagues.13 Thus, for whatever reason, many of his followers did allow

such a comment to pass.

The purpose of this dissertation is not to correct, prove, refute, or otherwise

involve itself in Jung‘s sexist or misogynistic statements, nor is it to attempt, in any way,

to explain anything of the culture of Jung or his followers in relation to the feminism of

13
These lectures have been published as C. G. Jung (1997), Visions: Notes of the Seminars Given in 1930-
1934. (C. Douglas, Ed.). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
 73

today. At the same time, I also do not believe that one can discuss Jung‘s conception of

the feminine principle without noting his occasional conflation of it with women, and

indeed without noting that his own opinions and prejudices about women may somehow

be embedded within his psychological discussions of the feminine in either sex. Even so,

I believe, along with Tacey (1997), that, ―if we take away the patriarchal encrustations

from around Jung‘s ideas, the androgynous and compensatory model of the psyche is still

useful‖ (p. 31). While I do not condone Jung‘s comments, I believe that we can still learn

much from the contrasexual figures within each one of us that specifically personify

aspects within our own inner natures, and that can thereby help us relate to the uncon-

scious and the psyche as a whole. Whether we meet these figures in dreams, myths, or

art, or projected upon the individuals and contents in our lives, they communicate

alternative and necessary compensatory perspectives that bring healing, balance, and

growth.

At the same time, taking away the patriarchal encrustations requires one to work

to recognize the important, yet mostly unconscious, role these figures may play in our

own psyches. One means to do this, as Hillman (1985) suggested, is by attempting to

view the contrasexual other from the perspective of psyche and soul rather than just the

perspective of our ego. He even suggested that we attempt to see our ego from that

perspective as well. Considered in this way, instead of seeing anima as a potentially

―poisonous mood‖ and ―inspiring weakness,‖ as Jung suggested, we also see the ego

itself as ―an instrument of day-to-day coping,‖ a ―trusty janitor,‖ and a ―servant of soul

making‖ (p. 93). In other words, if we try to keep the ego in a humble perspective, we can

better value the unconscious opposite that seeks to balance it.

 74

Hillman also suggested that we go one step further and liberate the term anima

from being an inner figure within only the unconscious of men, recognizing it also as one

in the unconscious of women as well. He noted that, according to Jung‘s own theory,

archetypes are universal (1992, p. 50), therefore suggesting that the archetypal feminine

and the archetypal masculine belong equally to both sexes. Hillman also pointed to addi-

tional inconsistencies. He asked, ―why do we call the same behavior in one sex ‗anima‘

and in the other ‗natural feminine‘ or ‗shadow‘?‖ (1985, p. 59). He also rectified a

discrepancy related to soul: ―By depriving by definition women of anima—‗Woman has

no anima, no soul, but an animus‘ (Jung, CW17, par. 338)—is not analytical psychology

willy-nilly carrying a very ancient tradition of denying women soul and casting the

images of this soul into shadow?‖ (p. 59).

While Jung, by espousing the idea of a contrasexual aspect within every indivi-

dual, could be called something of a feminist trailblazer, it is obvious that his conception

of the anima ran headlong into a major cultural change in the rise of feminism in the

latter half of the 20th century. Even so, since his death, some of Jung‘s followers have

continued to echo a different set of psychological developmental processes for each

gender. For example, Harding (1965), herself a woman, stated that men ―must fight to

achieve manhood,‖ while women must find ―a more feminine way‖ (p. 160). While it is

safe to assume that contemporary cultures in the Western world have developed far past

the conservative values of Jung, and potentially those of some of his early followers, even

with Hillman‘s insight the necessary perspective on the role of, or the developmental task

required by, the archetypal feminine is still not well defined.

 75

Anima seems to be a topic that all men, and—if we agree with Hillman—women

too must similarly grope for in darkness. As Tacey (1997) explained, anima is an ―intrin-

sically difficult and slippery‖ concept (p. 171), one in which men ―virtually by definition,

cannot become ‗expert‘‖ (p. 171). Yet with the anima as a representation of one of the

twin energies that animate one‘s psyche, whether it is personified in a figure or repre-

sented in another symbolic form, a meeting with the archetypal feminine is necessary for

initiation into one‘s own mysteries; it is also somehow necessary for every transition into

a fuller representation of one‘s own personality. Ulanov (1971) stated that the ―highest

phase of … individuation in both sexes is initiated by the feminine‖ (p. 269), even

positing that it is also ―the feminine which completes the individuation of each sex‖ (p.

269, italics hers).

It is into the archetypal darkness that I, too, must grope in order to learn some-

thing of the archetypal feminine as it is represented in our time, for, as we shall discover

in the film Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004), Howl‘s fate is very much entwined with, and

dependent on, his contrasexual other. It is specifically this relationship that this disserta-

tion explores. For the purposes of this analysis, I therefore embrace Jung‘s conception of

the archetypal feminine, and I use anima specifically to denote it within those individuals

who consciously identify themselves as male or masculine. I do not ever use the term to

relate to women, and I consider the label of ―anima woman‖ as a derogatory one that

reduces rather than describes.14 Indeed, a siren is only one form that anima can take; the

archetypal feminine can appear in any of the number of forms that, ―called or not,‖ the

goddesses have ever taken.

14
It could be said that viewing anima as primarily a sex object says more about the individual doing the
viewing than anything about the archetypal feminine.
 76

Conclusion

Rites of passage have historically provided individuals with archetypal instruc-

tions that allow them to find their way out of the clutches of their parental complexes.

Initiation used to be built into our culture, but now that most of these rites are lost to us,

many individuals look to psychotherapy to play the same role. The archetypes within us

may not be as well represented externally through the archetypal images, mythic motifs,

and myths as they once were, but they have the same capacity to create new

representations as they have ever had. Looking for their energies and products as inner

factors, i.e., as ―the gods‖ within, also provides individuals with an opportunity that they

have never had before, the opportunity to become more conscious of themselves, and, in

so doing, more separate from the collective. As Jung (1970a, p. 304) wrote, ―We are

living in what the Greeks called the kairos, the right moment, for a ‗metamorphosis of the

gods,‘ of the fundamental principles and symbols. This peculiarity of our time, which is

certainly not of our conscious choosing, is the expression of the unconscious man within

us who is changing‖ (p. 304).

It could be a time for a ―metamorphosis of the gods‖ to occur, because the arche-

types have now, for many of us, been forced to find a new, and conscious, expression.

One could say that the unconscious is ―changing‖ precisely because our old collective

means of initiation are failing us. Because we are barred entry into our traditional social

roles that provided a collective solution to our problem of archetypes, we are now forced

to discover new and individual solutions. This inner work requires us to develop

psychological awareness and consciousness. As Harding (1965) explained,

If the individual becomes conscious in relation to the archetypal trend that

underlies his life—his fate—he can begin to adapt himself to it conscious-
 77

ly. The outer fate is then transmuted into inner experience, and the true
individuality of the man or the woman can begin to emerge (p. 164).

Depth psychology could thus be said to have given us an opportunity for a psychological

revolution, one which may enable us to discover a new way to relate to these energies

and to usher in a new epoch of balance, healing, and growth.

 78

CHAPTER III: INTERPRETIVE METHOD

As noted above, one of the means that Jung suggested to help individuals pursue

psychological healing and growth is to seek out the ―helpful archetype‖ to guide their

way. Another way to put this, also mentioned above, is to work towards discovering and

making conscious our own personal myth. Jung identified the numinous mythic images

and motifs that resonate within each of our psyches as having great psychological value,

given that they contain knowledge of who we are, instructions on how to develop and

heal, and even the ―urge‖ to develop and grow (1969a, p. 357). As Ann Shearer (2004)

observed, ―the study of myth ... offers a methodology, a discipline of mind and imagina-

tion, an approach to psyche‖ (p. 18). In other words, myths—those collected narratives

that contain archetypal images and motifs—can provide a lens or perspective through

which to seek to know the subjective factors that influence us from within, along with a

chance to know something of that which we unconsciously live and of the energies that

shape our lives.

Myth can, therefore, be seen as a means to approach and understand the raw data

of the unconscious psyche by seeking to interpret its symbolic images and motifs.

Viewed in this way, archetypal dreams could be seen as equally ―mythic‖ as any

mythology. Because a Jungian understanding of myth is of significant importance to the

approach I am taking to interpreting this film, a discussion of myth figures with both the

theoretical and methodological sections of this dissertation.

Discovering Our Myth

There have always been times in history in which icons have needed to be broken

in order for individuals, and ultimately cultures, to rediscover the energies they repre-
 79

sented in forms that are relevant to the times. As Jung explained this, it is ―like a snake

changing its skin, the old myth needs to be clothed anew in every renewed age if it is not

to lose its therapeutic effect‖ (1969a, p. 181). Yet whenever in history the icons were

broken and ―the old myths‖ discarded, those people initially had to suffer religious uncer-

tainty. They lost the ability to see or relate meaningfully to the inner energies represented

by the old myth, as well as the feeling of belonging that ascribing to a collective mytho-

logical system has always engendered.

Like Nietzsche‘s famous proclamation that ―God is dead‖ (1999, p. 3), Jung

recognized that for many in the West this is a time when the old icons have been smashed

and ―the gods‖ have died. Yet even though many of us may not have the benefit of

belonging to a religious tradition, or ascribing to a mythological system, we can still seek

assistance with discerning the instructions on how to navigate the major transitions of our

lives, and attempt to live lives in alignment with the archetypal energies that shape us

from within. Like Jung, we can all seek to discover the personal myth that we already

unconsciously serve. As Ann Ulanov (1971) described the concept of personal myth:

We each live out and fulfill our personal myth, experiencing our unique
constellation of archetypal mythologems.... We see our old impasses and
problems coming up again in new forms and situations.... To catch sight of
these invisible forces is to begin to piece together the mosaic of events that
compose our inner history, where the meaning of experience unfolds (p.
57).

Becoming conscious of our own personal myth gives us knowledge of not only what

moves us and influences our perceptions and ideas, but also of unconscious parts of

ourselves that can bring additional meaning and purpose to our lives. It can also give us,

as noted above, both greater awareness and the possibility of choice, for instead of being

caught in unconscious scripts that we unconsciously follow, the ―splinter mythologies‖ of

 80

our complexes (Hollis, 2005, p. 251), we can work to free ourselves from a cycle of

unconscious repetition in order to uncover a new destiny. As Jung put it, we can stop

―walking in shoes too small‖ for ourselves (Jung, 1969d, p. 381), and stop living the

unlived life of our parents vis-à-vis our parental complexes, instead choosing to pursue a

life that reflects our whole psyche and resonates with our own personal meaning.

Discovering our own myth can also can help our mental health, for living lives

either consciously suppressing or unconsciously repressing parts of ourselves can lead to

mental illness. Jung (1966a) stated that ―the gods have become diseases. Zeus no longer

rules Olympus but rather the solar plexus‖ (p. 37), pointing out that the energies that are

personified as the gods always find a means of expression. ―The gods,‖ it could be said,

want to be known; if we do not meet them consciously, they come to meet us in another

form, such as mental illnesses (p. 20) and addictions (Woodman, 1982).

To seek to know ―the piece of mythology‖ that a dream or image carries is to seek

a mirror through which we may be able to discover unknown aspects of our own psyche.

Jung realized that the mythic elements are teleological. As he stated:

During sleep … we find the helpful archetype, always there, in every

dangerous situation. We find a way out because the archetype is that form
of the process that makes the eternal melody of life possible; it blends
methodically into a solution…. When somebody reaches the archetype in
a dream, he has, so to speak, found the treasure, the key with which the
closed door can then be opened, or a magic with which the dangerous
situation can be exorcised (2008, p. 163).

In the treasure, the key, the magic that populate our dreams, Jung found a means to

discover one‘s own instructions for life, as one‘s personal myth. Jungian analysis, or

psychotherapy, could be called a means for discovering this myth.

 81

Put even more simply, myths allow one to witness something of oneself. Jung

(1969a) also stated that ―myths are original revelations of the preconscious psyche‖ (par.

154); to learn how to decipher these revelations is to know ourselves more deeply. As

Hollis (2004) observed:

Along with somatic states, myth is the deepest level of knowing which we
are permitted to access. As we cannot know the unconscious directly,
mythic material, personal or collective, is the most radical, most imme-
diate opening to the hidden world. It is the symbolic expression of the
soul. As Jung said directly, we study myth in order to know what is in the
unconscious (p. 15).

Through its production of archetypal images and mythic motifs, and its drawing of them

together into mythic narratives such as dreams, our unconscious could be said to ―think‖

mythologically. As Hollis noted, like the world‘s mythologies our unconscious uses a

form of ―symbolic expression.‖ Unlike signs that point to known, and knowable, objec-

tive data, symbols point metaphorically towards subjective data that cannot be directly

observed, much as a compass points north due to an invisible magnetic field we also

cannot see.

Any work to interpret the ―myths‖ of the unconscious requires our conscious

minds to learn to recognize and read its symbols, and to learn how to approach its

products ―mythologically,‖ i.e., as if they are myths. Ulanov (1971) called this effort

―remythologizing,‖ describing it as ―the result of seeing into and seeing beyond the

‗seen‘‖ (p. 128). If one learns to expand consciousness in this way, she noted, ―one‘s life

gradually makes visible one‘s myth‖ (p. 128). Jung (1975) called this living the

―symbolic life.‖ In order to achieve this, we need to look for numinous symbolic content

wherever it may appear, whether in our outer or inner lives. As Jung (1969b) stated, ―the
 82

anima no longer crosses our path as a goddess, but it may be an intimately personal

misadventure, or perhaps our best venture‖ (p. 30).

One means to discover if an archetypal content has a personal meaning for us is to

see if some aspect of it resonates within us, and meets, as described above, Campbell‘s

first function of myth. Archetypes, as Jung (1969d) observed, ―have a ‗specific charge‘

and develop numinous effects which express themselves as affects‖ (p. 436, italics his). It

is the emotional charge of an archetypal manifestation that takes us into its grip, letting us

know that the experience without is also an experience within, and that the experience

within is somehow important. Indeed, if an archetypal image does not have a numinous

charge, ―the gods‖ it represents have likely departed. But even though the old image may

have little left to teach us about our own psychology, it could still have much to teach us

about our culture‘s psychological history, or help us to interpret a new image that we may

not yet understand.

Jung‘s (1969b) way to understand these subjective factors was to use ―compara-

tive symbology,‖ a method that compares a dream symbol to synonymous symbols that

depict or describe the same factor (p. 239). Different symbols have the advantage of

capturing different elements of the unknown, and directly unknowable, factor they

represent, so each helps fill in part of the picture. Even so, interpreting symbols, such as

those in dreams, is a complex and difficult task, one in which it is all too easy to get lost

in all of the potential interpretations. To counter this, Jung (2008) suggested that one

―stay with the image,‖15 in order thereby to ground all interpretations in the image itself.

Because an archetypal image is the purest expression of the unconscious, i.e., the least

corrupted by conscious interpretation (p. 381), its specific detail provides the best data
15
As opposed to free associate away from the image.
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available. Archetypal images are also not only objective but subjective. As Ulanov (1971)

noted, they speak to ―the whole person—his mind, heart, senses, experience, and imagi-

nation,‖ thereby engaging us ―more fully than a mental concept‖ (p. 95).

Even so, because archetypal products are subjective and difficult to interpret, one

should attempt to verify an interpretation as much as possible. Jung (2008) suggested that

one way to do this is to compare a dream to interpretations of future dreams, i.e., to

consider dreams in a series (pp. 239-240). One can also seek to know more of one‘s

personal myth as reflected in dreams by comparing them to one‘s own life, for, as Ulanov

(1971) stated, ―one‘s life gradually makes visible one‘s myth‖ (p. 128). While potential

datasets for archetypal products include literature and films, they are limited in duration

and are not always a part of a series; thus a researcher may not be able to verify inter-

pretations beyond the work itself. Even so, a researcher can still look for a series of

comparative images and motifs within the work itself, attempting to note the growth of

changes in the lives of the characters over the time frame captured by the work.

Hermeneutic Methods

Hermeneutics is a research method that provides a means to interpret and

understand data such as texts and images. It has its roots in ancient Greece, where it was

used to describe the practice and method of interpreting the revelations of the Delphic

Oracle (Hewison, 1995, p. 386). Not surprisingly, the term‘s Greek root, hermeneutikon,

literally means ―things for interpreting‖ (Beebe, 2004, p. 180). It is also associated with

the Greek god Hermes, the messenger and thief who steals across boundaries and carries

messages among gods, mortals, and dwellers of the underworld (Hewison, 1995, p. 386).
 84

Hermeneutic methods have also been used to interpret Biblical scriptures. Until

the sixteenth century, hermeneutic interpretations were expected to include ―literal,

moral, allegorical, and eschatological‖ aspects; literal interpretation alone was considered

to do ―violence to the richness of the intended meaning‖ (Smythe & Baydala, 2012, p.

59). Yet due to religious and cultural shifts, such as the Protestant reformation and the

Age of Reason, hermeneutic interpretation has mostly come to be limited to literal

interpretation.

During the eighteenth century, Schleiermacher expanded hermeneutics to include

cultural analyses such as historical, social, and psychological interpretations (Smythe &

Baydala, 2012, p. 59). Dilthey, in his 1900 book The Origins of Hermeneutics, further

expanded hermeneutics by situating it in the humanities rather than the natural sciences,

establishing ―the validity of hermeneutics as a ‗human method‘ underlying the human

sciences‖ (Hewison, 1995). Unlike the scientific method, which seeks ―verification and

replication,‖ Dilthey‘s hermeneutics seeks to be ―participated in‖ (p. 388). In other

words, Dilthey‘s approach removes a false sense of division between the observer and the

observed, recognizing that researchers have no Archimedean point of view. We cannot

help but see through eyes clouded with feelings, values, and memories; moreover, as

Jung would add, the objects we perceive can also carry the weight of our unconscious

projections. Thus Dilthey believed that ―the act of interpretation … has to proceed as in a

dialogue with that which is to be interpreted, so that any interpretation remains tentative,

and it is led by the text or object‖ (p. 388).

In the 20th century Ricour proposed a ―hermeneutic of suspicion‖ and a

―hermeneutic of affirmation‖ as two valuable theoretical lenses though which to interpret

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material (Tacey, 1997, p. 46). Tacey described these hermeneutics as ―claiming the new‖

and ―redeeming the old‖ (p. 46). Through the hermeneutic of suspicion one severs, and

thereby frees oneself from, the constraints of past ideas and beliefs, and at the same time

carves off and discerns new ones. Yet ―suspicion‖ alone has the disadvantage of setting

one completely adrift, without the advantage of learning from what has been discovered

before. Learning requires ―affirmation,‖ a means to ―affirm‖ and incorporate prior

knowledge.

Tacey (1997) also called these same factors a ―spirit of revolution‖ and a ―spirit of

evolution‖ (p. 47). Revolutions are fast and often bloody, while evolution is sustainable

and respectful, but can be ponderously slow. Whether in biological, cultural, or psycho-

logical systems, it is conceivable that both spirits usually occur together. It is hard to

imagine an evolution that is not sped along by an occasional revolutionary factor that

clears the stage and sets new things in motion, nor is it likely that a revolution can have

much of a chance to succeed if there is not a stabilizing factor that allows for healing and

conscious growth. According to Tacey, one‘s individuation and initiation require both, as

he described the two factors as ―the guts to oppose and the courage to embrace‖ (p. 47).

Jung’s Hermeneutic Method

Jungian psychology is based, to a great extent, on interpreting the products of the

unconscious. Ulanov (1971) stated that ―the goal of [Jung‘s] symbolic method is to bring

about a conscious ego encounter with and relation to archetypal material‖ (p. 58).

Because he recognized that ―an archetypal content expresses itself, first and foremost, in

metaphors‖ (Jung, 1969b, p. 157), Jung developed and used a hermeneutic method in

order to interpret the metaphors for a psychological purpose: to promote the psyche‘s
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healing, growth, and return to wholeness, i.e., individuation. In relation to dream inter-

pretation, Jung usually called his hermeneutic method ―amplification,‖ which I describe

in detail below, but depending on the context he also called it a ―synthetic or construc-

tive‖ method‖ (1966a, p. 80), an ―ethno-psychological method‖ (2008, p. 28), or a

method of ―comparative symbolism‖ (1970, p. 340).

Jung thought of himself as an empiricist. He saw the archetypes as inner facets of

the psyche that shape our ideas, thoughts, and beliefs, much as instincts shape our beha-

viors. Because he believed archetypes to be collective and transpersonal, they provided

an objective ground for his psychology. Considered in this way, Jung was also an

essentialist, for the archetypes form a ―historically constituted‖ and ―pre-existential‖

origin of meaning, or ―essence,‖ within us all (Brooke, 2000, p. 6). Further confusing

matters, Jung also described himself as a phenomenologist (p. 235). He believed that the

images produced by archetypes are also idiosyncratic to the individuals who made them,

so that they need to be discovered and attended to in each specific instance and in every

lived experience in which they appear. In this way, Jung truly was a phenomenologist, for

he followed ―a systematic attempt to describe the psychological life without violating the

integrity of experience‖ (p. 1).

Through the psyche‘s self-regulating, compensating nature, archetypal images

automatically and autonomously constellate in order to move the psyche towards balance,

healing, and wholeness. If we are resisting a midlife encounter of individuation, for

example, we may find that we dream of its symbolic equivalent, such as the collective

symbols of the cross or mandala that can symbolize the uniting of opposites. We may

also find that we meet its symbolic equivalent in projected form, such as through a
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numinous encounter with a personal symbol such as a love interest or a new car. Or we

may similarly meet it in the images and motifs of a popular film such as Howl‟s Moving

Castle (2004).

For whatever reason archetypal representations may appear to, or be discovered

by, individuals, they can help by putting a specific image, or even a personified ―face,‖ to

their suffering. Jungian analysis thus specifically works with the images in dreams,

myths, and products of the imagination. As Jung (1989) noted in his autobiography, ―to

the extent that I managed to translate the emotions into images—that is to say, to find the

images which were concealed in the emotions—I was inwardly calmed and reassured‖ (p.

177). Having a specific image can potentially help individuals better relate to, and find

meaning in, their psychological problems, thereby providing them with a means of

consciously working on the problems rather than unconsciously drowning ―in a sea of

affect‖ (Hollis, 2013, personal communication, December 11, 2013).

Jung used his hermeneutic approach to interpret archetypal material psycho-

logically, as both a method for inquiry and a mode of therapy (Smythe & Baydala, 2012,

p. 59). The data for this approach came from the archetypal images and motifs found in

dreams, fairy tales, myths, and all other forms that contain or carry them. As Jung (1970)

stated:

The importance of hermeneutics should not be under-estimated: it has a

beneficial effect on the psyche by consciously linking the distant past, the
ancestral heritage which is still alive in the unconscious, with the present,
thus establishing the vitally important connection between a consciousness
oriented to the present moment only and the historical psyche which
extends over infinitely long periods of time (p. 336).

Put simply, Jung believed that a hermeneutic approach can play a beneficial role for the

psyche by helping to reconcile its conscious and unconscious parts. The historical psyche
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is another way of describing the collective unconscious, for its contents comprise some

two million years of archetypal history (Stevens, 1993). By describing the collective

unconscious as the historical psyche, Jung was pointing out that the unconscious not only

includes different contents from those of the conscious mind, but also has a different

relation to time. His hermeneutic approach provides a method that can reconcile these

differences between the two parts of the psyche.

In an essay first published in 1916, Jung (1966a) stated that, if a content of the

unconscious ―is understood hermeneutically, as an authentic symbol, it acts as a signpost,

providing the clues we need in order to carry on our lives in harmony with ourselves‖ (p.

291, italics his). Jung saw symbols as potential communication links that could help fur-

nish a vitally important connection between the conscious and the unconscious. Thus in

hermeneutics Jung discovered a method to help us balance the psyche through its ability

symbolically to interpret and understand the contents of the unconscious, and in so doing

to bring them into consciousness.

In the same 1916 essay, Jung described his hermeneutic approach and how he

used in a clinical setting:

The essence of hermeneutics, an art practiced in former times, consists in

adding further analogies to the one already supplied by the symbol: in the
first place subjective analogies produced at random by the patient, then
objective analogies provided by the analyst out of his general knowledge.
This procedure widens and enriches the initial symbol, and the final out-
come is an infinitely complex and variegated picture, the elements of
which can be reduced to their respective tertia comparationis (p. 291).

Jung‘s approach focused on the analogous symbols, both through a client‘s subjective

symbolic analogies and an analyst‘s objective ones. The outcome is a better understand-

ing of the potential meanings of an unconscious content, and possibly a fuller ―picture‖ of
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the invisible archetype towards which the symbols point. The final reduction leads to a

psychological interpretation that distills the language of myth and metaphor into a prac-

tical form that can be of benefit to a client.

Just as Ricour‘s hermeneutics are those of ―suspicion‖ and ―affirmation,‖ Jung‘s

hermeneutics could be said to be of resonance and meaning. These Jungian modes of

interpretation are captured by Campbell‘s first and second functions of myth, above.

Through Jung‘s hermeneutical reading of the unconscious, one recognizes archetypal

contents through a numinous resonance with the material, as well as by a sense of

grounding and meaning that the material is felt to provide. As Jung colloquially put it in a

seminar, either ―it clicks, or it does not click‖ (in Hannah, 2006, p. 225).

One does not just find any myth through Jung‘s hermeneutics; rather, one finds

one‘s own myth, a personal myth that feeds and moves one, for any myth that does not do

these things one cannot truly know. This method does not help resuscitate dead or dying

myths without, but only myths that are felt to be alive within. Whether they come in the

form of a dream or an imaginary image, or a film or a mass movement, we are exposed to

a numinous aspect of our own psyche, one that beckons and calls us to action. The term

numinous, as Hollis (2004) noted, ―comes from the metaphor ‗to nod,‘ as something that

bows towards us, acknowledges us, summons us‖ (p. 7). Through any true ―living‖ myth

we are so called.

Amplification

Jung called his hermeneutic method for interpreting the meaning of archetypal

contents, such as those found in myths, amplification. Jung (2008) defined amplification

as a process through which one may ―amplify an existing image until it becomes visible‖
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(p. 26), in order to discover what it ―says‖ (p. 238). He believed that archetypal images

contain all the information that is required to interpret them, thus directing researchers to

―keep it very simple and stick to the image‖ in order to search only for symbols that

directly relate to it (p. 332). As Jung (1954) stated, ―interpretation must guard against

making use of any other viewpoints than those manifestly given by the content itself‖ (p.

88). Berry (1974) also warned us to stay with the image, because narrative or interpre-

tation all too easily ―tends to become the ego‘s trip‖ (p. 102). In other words, sticking to

the image keeps our ego away from the possibility of heroic inflation, as any contact with

―the gods‖ can incite. It is important to remember that, as so many fairy tales remind us,

it is all too often the innocent fool who finds the secret treasure, the way ahead, or the

solution to the problem, rather than the dashing prince.

While archetypes are transpersonal in nature, their images usually contain

personal content. Jung called the images of the archetypes imagos to denote their

admixture of personal and archetypal information. These imagos are the product of a

process wherein our unconscious minds cobble together images based upon both the

archetype seeking expression and the external images we meet in our lives. This explains

how the archetypal images of gods with similar characteristics can and do change

dramatically in appearance throughout different geographical regions and historical

times. Imagos are thus both personal and transpersonal at once; they say as much about

the individuals and cultures that produce them as the archetypes they represent.

In other words, even though archetypes are collective, all representations of them

are, to some extent, individual and personal. Each representative image is, to some extent,

idiosyncratic to the individual psyche that creates it, and each therefore carries a personal
 91

meaning. An understanding of what archetypal images mean can be assisted by directly

questioning the individuals who produced them to ascertain with what they personally

associated each aspect of them. Jung (2008) called this method personal, or subjective,

amplification (p. 27). The strength of this approach is that interviewing the person who

produced an image is undoubtedly the most direct way to learn something of what the

specific image symbolically represents. But individuals are not always available, willing,

or even capable of articulating their symbolic associations, and because image comes

from the unconscious, the associations that can unlock the meaning of an archetypal

image may not even be consciously known by the individual who produced it.

Jung (1969c) also believed that one can also attempt to discover the meaning of

archetypal images through a process of seeking their symbolic parallels, i.e., through

using an approach of comparative symbolism (p. 323). Jung (1980) compared this

method to the way philologists use parallel text passages in a known language as a key to

deciphering an unknown language (p. 83). Unconscious archetypal contents, Jung stated,

―always contain a piece of mythology that cannot be interpreted by mere questioning and

personal amplification‖ (2008, p. 28). Jung called this method of objectively discovering

the meaning of archetypal images through their symbolic equivalents objective amplifica-

tion (Jacobi, 1942, p. 106).

Yet Jung was also critical of a purely objective approach to an archetypal repre-

sentation. He (1980) believed that a totally intellectual approach would merely transcribe

an archetypal image into a mythological language, thereby stopping short of uncovering

its psychological meaning. He thus proposed the interpretation of archetypal contents

through the feelings they evoke, suggesting that researchers or therapists attempt to put
 92

themselves into the ―atmosphere‖ of the narrative and work towards ―identifying the

feeling values, not only the meanings‖ (2008, p. 157). Because archetypal contents are

collective, they have the potential to resonate deeply within every one of us (Hollis, 2000,

p. 62).

All efforts to become conscious of these transpersonal factors that affect us from

within are steps towards the psyche‘s health, balance, and growth. As outlined above, it is

by attending to the numinous archetypes that we have access to our specific and collec-

tive instructions towards individuation and growth. Collective representations of the

archetypes ―have portrayed psychic processes of transformation since the earliest times‖

(Jung, 1969a, p. 41), as they still do today, even as many of us are challenged to discover

new representations that beckon us towards new psychological growth.

Jung’s Method of Amplification

As suggested above, our unconscious psyche could be said to ―think‖ in the

images and motifs of myth. Jung‘s method of amplification could thus be called a means

of adopting and applying a form of ―mythic‖ vision in order to interpret and understand

its symbols. Jung himself (1980) described amplification as a method for seeking

symbolic parallels (p. 83), or as a way of interpreting and psychologically transcribing

such products of the unconscious as dreams.

In a recently published seminar, Children‟s Dreams: Notes from the Seminar

Given in 1936-1940, Jung (2008) described his method of dream amplification as a four-

step process16 (pp. 380-381) following the generic form of classical drama, i.e., the

structure that theatrical plays have followed throughout history. As Jung observed, ―the

16
Jung slightly modified his method of dream interpretation over the four years of the seminar. The method
outlined here is based on the summary he provided at the beginning of his seminar‘s final year.
 93

dream is a drama taking place on an inner stage, and a true drama of course always had—

like any course of action—a beginning, middle, and an end‖ (p. 380). The first step

outlines the general dramatic structure of the dream, the exposition, development,

perpetia, and lysis. The exposition describes the beginning, or ―set up,‖ of the dream by

providing an overview of some of its main factors, such as its characters, setting, time,

and initial problem or conflict. The development is the middle part of the dream, a

problem that emerges and is addressed, or when, as Jung colloquially expressed it, ―the

plot thickens‖ (p. 380). The perpetia refers to the escalation, or climax, of the problem, in

which something occurs or a change takes place. The lysis describes the end, or potential

result, which can often be a new problem. Unlike classical dramas, dreams can be frag-

mentary, and they may not include a perpetia or lysis, in contrast to films, which usually

include all four parts.

Once the structuring is done, Jung‘s second step directs the researcher to consider

the corresponding subjective context for each dream motif (2008, p. 381). One must look

for personal associations to each dream image and motif, such as the location, time

period, or any other detail of its positioning. One can also examine each content in rela-

tion to the dream figures, for Jung considered each of these to personify a specific aspect

of the psyche (Harding, 1965, p. 74). Jung‘s second step requires a researcher to seek to

discover specifically if a personal context can be found for each dream content; for this

step to be successful, dreamers must be amenable and capable of describing their own

personal associations.

If a collective, archetypal context can also be uncovered for a specific dream

image or motif, then a third step can take place. This step requires a researcher to search
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for symbolic and mythological parallels that are synonymous with the dream images. As

Jung (2008) explained, ―the archetypes always appear as mythological figures or motifs‖

(p. 382). While understanding personal associations is dependent on the dreamer, the

ability to uncover mythological motifs requires an interpreter to search for comparative

symbols, a method that Jung (1969b) described as ―comparative symbology‖ (p. 239).

This step thus uses metaphors as data. As Jung discovered, a set of symbols that relate to

the process of individuation comes from alchemy. Following the title of one of Jung‘s

works, Edinger (1985) called them ―symbols of transformation,‖ for ―they provide basic

categories on which to understand the life of the psyche, and they illustrate almost the full

range of experiences that constitute individuation‖ (p. 15).17

Another means to approach this third step is, as noted above, phenomeno-

logically, a process in which one may become aware of an experience of inner resonance

of meaning and emotion (Hollis, 2004, p. 22). Because archetypes are collective, we all

may experience something of their numinous affects. Woodman (1993) described this as

a kind of consciousness that is felt ―in the gut‖ (p. 14). As Jung observed, ―the protean

mythologem and the shimmering symbol express the processes of the psyche far more

trenchantly than the clearest concept, for the symbol not only conveys a visualization of

the process, but—and this is perhaps just as important—it also brings a re-experiencing

of it‖ (Jung, 1967a, p. 162). This re-experiencing is more of a feminine, experiential

mode that understands through empathy and relationship, rather than a masculine mode

17
This does not mean that each step along the way is easy. Edinger stated that ―each of the alchemical
operations has a lesser and greater aspect, just as it has a positive and negative side‖ (p. 79). In other words,
each can lead to either a temporary or a permanent solution to the problem it is attempting to solve, and
each encounter will not always be easy. Indeed, because we may unconsciously repress, or consciously
suppress, what our egos consider to be negative, our individuation may require a wounding encounter with
a witch even more than any positive encounter with a goddess.
 95

that attempts to discern through discrimination. In other words it intuitively knows by

relating to living wholes, rather than by severing and cataloguing constituent parts.18

Jung‘s (2008) fourth step is to formulate ―a hypothesis about the possible meaning

of the dream‖ (p. 382). In this step the resulting associative material is distilled into a

concise narrative that will explain the dream‘s psychological meaning (p. 239). This is

accomplished by interpreting what the contents symbolically represent, and then inserting

this interpretation into the narrative in its stead.

While this summation concludes Jung‘s four-step process, a possible additional

step is to attempt to verify one‘s interpretation of a dream by comparing it to the dreams

that precede or follow it (p. 239). Dreams often come in a series, and, to the extent that

the conscious position that triggered a compensatory dream is not corrected, a dreamer‘s

psyche may continue to provide comparable compensatory images and motifs in the

dreams that follow. Paying attention to repeating images and themes can help verify

previous interpretations, as well as bring forth further data that can help clarify and

consolidate interpretations.

Jung did not see the goal of amplification as merely an attempt to discover the

symbolic parallels for every archetypal image or motif, but rather as an effort to view the

entire dataset as if it were a myth. As Jung (1969a) explained this, ―in describing the

living processes of the psyche, I deliberately and consciously give preference to a

dramatic, mythological way of thinking and speaking, because this is not only more

expressive but also more exact‖ (p. 13). Similarly, the method of this dissertation is to

attempt to view the film in a mythological way. Its goal is to discover what mythological

18
Put in Jungian typological terms, this more feminine mode could likely be better served through the
functions of feeling and intuition, rather than the so-called rational functions of sensation and thinking.
 96

ideas this film might carry that relate to our contemporary masculine and feminine tasks

of individuation, in order to identify if it carries a potential myth for our time.

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CHAPTER IV: STUDY DESIGN

To recapitulate, just as many traditional religions have fallen in decline and decay

in the Western world, so has much of its rich store of collectively held and recognized

myths (Hollis, 1995, p. 26). With them has gone much of our ready library of data on

humanity‘s archetypal inheritance, data that describe our collective unconscious. Yet as

noted above, the unconscious ―expresses itself mythologically‖ (Jung, 1973, p. 526), and

its archetypes exhibit ―a kind of readiness to produce over and over the same or similar

mythological ideas‖ (1966a, p. 69). In other words, the psyche has not stopped its

compensatory work, but continues to produce new archetypal representations in whatever

form is available, even though today we must look elsewhere for the same information.

Jungian Film Studies

In The Way of the Dream, von Franz (1988) stated that films have become one of

the new forms in which to look for archetypal information:

Movies touch many … essential psychological facts and replace fairy tale
telling and myth telling of former times. Movies are our modern form of
myths and fairy tales and therefore movies, which tell about the inner
world, … are attractive to the public because we really need myths to have
an orientation towards, a mapping out of, the dream world of the uncon-
scious (p. 141).

Woodman (1993) similarly stated:

There are new myths: comic books, science fiction, movies. You would
think that metaphor was obsolete in the culture until you begin to see it
slipping in the back door in so many areas. The human soul is very much
in the imagination, and if you take away the food of the soul (metaphor)
it‘ll come slipping in somewhere else (in Earle, 1993, p. 55).

Yet even though some films may play a role today that used to be reserved for myths, this

does not mean that all movies portray archetypal contents. Even if a film does provide

some archetypal information, it does not mean that the audience will necessarily be aware
 98

of it. In those films that do, the information is encoded in a medium that is also used to

passively entertain rather than to engender consciousness, making it all too easy to miss.

One can easily view an entire film, even one that contains archetypal themes and content,

only to return to daily life no more the wiser. Even the act of creating a film with such

content does not necessarily prove that the filmmakers did so through conscious choice.

Archetypes, by definition, are unconscious, and the creators of a film may not conscious-

ly know what myths they live or unconsciously reproduce.

Jung‘s student and collaborator Marie-Louise Von Franz (1996) stated that ―we

still have the same need and we still crave the same renewal that comes from under-

standing archetypal images‖ (p. 45). Working to rediscover our historic myths that still

have the potential to move us, and learning to recognize new ―myths‖ where they now

appear, such as in popular films, is thus a valuable and necessary task. Von Franz (1996)

applied Jung‘s method of dream amplification to interpret fairy tales,19 noting that it

could also be used to interpret myths because both fairy tales and myths have an arche-

typal structure (p. 27). While von Franz believed that fairy tales ―mirror the basic patterns

of the psyche more clearly‖ than myths (p. 15), she also considered that myths contained

much more ―conscious cultural material‖ than fairy tales (p. 1), and that a myth better

reflected the ―cultural collective consciousness of the nation in which it originated‖

(p.27).

Like traditional myths, some contemporary films reflect information about the

collective culture and the unconscious ―myths‖ that individuals are living in our time. For

example, they may be able to provide individuals with data describing what may be

19
Von Franz was also an active participant in Jung‘s children‘s dreams seminars that I referenced above for
his approach.
 99

collectively holding them back due to their unrecognized cultural inheritance, as well as

to give them a mirror through which to view what Jung (2009) called the ―spirit of the

times‖ (p. 229). This cultural archetypal information is also what Campbell described as

the third function of myth, i.e., it provides a cultural function through which one learns

about the roles and norms of the culture in which one lives.

Depending on the nature of the film, myths also have the potential of providing an

individual with archetypal information that carries a more personally relevant meaning.

To the extent that the content of films resonates within individuals with a numinous

quality and meaning, they can also tell them something about their inner, and larger,

selves. This describes Campbell‘s fourth function of myth, for it could potentially be used

to enable individuals to discover something of the mysteries of their own personal myths,

or what Jung (2009) called the ―spirit of the depths‖ (p. 229).

To the extent that a film is embellished with cultural information, a researcher

needs to sift through it in order to find its archetypal layers and instructions. If one

discovers information that resonates with emotion or meaning, one may have found a

carrier of one‘s projected personal myth. To the extent that it also resonates with others,

one has found a collective myth. In either case, it could also be called a ―living‖ myth.

Choice of Data

Not all dreams contain and reflect archetypal, and therefore collective, content.

Jung believed that most dreams contain idiosyncratic contents of the personal uncon-

scious. Those that contain archetypal contents Jung (1969d) called ―big‖ dreams, in order

to highlight the fact that they are usually accompanied by collective, transpersonal mean-

ings and large numinous affects (p. 293). Not all films contain archetypal contents either,
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but many may contain some mythic elements; furthermore, some rare ones, often desig-

nated as ―art films,‖ can even be considered myths in the full meaning of the term. The

film that this dissertation interprets, Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004), could be said to fall

somewhere in between commercial films and art films. Although it is a film that could be

said to contain many archetypal, or ―mythic,‖ elements, it is also a film that was created

to entertain a broad, worldwide audience.20

At the same time, Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) certainly has a large complement

of artistic elements. Animation is not only a creative form in itself—that is, not a form

that only mechanically captures the outer reality to which it is pointed—but it is a form in

which the content of each frame is produced, and thus mediated, by a subjective human

consciousness. Even during a time when computer-generated imagery (CGI) has become

the norm, Miyazaki stated that less ten percent of the frames were computer-generated

(Brooks, 2005). In other words, the bulk of the 148,786 animation sheets used in the film

were hand-produced by Miyazaki‘s staff (Searleman, 2004, p. 13).

While the film‘s images, from storyboard to final product, were overseen by one

director, Miyazaki, who had a clear artistic vision for the film, it also incorporated the

creative insights of, and suggestions from, many others tasked with producing the art and

the animation (Searleman, 2004). The production staff of the film included two art direc-

tors, one who drew most of the concept art for the interior spaces and another who

created most of the natural settings of the ―wastes‖ (p. 49). Together they supervised the

twenty illustrators who worked on the film‘s backgrounds. The personnel also included

three supervising animators, who managed the work of over one hundred animation staff

20
While its collective appeal is explained in greater detail below, as of August 30, 2014, Boxofficemojo.
com listed Howl‟s Moving Castle‟s (2004) global box office, i.e., its worldwide ticket sales, at $235.2
million.
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(p. 254). The process of producing this animated feature was not only Miyazaki‘s own,

but something of a large, collective activity. This complex authorship may even have

increased the potential for the inclusion of archetypal details; indeed, the production of

such a film may even have been something of a myth-making process in itself.

Jung stated that, in order to be able to work with archetypal dreams, ―one has to

have the corresponding material at one‘s fingertips‖ (p. 382). In other words, one has to

know something about archetypal representations in order to recognize them, and this

relates not only to working on dreams but also to choosing materials to work on. It was

through recognizing something of their archetypal content that led Jung to choose

specific dreams, visions, and texts to interpret during his own lifetime.

Similarly, for this dissertation I chose to work on Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004)

after first recognizing some of its archetypal content. I saw that the main character was

initially, i.e., at the beginning of the film, stuck on the cusp of a major life transition, and

I also realized that, by the end of the film, the problem of transition had been resolved.

Because major life transitions, i.e., rites of passage and processes of initiation, are a

contemporary problem for many of us who live outside a religious community and faith, I

believed that a deeper analysis of the film might be useful in providing potential informa-

tion for those individuals who may find themselves similarly stuck.

Using Jungian theory to interpret film is not a new idea. Jungian theory is particu-

larly suited to film studies, and many individuals have written articles, books, and

dissertations on the subject.21 Hauke and Hockley (2011) noted in their second collection

of articles on the subject, Jung & Film II, The Return, that Jungian scholarship on film

21
For examples of edited collections, see Hauke & Alister (2001), or Hauke & Hockley (2011); or, for
examples of a book or a dissertation, see Izod (2001), or Nichols (2010), respectively.
 102

has ―accelerated‖ since the turn of the 21st century (p. 11). Jungian theory has even

influenced the development of film through an attempt to consciously portray archetypal

themes, such as the infamous influence of Campbell‘s mythologem of the hero‘s journey

that was consciously included by Lucas in his script for Star Wars (1975) (Lyden, 2003,

p. 217). Indeed, given that film, like any art form, is a medium that captures and reflects

something of the unconscious projections of its creators, whether cultural or archetypal,

Jungian theory and method are particularly suited for the task.

The theme of individuation in film is also not new. Fredericksen (2005) even went

so far as to state that, ―in the absence of communal rites of passage,‖ film can even play a

role as a filmmaker‘s ―self-chosen medium for self-initiation‖ (p. 36), i.e., as a repre-

sentation of personal myths and therefore as instructions for a filmmaker‘s own

individuation process. At the same time, the value of interpreting a potential new collec-

tive myth of individuation for our time is certainly also no less valuable, especially if it is

a myth that invites and assists individuals to become more conscious of their inner

contrasexual elements.

In his article ―Anima in Film,‖ Beebe (2001) suggested that one value provided

by some films is a ―more or less stable guise‖ through which to view the anima ―over

time‖ (p. 212). In a similar vein, Beebe also noted that film itself can be a medium onto

which a director can project, and thereby discover, his own anima (p. 223). I agree that

viewing the anima like this can be personally therapeutic for a man making a film, and it

may also assist the viewer in understanding something of male psychology and neurosis

by viewing it (p. 213), yet if we attempt instead to view anima as a representative of the

archetypal feminine it can provide even more.

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The anima, as a representative of the archetypal feminine, can be entirely trans-

personal. It need not be seen as representative of any aspect of the filmmaker, or indeed

represent a filmmaker of any single gender, but following Jung it could instead be an

entirely creative, transpersonal vision much like a visionary dream. As a character in a

film, the anima may be able to play a compensatory role to help balance any consciously

masculine individual psyche, or indeed the collective masculine-biased Western culture

we inhabit. It may, therefore, open us up to a new representation we can each discover,

thus potentially forming something of a bridge to the Self for us all.

Even though feminism has made great strides in tackling many of the wrongs that

over two millennia of patriarchal dominance in the Western world has committed, a

Jungian approach could potentially foster the bringing of consciousness to the task of

identifying and balancing our masculine and feminine natures. In so doing, it may be able

to create a potential opening through which to learn how to integrate these energies into

the necessary task of individuation. For this task, I believe that Howl‟s Moving Castle

(2004) provides a specific, and, therefore, a particularly valuable, example.

Method and Purpose

This method of this dissertation follows Jung‘s (2008) instructions on, and appli-

cation of, his method of objective amplification from his Children‟s Dreams seminars

held in Zurich between 1936 and 1940. Jung based his instructions on how to interpret

dreams on the structure and elements of ―classical dramas,‖ i.e., plays that have been put

on since ancient times. Jung noted that dreams and plays share a similar narrative struc-

ture: ―The dream is a drama taking place on an inner stage, and … always has—like any

course of action—a beginning, middle, and end‖ (p. 380). Both usually revolve around a
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conflict and its resolution, often including scenes and characters, and images and motifs.

Because classical plays and films share much in the way of form and structure, in many

ways Jung‘s method of amplification fits contemporary films just as well as dreams.

Yet one way that Jung‘s method of amplification does not fit as well, especially

the way that he practiced it, is in the greater length of films than dreams. Dreams, and

especially children‘s dreams that were remembered from childhood by adults, are, when

written down, usually shorter than a page in length. Von Franz also applied Jung‘s

method to interpret fairy tales, but most fairy tales are usually only a small number of

pages in length as well. Films are much longer; Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004), for

example, is over two hours in duration, and its script is 42 pages alone (Searleman,

2004). Thus I am slightly modifying Jung‘s method in order to make adjustments for

length.

Jung‘s approach to dreams was to begin with an open mind, letting the images

and motifs lead the interpretation. This is a good method for dreams, because they are

wholly produced by the unconscious and do not contain the conscious embellishments of

creative products such as films. As von Franz (1996) stated, ―in myths, legends, or any

more elaborate mythological material [such as films], we get at the basic patterns of the

psyche through a lot of cultural material‖ (p. 15). Thus while sticking to the image works

well for dreams, film interpretation requires a way to limit the material.

Because the main theme in the film is Howl‘s life transition, I focused on data that

describe, and provide context to, his specific problem and its solution. Coming from the

perspective of Howl‘s transformation, I consider the entire contents of the film, including

its characters, to reflect aspects of Howl‘s individuating psyche. In this way I interpret the
 105

film as if it were a compensatory ―dream,‖ i.e., as if it were the product of the uncon-

scious self-regulating, and growth- and wholeness-oriented, aspect of a single psyche.

Let me make an acknowledgment here: Even in choosing Howl‟s Moving Castle

(2004), I applied a summary interpretation. As I wrote above, I chose this film because I

recognized that one of its themes is Howl‘s transition from one stage of life to the next;

i.e., a successful individuation process, and I made this theme the main focus of my

dissertation. In other words, I used it to limit both the data to be interpreted and the

variety of interpretations that could be made. It could be said that I applied a kind of

triage approach to the film through which to highlight information to be interpreted. I

based this approach on the information that reflects different aspects of Campbell‘s four

functions of myth, i.e., on contents that carry numinosity and meaning, and that portray

cultural and individual instructions towards psychological growth and change. Applying

my summary interpretation imposed a pre-existing limit on the data, one that might

potentially weed out valuable aspects of the film, just as triage can potentially deny help

to patients in need of it. At the same time, this approach also ensures that what is chosen

can receive the attention that it requires.

Put simply, the primary purpose and goal of this dissertation were to analyze

Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) in order to determine if the challenges that beset Howl and

Sophie, and their means of responding to them, can shed any light on the masculine and

feminine tasks of individuation that similarly challenge us all. Because this film revolves

around Howl‘s problem of initiation, this dissertation treats the film as a case study in

which to explore specifically Howl‘s solution to the problem; thus it treats both charac-

ters as aspects of the same individuating psyche.

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Steps

The method used in this dissertation follows three of Jung‘s four steps of amplifi-

cation as described above. Its first step approaches the film as ―a classical drama‖ by

describing the film‘s exposition, development, perpetia, and lysis. Its second step

describes the archetypal content, i.e., the ―myth,‖ of the film, including its symbolic and

mythological parallels. Its third step provides a psychological interpretation of the

archetypal information.

In the examples from the method described and used in Jung‘s (2008) Children‟s

Dreams seminars, and von Franz‘s (1996) application of it to fairy tales, the first step was

usually kept short. It ordinarily provided only a brief description of the data as a classical

drama in order to furnish a reference point to help focus the resulting interpretation.

While I use the same step, in this dissertation I provide a much longer explication of each

character in order to bring greater context to the interpretation. Foreshadowing the

characters like this enables me to suggest particular aspects of the psyche they may

represent. Establishing the characters like this further allows me to focus specifically on

the changes and growth the characters go through in the following steps. I also begin by

describing the setting and context to a greater extent than Jung or von Franz, and for

similar purpose.

This study does not apply Jung‘s usual second step, addressing the personal

associations of the sources of the data, because they are not readily available. Most

contemporary, international, high-budget films have many individuals, such as writers,

producers, and directors, who influence their content throughout the course of their

development. Information that tracks these inputs would not only be very difficult to
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gather, but would undoubtedly be incomplete. Personal associations, while helpful, are

not absolutely necessary for interpretation. This step was also not possible in Jung‘s

Children‟s Dreams seminars: The dreamers were children, and their dreams were from

long ago (2008, p. 237). In these cases, as he instructed his participants, ―dreams can be

sufficiently explained by an exclusively objective method, without personal associations‖

(p. 30).

In other words, when personal amplification is not possible, Jung believed that a

search for symbolic and mythological parallels alone can provide an alternative and

objective means through which to gain an understanding of archetypal contents (Jung,

2008, p. 239). For example, Jung (1967b) employed such an objective approach to

interpret an individual‘s visions based only on written transcripts in his Symbols of

Transformation. Similarly von Franz (1996) employed Jung‘s method of objective

amplification to interpret fairy tales, all of which are not attributable to any single author.

In order to do this, one must still seek to understand the specific content and context of

each image or motif. Because archetypal contents are not static, but, as previously noted,

describe energy systems that ―illustrate almost the full range of experiences that consti-

tute individuation‖ (Edinger, 1985, p. 15), objective amplification can also include

comparative symbol systems referring to psychological processes such as alchemy. Thus,

when personal associations were not available, a search for symbolic and mythological

parallels describes the third step in Jung‘s amplification process.

Jung‘s final, or fourth, step in the case of material in which personal associations

were not possible, was to translate these interpretations into psychological language so

that their psychological implications could be understood. Both Jung and his followers
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usually conducted these steps of amplification and psychological interpretation in tan-

dem, in a process that chronologically followed the narrative being interpreted; because

they were often preceded by summaries of the material being interpreted such those by

von Franz (1992) and Johnson (1989), they often read much like a commentary. I follow

a similar approach by summarizing Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) into a narrative prior to

each section of amplification and interpretation.

Like Jung‘s children‘s dreams seminars, personal associations are not readily

available for Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004). Thus my second and third steps are to

amplify the material objectively and translate the interpretation psychologically. Like

Jung, in this dissertation these steps are conducted in tandem, as a commentary that

follows the chronological order of the data. Put simply, my second and third steps, which

attempt to understand what the film‘s archetypal contents may mean symbolically, are

arranged to translate these interpretations into what they may mean psychologically.

Related to this third step is verification. Since this film is not part of a series, one

cannot, as Jung (2008) suggested in regard to dreams, verify dream interpretations by

comparing them to later dreams (p. 239); instead, my interpretations analyze the material

throughout the film itself for comparative images wherever possible. Studio Ghibli

(2004), which originally produced the film in Japanese, also produced an English lan-

guage book containing information on the film that includes the script, pre-and post-

production artwork, and interviews with many of the individuals who contributed to its

production. While secondary to the film itself, this book is also used to provide additional

corroborating information when possible, as well as occasional details that the film lacks,

to assist interpretation.
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When it comes to psychotherapy, Jung would have included an additional step for

the dreamers to attempt to incorporate the information gleaned through the process into

their lives. In his popular book on interpreting dreams, Inner Work, Johnson (1986) did

include such an additional step, describing its purpose as to ―integrate your dream into

your own conscious, waking life‖ (p. 97). I similarly endeavor, as a fourth step, to facili-

tate such an integration of the material in this dissertation. While Johnson‘s means of

accomplishing this step is for a different audience from mine, i.e., for those working on

their own dreams, my fourth step similarly endeavors to collect and consolidate the

psychological information gleaned and then to apply it to the problems of individuation

in our time. Such information may be able to help us psychologically to understand

something of the problem that Howl faces, in the hope that it might shed some light on

similar problems that some of us may face today, both within our culture and within

ourselves. It is also my hope that a psychological interpretation of the solution to Howl‘s

problems might similarly help individuals to envision some new solutions for the collec-

tive and individual problems that affect us in our time.

In sum, I have interpreted this film as if it were a dream or a myth, treating all of

its characters, and all of its motifs, as representing factors within a single psyche. Follow-

ing Jung, I use a three-step approach to analyze the film as if it were a classical drama, by

describing its components and parts, by symbolically interpreting its images and motifs,

and by translating the resulting interpretations psychologically. Unlike Jung, my

approach describes the set-up of the film in greater length, in order better to focus the

discussion at the outset. It also limits the discussion to only those interpretations that

directly refer to individuation. In order to provide context for the analysis, I also follow
 110

the example of those Jungians who have based their commentaries on literary texts by

preceding their interpretation with a brief summary of the data being discussed. In this

case, I precede my analysis with a summary of each section of the film that will be

examined, along with a screen shot.

This study concludes in an attempt to consolidate the psychological information

that was gathered, group it into stages that illuminate Howl‘s journey, and translate it into

a narrative that psychologically describes an individuation process. Put another way, this

section could be described as an attempt to translate the film into a narrative that captures

a new and contemporary myth of individuation, one that may be potentially relevant in

our time. It ends by discussing one theme that was specifically identified: the relevance

of the feminine to the task of individuation.

The ―psyche‖ that the data describe could be considered either a single male indi-

vidual or an individual representation of the collective ―masculine‖ in our time, whether

it is found within man or woman. In either case it is a psyche that is in crisis, and thus in

need of reconciliation with, and assistance from, a feminine element.

Limits of the Study

As stated above, the book on which Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) was based was

written by a British woman, then altered significantly when it was turned by a Japanese

man into a Japanese film. Then the script was altered again when it was dubbed into the

English language in California. I have chosen to interpret the film psychologically as

something akin to a world myth or a collective dream, thus through a specifically Jungian

archetypal lens. Just as Western civilization could be said to have a global influence and

reach, problems related to its culture, such as that of instructions on how to navigate life‘s
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transitions towards one‘s individuation, can also be seen as a global problem that affects

all individuals. An archetypal approach is well suited to discovering if there are common

psychological factors and solutions to this problem.

This approach is certainly not the only one that could be taken by researchers, or

that could be of potential use to a reader. For example, this film could easily lend itself to

political, sociological, or historical analyses, and these approaches or others could also

provide potentially relevant information for issues and individuals in our time. I have,

however, chosen an archetypal approach in order to discover if the film may contain

information that relates to the problem of individuation in our time; in addition, because

archetypes are unconscious, we may find specific information of which we may other-

wise be both personally and collectively unconscious.

In other words, the purpose of this dissertation is not to provide an exhaustive

analysis of the film, but to discover and analyze contents that provide data for a specific

goal. In order to keep this study focused, I have attempted to restrict discussion about the

film only to those images and motifs that specifically relate to this goal. I also attempt to

limit discussion only to (a) representative data rather than all pertinent data, and (b)

interpretations that are somehow directly suggested by the data themselves, rather than

merely inferred.22 Following Jung‘s example, I have translated each scene into a written

narrative, both to locate the reader within the appropriate section of the film and to assist

in its psychological interpretation. Even though my interpretation is not strictly limited to

my narrative, because it follows the film as well, the narrative does provide something of

a coarse filter that may further limit data, especially of a visual nature.

22
I.e., objectively amplified rather than freely associated.
 112

Limiting the data in this way differs from Jung‘s (2008) application of his method

of objective amplification, as he used it to amplify dreams in his 1936-1940 Children‟s

Dreams seminars. Yet due to the extensive amount of potentially relevant data and

comparative associative material that even one feature-length film can contain, limiting

the data is a necessary step. Even in the case of children‘s dreams, Jung (2008) stated:

You have to restrict the material to the bare essentials; we have to think of
the poor audience that will get completely drunk…. We have to stay as
near the material as possible. Otherwise we will have an enormous balloon
that will take us over countries and peoples, until we finally don‘t know
where we took off and how to find our way back home (p. 404).

Even though limiting data can be necessary, each limitation of course increases

the chances of potentially missing relevant information. The contents of an entire film,

just as the contents of an entire dream, are interconnected and interrelated, so any limita-

tions on data may result in the loss of some information even if is not immediately

obvious. Limiting this interpretation of the film to data only about individuation may

result in losing some valuable particulars.

At the same time, the length of any film is also, of course, a limiting factor. Not

only can the length overwhelm a researcher with data, as Jung suggested above, but

interpretation also requires data that are not only relevant, but also specific and poten-

tially understandable. The researcher must somehow be able to relate to the data, either

objectively through the functions of sensation or thinking, or subjectively through the

functions of feeling and intuition, as well as to interpret and explain the information

symbolically, and finally to translate it into psychological language. For any verification

to take place, it must have sufficient detail to warrant the interpretation, or require data

that in some fashion repeat themselves. With dreams, comparative symbolic content can
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appear in future dreams, but, unless films are made in a series, verification through

repetition is limited only to a film‘s running time, and to a finite number of frames.

I am also, and indeed mostly, limited by my own abilities. Individuals are only

able to recognize those archetypes with which they are familiar, or to discover those that

may appear as numinous or otherwise meaningful, i.e., that meet the first two of

Campbell‘s functions of myth. Archetypal contents, while always unconscious, get buried

within accrued personal experiences in the form of one‘s own complexes, making them

all the more difficult to recognize and identify.

I cannot help but be a product of our times, and my education reflects our contem-

porary bias towards objective data and analysis. The world‘s mythologies are more

undervalued today than when Jung received his education. At the turn of the twentieth

century, a classical education usually contained exposure to ancient Greek and Roman

mythology. Today, mythology is rarely taught unless as part of an advanced university

degree. My education is no exception, and, like many individuals today, I have had a

more limited exposure to myths, and mythic traditions, than my forebears. Even so, I

have attempted to remedy this as much as possible by identifying and incorporating a

―mythic‖ methodology, if you will, i.e., a psychological, and a specifically archetypal,

lens through which to attempt to view and analyze this material.

In Jung‘s system of psychological types, we each have a primary function, the

psychological function we come to use habitually, along with three progressively less

differentiated functions. Our least differentiated function, which he called our inferior

function, is the one of which we are least conscious. Von Franz (1996), who suggested

that each function has different strengths and weaknesses in regard to interpretation,
 114

stated that ―the more you have differentiated your functions, the better you can interpret‖

(p. 15). My primary function is intuition, and my second most differentiated type is

feeling. This means that I am probably less capable in, and less likely to lead with, my

inferior sensation function. Even so, we all share such weaknesses related to our

psychological types. Von Franz suggested that the best one can do to remedy this is to

―circumambulate a story as much as possible with all four functions‖ in order to attempt

to discover those aspects that do not automatically come to our attention (p. 15).

When it comes to recognizing subjective information, some of these weaknesses

can also be strengths. The archetypal contents that are most likely to resonate within

oneself, holding both a numinous emotional charge and a felt sense of inner meaning

(Campbell‘s first two functions of myth), are those that are relevant to one‘s current stage

of psychological growth. This information resonates, because it holds great interest for

our psyche, and we can find it in the compensatory images and motifs in our dreams. We

can also discover it in our compensatory projections in the world around us, such as in

the characters and narratives within films like Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004).

That I chose to work on the topic of individuation, and that this topic resonates

within me, have much to do with the fact that I am working on these very things myself.

Indeed, perhaps most indicative of my limitation as a researcher is the fact that I chose a

topic that I feel is meaningful and resonant, for it likely indicates that I am in that

developmental stage myself and have much to learn about it still. If I had all of its

information already, it would not hold so much energy for me. While we all see through a

vision that is limited by our own subjectivity, it is especially so when we are projecting

inner contents upon it, and are thus in what Freud and Jung called a transference with it.
 115

An example of this occurs when individuals fall so deeply in love that they enter into

such an extreme state of projection and merged identification that their objectivity is, to

some extent, compromised. At the same time, because one‘s projection could not hold

unless there were something in the object that catches it, transference sometimes provides

an uncanny route to allow one to discover some detail that others might overlook. As

Jung (1966b) stated, the object must have something of ―a hook‖ in order to capture the

projection (p. 291), even if one may be in too much of an unconscious identification, or

participation mystique, to know it at the time.

A topic like this could, therefore, be said to reflect my own stage of psychological

development, and my own transference with the subject, every bit as much as it is about

the subject itself. At the same time, if I did not in some way suffer some limits to my

psychological development and conscious awareness, I might have less ability to discover

much about it at all. The value of my methodology is that it provides some necessary

structure within my own subjectivity, providing something of an objective means to

interpret symbolically its archetypal information. At the same time, my subjectivity pro-

vides much of the means to discover which contents have the ability to move and inspire,

thus carrying the necessary psychic energy to drive psychic change.

I have, therefore, both weaknesses and strengths that limit and enable my abilities,

and sometimes these are even the same things. I am also, of course, limited by other, and

more obvious, factors, such as my age (forty-nine); gender (male); and culture (Cana-

dian); and these are by no means small limitations with regard to approaching a narrative

written by a British woman that has been significantly altered by a Japanese man, among

others. The limits of this dissertation are, therefore, very much limits of my own. It is my
 116

hope that other researchers, each with their own strengths and weaknesses, may be able to

identify, and correct for, some of the gaps in my subjective knowledge and ability that I

cannot see. It is also my hope that these same individuals might find here something of

value that they might be able to use in their own work, just as I have been inspired by,

and used the work of, so many before.

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CHAPTER V: STRUCTURE AND CHARACTERS

As described above, ―classical dramas‖ or other narratives can be basically

divided into four parts: an exposition, development, perpetia, and lysis. Following Jung‘s

(2008) application of his method in his Children‟s Dreams seminars, and von Franz‘s

(1996) application of it in The Interpretation of Fairy Tales, I begin by briefly using this

general approach to describe the structure of the film in order both to orient the reader

and to ground the discussion to come. I then discuss the setting of the film, focusing

specifically on its time and place, before providing a summary of the characters.

Exposition

The exposition is what von Franz (1996) called the ―set up‖ of the narrative

(1996). It describes the central conflict or around which the plot revolves. Titles of films,

like those of literature, myths, and fairy tales, often summarize or capture something of

this central problem. The title ―Howl‘s Moving Castle,‖ for example, captures three

points about the film: it names the central character, Howl; it describes a central location

and factor within the setting and plot (his castle); and it hints at something of its problem

when it states that the castle ―moves.‖ In the film, Howl is a young wizard, which the

viewer can take to mean that he is able to channel magical powers from a secret source.

In Jungian psychological terms, this unknown and unnamed source would be the uncon-

scious, the part of the psyche that contains psychic energy beyond that which is under the

ego‘s control.

The Castle

One‘s home, considered as a psychological symbol, could be regarded as a ―repre-

sentative of the psyche as a whole‖ (Baugher, 2007, p. 7). As the image of a structure that
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is a product of human consciousness and effort, rather than natural processes such as a

cave, it could also represent the ego. That Howl‘s home is specifi-cally referred to as a

―castle‖ brings additional detail. The film is set in northern Europe at the turn of the

twentieth century, a setting in which castles still existed, yet had become less used.

Castles suggest an earlier time when they were the traditional, and symbolic, seat of

power for cities, regions, or countries. They also served the role of defensive fortifica-

tions for the leadership, and potentially even for many of the citizens, in the case of

external threat, and they were also usually the home of those with a leadership role in a

region or country, as well as their family members. A castle is, therefore, often a symbol

of power, class, and wealth.

Howl‘s castle could be said to symbolize none of these. It is no seat of geograph-

ical power, for it has no territory to call its own. It also does not look visually impressive,

as if it were built to an overall plan or design. Rather, it appears more as if it were

cobbled together in a hurry. Its materials, such as metal, wood, stone, and tiles, appear as

if scavenged from old structures. In some instances, it looks as if whole sections of

preexisting buildings have been incorporated, ones that appear far more suited to rural

villages than to royalty. It also is made up of mismatched, and ancient-looking, fortifica-

tions, such as turrets that may have been recommissioned from old naval vessels. With its

multiple and mismatched turrets and cannons, and its hammered metal armor, it looks

much more like a hastily built fortress than a castle, as if it was built more for immediate

defense than for any other reason.

That Howl‘s castle moves suggests an additional means of defense, while

explaining other features. Its bottom half is curved like the hull of a ship. Also like a ship
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or other vehicle, it has multiple smokestacks, suggesting not only that it is internally

powered, but that it incorporates technologies that are more contemporary than historic.

But what stands out is its means of movement: like Baba Yaga‘s house, it walks on legs

and feet that look like they were modeled on a bird (Forrester et al., 2013, p. xxvii). With

such features one is left to wonder why it is called a castle at all. It appears to be much

more of a moving fortress than a castle.

Conflict

Howl‘s home requires defenses because he is under threat. He is in conflict with

two women, a sorceress who lives in the center of the kingdom, in the royal palace of the

king, and a witch who lives on the outer fringes of the kingdom, the ―waste.‖ Howl uses

his magical powers mostly to hide from, and stay one step ahead of, these two women.

The film‘s set up, or initial problem, could be called Howl‘s attempt to stave off the

psychological threat that these women symbolically represent, a conflict that is reflected

in the defensive fortification of his home into a castle, and through his magi-cal means of

moving it in order to protect himself from them.

Howl‘s psychological conflict can also be said to be represented at a different, and

far larger, spatial scale, in a war between the kingdom that Howl and the rest of the

characters inhabit and another kingdom that lies somewhere beyond the wastes. Thus two

scales of conflict are portrayed in the film, one on a more personal level between Howl

and two women, and the other at a national, or collective, level. These two scales could

be said to reflect two psychological tasks, the one of relating to the collective, and the

other of relating to one‘s inner self, which could also be said, as described above, to
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capture something of the twin challenges represented by what Jung called the first and

second halves of life.

All of the additional characters in the film have problems of their own. For

example, Sophie, the other main character, has no aspirations of her own beyond dutifully

managing her deceased father‘s hat shop. By taking the characters as personifications of

different aspects of Howl‘s psyche, their problems can also be understood as somehow

related to Howl‘s psychological problem, and thus as factors that may relate to its poten-

tial solution.

Development

As noted above, the development describes the ―ups and downs‖ of the narrative

in which the plot develops and builds towards a climax. Because, analyzed psychologi-

cally, the exposition shows both of the main characters to be developmentally stuck and

unable to transition to a more adult and individual role, the development describes their

ways of working to become conscious of, and to begin to overcome, these problems.

One of the main means of both is facilitated as they come into, and develop, a

relationship with the other, the process of which turns their individual problems into

shared ones. Through her meeting with Howl, Sophie is directly affected by an aspect of

his problem with regard to the spell the Witch of the Waste has put on her. While this

spell propels her out of her childhood home and onto her own developmental path, it also

makes her vulnerable. In order to protect Sophie and face his own challenges, Howl is

forced to come out of hiding and to confront his own problem directly. While it could be

said that each person must ultimately overcome his or her initial problem individually,

because both Howl and Sophie were initially stuck on their own, it could also be said that
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it is only through their assistance to each other, and their unfolding relationship, that each

is somehow able to find a way to grow and change.

Viewed psychologically, if one sees both characters as contrasexual aspects of the

psyche, their relationship could be said to represent visually the dynamic compensating

and self-regulating aspects of the psyche. If this psyche is considered to be Howl‘s own,

as I choose to do, an embodiment of his unconscious contrasexual and compensatory

other, the character of Sophie could also be said specifically to shed light on the normally

unconscious aspect of this dynamic.

Perpetia and Lysis

As also noted above, the perpetia describes the escalation and climax of the

problem or conflict around which the drama revolves, while the lysis describes the

outcome. Because in this film the initial problem is one in which Howl is stuck, and the

development could be said to define the problem in greater detail, the perpetia shows the

moment of change, and the lysis, the outcome. Thus perpetia and lysis together, in this

film, present a potential solution to Howl‘s developmental problem, i.e., his need to

transition into an adult role that is more reflective of his inner, individual nature.

Psychologically, a solution to any outgrown way of life is experienced as a kind

of death to the ego, for the old way has to end for a new one to emerge. Like the myth of

the night sea journey, the sun must plunge into the sea to its metaphorical death before it

is able to rise anew. The night sea journey, the traverse between the sun setting in the

west and the new dawn rising in the east, is a metaphor for a perpetia in which a meta-

phorical journey must be taken through a dark, liminal space where the outcome is

anything but certain. Similarly, Howl must experience a perpetia in which he completely
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lets go of, and ―dies‖ to, his old way of life, in order for a new one to emerge. The lysis

describes the outcome, which in this case is the rebirth of the sun and the emergence of

the new light.

Setting: Time and Place

The film is set in a time and place that are partly real and partly fantasy. It is in

the ―once upon a time‖ that is common to many myths and fairy tales, while at the same

time it also depicts a world that we can, at least partly, recognize. It is, moreover, set in a

place and time where objective reality overlaps with a subjective magical one, and there-

fore in a realm where the rigid lines of history and geography are loosened and blurred.

Time. The film is set at the brief time in which it could be said that the medieval

and modern overlapped, i.e., when horse-pulled carts, steam engine-driven vehicles and

trains, and internal combustion engines powering flying machines all occurred together.

It is also a time period in which few electric technologies are present. While this is remi-

niscent of the early years of the 20th century, many of the specific details are creatively

altered and embellished, and many of the machines, especially the flying ones, are of

types that were never invented. This makes the identification of a specific time period not

really possible.

As von Franz (1996) noted with regard to fairy tales, ―time and place are always

evident because they begin with ‗once upon a time‘ or something similar, which means in

timelessness and spacelessness—the realm of the collective unconscious‖ (p. 39). In

other words, fairy tales specifically alert their audience that they exist in a realm outside

the objective laws of time and space, i.e., outside the outer reality that encompasses one‘s

daily life; instead, they exist within something of the inner, subjective reality that one
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also experiences, such as in one‘s dreams and imagination. Von Franz (1996) stated that

myths are less purely reflective of this subjective archetypal realm than fairy tales are, for

the former often include reflections and elaborations of their cultural milieu.

In this sense, the film Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) is like a myth, for it reflects

something of our common culture, while at the same time it leaves the rigid confines of

time and space through its mixing and blurring of history and geography. All of these

differences similarly alert the viewer that the setting is somehow outside of the conven-

tional outer reality that one experiences through one‘s senses, and within something of a

mythic landscape that one experiences metaphorically through one‘s imagination.

The animation, or anime, itself also alerts the viewer that the film is outside of

objective reality. Animation is not a form that is ordinarily used to depict an objective

realism, for it is very time-consuming to capture the plethora of visual detail that bom-

bard one in the outer world in which we all live. But animation has the advantages of

being able to highlight specific elements of the real world, to forgo others, and to

represent subjective information as easily as objective data. Put another way, it has the

ability to represent the world not only as we see it, but as we experience it, and it can

represent outer, physical reality and inner, archetypal reality together, as occurring at the

same time and in much in the same way as they are represented in dreams and in our

imaginations.

The historical time period in which the film is set is reflected in the subtle use of

colors and the recurring musical score. For example, the colors used in the text of the

opening credits (Figure 2) and the specific shades used to depict the sky and clouds

resemble the watercolors used on First World War propaganda posters. Similarly, the
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musical theme of the film that is introduced during the title sequence is a slow and simple

piano melody that also sounds somehow old and nostalgic. Both indicate to the viewer

that the film represents a past time, one that is partly recognizable but is also lost, i.e.,

something akin to the ―once upon a time‖ that usually heralds the settings of myths,

legends, and fairy tales.

Figure 2: Title sequence at the beginning of the film (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

The ability of the medium of animation simultaneously to represent objective and

subjective reality is used to great advantage in Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004). Even

though much of the setting reflects a time period of the First World War in Europe, many

of its elements, especially in the case of the moving vehicles and flying machines, are

fanciful forms that never occurred in reality. Adding to these are other fantasy elements,

including imaginary creatures, magical spells, and tricks. While all of the realistic image-
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ry and motifs are potentially valuable for a psychological interpretation, the creative,

subjective elements and alterations may be more directly reflective of unconscious, and

potentially archetypal, information.

A mythic or archetypal time is also directly depicted, or indeed personified, in the

changing ages of Sophie. The spell placed on Sophie turns her into an old woman, but

then she changes back and forth between an old woman and a young one, finally ending

up in a mixture of the two. It is also shown in Sophie‘s and Heen‘s travel through time to

Howl‘s childhood. This sequence not only affects the time of the one scene, but even

inverts the linear time of the movie, making Howl‘s immediate connection with Sophie in

their first meeting more understandable. Sophie and Heen not only travel through time,

but through space as well, which is also indicative of a subjective, archetypal reality.

Place. Even though he used imaginative elements, reflecting something of a ―real

world‖ and an objective landscape was important enough to Miyazaki for him to bring

much of his production crew to the historic Alsatian city of Colmar (Searleman, 2004),

which today is part of France. Although Alsace has a long history that goes back to the

Romans and it was once independent, as wars swept through Europe it frequently

changed hands, most recently between France and Germany. That Miyazaki chose this

specific location for part of the film indicates a place and time in which ownership was

anything but certain. Interpreted psychologically, this reflects the potential for a radical

change in identity, and even the threat of possession by an external power. To the extent

that the kingdom in which he lives can be seen as a symbolic depiction of Howl‘s con-

scious, or potentially conscious psyche—i.e., the ego and the personal unconscious23—

23
In other words, the part of the psyche that contains everything with the potential of becoming conscious.
 126

this external power could be said to be one that not only transcends the ego, but that is

related to the archetypal realm of the collective unconscious.

Even though the film reflects something of Alsace, its mixture of realism and

fantasy does not make identifying the exact time period for the film possible. Despite its

references to building styles and technologies, it does not provide many explicit clues to

its time or even to its place. Its overlapping of technologies, such as steam engine-

powered trains and vehicles, horse-drawn carts, and internal combustion engine-powered

flying machines, puts the date of the setting in the early decades of the twentieth century

when these technologies were present; more specifically, the detail of a recruitment

poster on a wall in Sophie‘s home town, modeled on the Alsatian town of Colmar, is

written in German, and the naval crew who are abandoning the ship are wearing German

World War I uniforms. Because Alsace was a part of Germany during World War I, and

because the film also depicts the beginnings of a war, the beginning of World War I is a

likely time period in which to place the setting of the film.

What makes verifying the exact time period difficult is that that, while part of the

setting references Alsace, much of it does not. Sophie‘s hometown, which is not named

in the movie, does match something of Colmar‘s architectural style, but the ―waste,‖ the

mountainous terrain that towers above Sophie‘s hometown, resembles the Alps more than

any of the mountains around Colmar. Porthaven, another town, is by the sea; not only

does it look like a British seaside village, but its shops even display English-language

signs. Kingsbury, the ―royal city,‖ includes no obvious indicators to suggest where it is

located. Its details do not match a real-world location, but its walled city center, the

equestrian statue of an emperor, the Roman-styled palace, and the glass conservatory all
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generally suggest many cities across Europe. At the same time, French elements are also

included, such as references to the artwork of Albert Robida, a French artist from the

same time period (Searleman, 2004, p. 49). For example, the ―flying kayaks‖ that were

incorporated into the film were based on his design. There are also French signs on the

many of the buildings in Sophie‘s hometown.

Summary. Elements in the film suggest many locations and nationalities through-

out Northern Europe, while most elements, such as the flags, are not indicative of any

real countries. While it seems to suggest a timeframe of the beginning of World War 1,

the details of the setting are not specific enough to suggest any real place. This could be

said to allow Miyazaki to use the war and location symbolically, and to encourage the

viewer to see the war as a mythological motif, or mythologem.

Taken psychologically, the settings could all be considered to be a spatial repre-

sentation of Howl‘s psyche. The film‘s location and all of its characters could be said to

portray Howl‘s inner culture, or personality, and therefore something of the develop-

mental state of his psyche. Specifically, these could be said to represent not only his

developmental problem, but also his potential for and resistance to change and growth.

The spatial arrangement of the setting could also be read like a ―map‖ of Howl‘s

psyche. Hillman (1979) reminded the reader that ―images are somewhere, and they have

their own spatial quality‖ (p. 188). All aspects of the setting provide a spatial metaphor,

or context, for the content, and it is not only a backdrop for, but is integral to, the action

that takes place. Hillman even went so far as to suggest that setting is not only relevant,

but primary: ―The fundamental language of depth is neither feelings, nor persons, nor
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time and numbers. It is space. Depth presents itself foremost as psychic structures and

spatial metaphors‖ (p. 188).

That the setting provides a specific context for each and every content within a

dream or film is inarguable. Because setting is a part of the dataset itself, it is also

primary. Amplifying symbols always introduces outside metaphors, and thus always

brings with it some secondary information. No matter how valuable it may be, it must

also, in some way, lose the specificity of the main image. Thus paying special attention to

the setting is one way to ―stay with the image‖ (Jung, 2008, p. 381). It is a means to focus

specifically on what Kaufmann (2009) calls the ―the orient,‖ or the objective context, of

the archetypal image or motif (p. 8).

The setting of Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004), viewed psychologically, can be

generally mapped into three spatial scales: Howl‘s castle, the kingdom, and the greater

landscape that includes the unseen kingdom beyond the wastes. In terms of the structure

of the psyche, Howl‘s castle can, at one level, be seen as a reflection of Howl‘s ego, for it

contains not only himself, but the ―family‖ with which he consciously identifies. The

kingdom, as noted above, could be seen as the combination of his ego and other parts of

the psyche that he can directly know, i.e., as a combination of the ego and the personal

unconscious. Because the land beyond the wastes is unseen, unknown, and unmapped, it

could be seen as the collective unconscious.

While this spatial organization makes general sense, it is clearly not the only way

to consider the data. Howl‘s castle could also be viewed as something of a representation

of Howl‘s entire psyche. For the time frame encompassed by the film, the castle reflects

his psyche‘s change and growth. Howl‘s castle also has its own internal source of power
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and heat, and it provides the container within which alchemical changes occur. To the

extent that the film is about Howl‘s individuation, whether one considers Howl‘s castle as

symbolic of the ego or of his whole psyche, by paying attention to the movement and

changes in Howl‘s castle one is also visually tracking Howl‘s psychological movement

towards wholeness.

Characters

What follows is a brief outline or sketch of each of the characters in order to assist

the reader to interpret the commentary. The treatment of each character, taken out of the

context of the scenes, is meant to provide only a brief summary of his or her most salient

aspects. This is, therefore, not intended to capture anywhere near the richness or full

psychological value of the characters, or to replace the more thorough discussion to be

found in later sections.

Howl

Howl is a young wizard around whose problem the narrative revolves. When he

was a youth, he swallowed a falling star, Calcifer, and could be said to have harnessed

the energy of an archetype that enables him to fly. Yet in so doing, the archetype con-

comitantly became harnessed to his heart and to the hearth of his castle. His heart thereby

became protected by the consciousness of Calcifer, even as he somehow used and

controlled the fire of his heart to be in many places at once and also to protect the castle,

i.e., the ego-consciousness. This arrangement works, but it is time-limited. Being con-

joined and identified with an archetype, Howl cannot grow. His heart remains, as Calcifer

says in the film, ―the heart of a child.‖ Thus Howl could be considered to be a
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representative of what Jung called a ―puer aeternus,‖ an eternal youth who is unable to

grow and transition into an adult.

The name Howl could potentially refer to the wolf‘s howl, a lonely, existential cry

in the night of longing for a mate, or the unselfconscious and autonomous ―howl‖ emitted

by one who is in deep pain or anguish. Both refer to an instinctual sound that comes from

deep within, and could be considered an instinctual cry of pain and longing. The wolf

analogy is further suggested by a section of the film in which Howl has turned into a

monster, yet instead of looking like a bird, the usual form he takes when he is fighting, he

takes the form of a black wolf with fangs.24 The instinctual cry of anguish makes sense

for one who is in suffering from constant fear and is perpetually in hiding.

Howl is also an orphan, for he has somehow been severed from his parental roots.

A sorcerer uncle had given him a study within which to live, which was surrounded by

what he called his own ―secret garden.‖ Even though he lived alone, it could also be said

that, through living so close to nature, with which he identified, he was able to have some

degree of relationship to the archetypal feminine in the form of the great mother. Howl‘s

long flowing clothes, earrings, colorful bedroom, long hair, sparkling eyes, and passion

of feeling all suggest something of a development of his own feminine side. Yet his

running away from negative forms of the feminine, as represented by Madame Suliman

and the Witch of the Waste, have also brought him his main problems, a life of constant

danger and a concomitant crippling fear.

Taken psychologically, as described above, the film could be said to depict

Howl‘s psyche, and his problem is one in which he has become stuck. Howl represents an

individual who has separated from the collective, yet who cannot find his way alone.
24
See Figure 36, below.
 131

Sophie

Sophie is the other main character. An eighteen-year-old woman who manages

her late father‘s hat shop, she is turned into an old woman by the Witch of the Waste.

This problem of her own sets her on her own journey. Yet as Sophie comes into

relationship with Howl, she also seeks to discover the nature of Howl‘s specific problem

and how to solve it. Even though the main conflict could be said to revolve around Howl,

the plot mostly follows Sophie‘s progress in discovering a way to save him.25 In some

ways, this film could be said to follow the form of many traditional novels, in which a

female character, such as Jane Eyre, works to solve a mystery of a wounded male figure,

such as Mr. Rochester.

Sophie is also reminiscent of Sophia, a name that suggests a feminine personi-

fication of wisdom. As Edinger (1994) noted, ―the Greek philosophers were lovers of

Sophia, as the word ‗philosophy‘ indicates‖ (p. 51). Jung placed Sophia as the highest

developmental stage of the anima, in which it becomes the bridge to the self. Sophia, in

Gnosticism, is ―the light that falls into the embrace of dark matter and then must be

redeemed from that position‖ (p. 141). In other words, Sophia is spirit that has been

incarnated in nature and needs the light of consciousness in order to become free.

The character Sophie, alternating between young and old versions of herself,

could be said to express two sides of her nature, a young one as virgin, and an old one as

crone. Or, put another way, the spell that turns her into a crone could be said to have

constellated and incarnated the fully developed aspect of herself that she requires to solve

the problem of her own transition. What this spell has done is knock her out of her

sentimental attachment to her father‘s hat shop, and give her access to the passion and
25
Indeed, the film poster for the Japanese release depicts the film as Sophie‘s journey (Figure 1).
 132

fire of her own feelings in the process. What had been muted at the beginning of the story

when she had been caught in a father complex, serving her internalized idea of what she

believed was important to her father, was thus restored by the spell. Even as the spell

decreased her physical capacity, it concomitantly increased her ability.

Another way to consider her spell a curse is that it shows on the outside how she

already unconsciously believes herself to be on the inside. In other words, it could be said

to have made visible a complex that she already had, thus explaining why she accepts the

role so readily. Even so, while on the one hand it gives her the potential to become aware

of her problem, it also provides her with an opportunity to identify further with it.

Taken psychologically, specifically through a Jungian lens, Sophie can be consid-

ered Howl‘s anima or contrasexual other. She represents his compensatory, unconscious

opposite, and an opportunity to come into relationship with his wider, fuller self. As

stated above, she thus offers him a potential bridge across which to relate to, and to come

into alignment with, the Self. In helping to solve his specific problem, she even could be

said to be something of an agent for the Self.

The Witch of the Waste

This is one of the main antagonists of the film. She is a very old witch who wants

to possess Howl‘s heart. In the film, much like a fairy tale or myth, her wanting Howl‘s

heart is somehow never questioned. It is considered a normal desire for a witch. The

Witch of the Waste lives in the far, inhospitable regions of the kingdom, in the most

untrammeled nature. Yet she wishes to be at the center of the king-dom, in the King‘s

palace, from which Madame Suliman has banished her.

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Considered psychologically, through a Jungian lens, the Witch of the Waste is a

suppressed unconscious aspect of the feminine that is associated with nature and instinct;

she could, therefore, be considered a representative of the great mother. At the same time,

the Witch of the Waste is a negative form of the feminine, because she has been made

angry through rejection and repression by Madame Suliman. She intends to take by force

what she has not been allowed to have, with no remorse that this will kill its host in the

process. What she wants is Howl‘s heart, which could be considered a symbol of his

Eros, or feeling side, as well as his life force. But through taking it she will remove a vital

organ upon which not only his Eros, but his entire life, depends.

Madame Suliman

Madame Suliman is an old sorceress who resides in the King‘s palace. While it

would seem that she would be ruled by the King, it turns out that she is in control of both

King and kingdom; indeed, she is even the one who instigated the war with the

neighboring kingdom. She was Howl‘s teacher until Howl was able to get away from her.

She wants Howl‘s power, for him to be her champion, and she states that, if she cannot

have it, she will destroy him. Even so, she also destroys all the other wizards who serve

her in the war by turning them into monsters. She thus, like the Witch of the Waste,

shows herself to be something of a terrible and devouring mother, but one whose goal is

very different.

Madame Suliman is in a wheelchair, denoting a decrease of personal power.

While she obviously still has all her conscious faculties, she somehow has a decreased

ability to act in the world. This is also reflected in the wholly artificial environment in

which she lives, within a great greenhouse, a veritable crystal palace, attached to the
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royal palace. This may signify that, on top of her physical condition of infirmity, she also

must somehow live separate from the natural world in an environment that is contrived

and artificially controlled.

The first syllable of Madame Suliman‘s name is pronounced ―Saul,‖ like the

oldest king in the Old Testament who was always waging war with the Philistines, or like

Sol, the sun, which is often considered to be a masculine symbol (Jung, 1969c, p. 439).

The last syllable, ―mon,‖ is, in northern England, a slang word for man. The ―i‖ between

the two syllables is likely just a means to connect them, like a short form of ―is.‖ In other

words, her name can be read as ―Saul‖ or ―Sol‖ ―is‖ ―man,‖ which describes a woman

who represents the masculine, patriarchal system, both as symbolized by the old and

warring king, Saul, and by a solar, or energy, element.

In sum, even though Madame Suliman is a woman, she could be said to hold the

patriarchal reins of power behind a weak king. She lives separate from the earth and

nature, both traditionally feminine values, in an unrelated place of strategy and discern-

ment, traditionally associated with the masculine. Between the Witch of the Waste and

Madame Suliman it is as if the terrible mother image has been split in two, one identified

with Eros, which has been traditionally associated with the feminine, and the other

identified with Logos, which has been similarly associated with the masculine.26

Calcifer

Calcifer is a young fallen star that Howl has swallowed. While Howl gains

Calcifer‘s ability to fly, Calcifer gains control of Howl‘s heart. Through this exchange,

Calcifer is no longer able to fly, but he is able to relate to others. Calcifer‘s mobility is

26
These traditional associations are not value-free, but are based on the over-valuation of Logos, in the
Western world, especially since the onset of the so-called ―Age of Reason.‖
 135

limited to the hearth of the castle, just as one‘s heart is limited to a central position in

one‘s body. The words heart and hearth have the same root, and the hearth could be

called the ―heart‖ of the home. Just as the heart is necessary to fuel the body, Calcifer‘s

fire in the hearth is what drives and animates the castle.

Through their meeting and admixture of elements, both Howl and Calcifer are

somehow wounded by the other. Both gain something new from the relationship, but at

the same time it is a tenuous position, for both cannot grow and change. While Howl may

consciously understand what occurred, he does not discuss it. It is Calcifer who articu-

lates their problem, and it is he who invites Sophie into the castle in an attempt to seek a

solution.

Considered psychologically, Calcifer could be called a representative of the child

archetype. Calcifer‘s role as a young star is to be forever young, the bright shining light

of the forever new. His is the power of possibility. But he could also, and more simply,

just be considered archetypal energy. While it is Calcifer who burns, his fire could be

described as that energy which animates us all, and which especially arrives in the form

of a new interest or venture.

Markle

Markle is Howl‘s apprentice. Unlike the apprentices of Madame Suliman, Markle

does not appear to be a clone with all of his individuality erased. Instead, Markle has a

personality of his own, looking very much like the adolescent he is. Since Markle is

approximately the age that Howl was when he swallowed the star, taken psychologically,

Markle could be considered to be a part of Howl that never had a chance to grow up, that

still has the ability to feel, and that still longs for connection to a family.
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Heen

Heen is an old male dog who is a companion to the main women in the film—

Madame Suliman, the Witch of the Waste, and Sophie—and is also a friend to Markle.

Heen takes on the role, as dogs in mythology have done, of psychopomp, i.e., of a guide

to the underworld, or the unconscious, archetypal realm (von Franz, 1996, p. 119). It is

ultimately Heen who risks everything to go with Sophie when things become the hardest

and darkest, and who helps her find the way across the threshold of time and space27—

that is, the liminal, archetypal world of timelessness and spacelessness—to discover the

cause of Howl‘s problem and its solution. It is also Heen who is able to lead her back.

Howl’s Castle

Howl‘s castle is both home and vehicle for all of its inhabitants. While it is moved

around, and thus animated, by Calcifer, Howl‘s castle also seems to have a rudimentary

personality of its own, separate from the one that Calcifer displays. While it is made of

wood, stone, and metal, it also has what look to be bird feet, a mouth and tongue, and

eyes that are simultaneously cannons. It expresses itself in bursts of steam and smoke

when it is excited—for example, when Sophie is coming home—in a way similar to what

one might expect from a dog. Taken psychologically, and as a character, Howl‘s castle

expresses what seems like a pure, naïve feeling, a love and caring for the group that lives

and travels within, and a desire to please. As a counterpoint to Calcifer‘s clever dialogue,

the personality of Howl‘s castle could be seen as reflective of instinct and feeling, much

as Woodman (1994) considers the body.

Howl‘s castle can also be seen psychologically as a visual expression of either

Howl‘s whole psyche or his ego. As Howl goes through psychological changes, they are
27
See Figure 38.
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somehow reflected in the physical image of the castle and the makeup of its inhabitants.

On the one hand, these changes could be said to describe Howl‘s ego development; on

the other, they could also be said to reflect his psyche‘s individuation process. I choose to

view them as a visual description of the process through which Howl‘s ego has to go in

order for his psyche to become more balanced and whole.

Turnip Head

Turnip Head, the scarecrow, is the prince from a neighboring village, who has

been changed into a scarecrow by Madame Suliman. Turnip Head can be changed back

into a prince only by a kiss from the woman he loves, a typical fairy tale redemption

motif.

Considered psychologically, Turnip Head can be taken as Howl‘s archetypal

shadow, or ―shadow hero‖ from the kingdom beyond the wastes (von Franz, 1996, p.

114). They are each other‘s reflection in the opposing kingdoms which each usually

inhabits, one conscious and the other unconscious.

Honey

Honey is Sophie‘s stepmother, who could be said to have no real feeling. Honey

betrays Sophie for her new husband, whom we never even meet in the film.

Psychologically, she could be called the anima in the position of the man pleaser.

Identified with her appearance and her persona, she lives a purely collective existence,

completely consumed by the times in which she lives rather than having any relationship

to her own depths.

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Lettie

Lettie is Honey‘s natural daughter, and Sophie‘s stepsister. While, like her

mother, she too plays a collective role of both carrying and reflecting the low-level anima

projections of men, she has not yet identified with an adult role. In other words, like

Markle, she could be said to retain something of the individuality of youth that has not

been lost by transitioning into, and identifying with, a collective, adult, first-half-of-life

role. This individuality is reflected in her desire to help Sophie. It is Lettie who correctly

identifies Sophie‘s initial problem of being tied to the values and interests of their dead

father rather than pursuing her own interests.

The King

The King is a representative of the old order; indeed, as a male ruler he

symbolizes a patriarchal order. Yet the king himself is shown to be little more than a

puppet, for, although he is the ruler in name, the true power is held by Madame Suliman.

Considered psychologically, the King could be said to portray a ruling masculine that is

lacking in power and consciousness. King and kingdom both could thus be said to repre-

sent a ruling individual and system that are patriarchal, yet not fully developed; thus they

are ruled by a female character who has greater consciousness. In other words, king and

kingdom are ruled by a form of the feminine that has become focused on patriarchal

power, which could, therefore, be said to be betraying something of her own feminine

nature.
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CHAPTER VI: SCENE INTERPRETATIONS

Overview

As noted above, following Jung‘s method of objective amplification, the second

step of my research method was to interpret the film symbolically. The third step then

translates these interpretations into psychological language that can be applied personally

or collectively. Results of these steps are presented here in keeping with the chrono-

logical order of events within the film, preceded by short descriptive summaries of the

film and associated screen shots, to help orient the reader. To avoid confusion, each of

these summaries is put in italics, and each scene is numbered.

Also as stated above, this dissertation is limited to those elements of the film

alone that relate to Howl‘s individuation process; to that end, it is less focused on

cataloguing details than on capturing results. Its goal is not to attempt to reflect the entire

content of the film, nor even to indentify and interpret all the symbolic material that

relates to individuation. For each content in the film that is discussed, the purpose is to

capture and relate as much relevant information about it as possible, not to describe

exhaustively every comparable symbol or possible interpretation. Each of these

limitations is an attempt to focus the analysis on the topic and to keep it at a reasonable

length.
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Figure 3: Howl‘s castle appearing through the mist (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 1: Howl’s Castle. The first scene begins in heavy fog or cloud, with the

clatter of machines and heavy footsteps approaching. Amid sounds of creaking and

groaning, accompanied by bursts of released steam, a monstrous conglomeration of

buildings and fortifications appears briefly in the mist. It has what looks like a face, with

cannons for eyes and a rudimentary mouth, and it walks by on what look like metal bird

feet as it emits clouds of black smoke.

The clouds begin to thin and part, allowing first a sheepherder and a flock of

sheep to appear in a grassy field next to a rural cottage, and then a number of nearby

mountain peaks. Finally, as the monstrous machine also emerges out of the mist, the

herder raises a staff in friendly salute.

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The camera pans upward, so that the title sequence is displayed among clouds

and blue sky, while airplanes fly in a loose formation in the distance.

This monstrous machine that walks across the landscape is, as the title suggests,

Howl‘s moving castle. This scene shows that, although it could be going anywhere, the

geographical location that it inhabits is rural and obscured by clouds. Yet for all its

formidable fortifications and loud noises, it is not feared by the rural inhabitant, but is

waved to as if it were recognized as a neighbor. It does not even scare the sheep, animals

well known to frighten easily, suggesting that its noisy appearance is somehow a familiar

occurrence in their lives.

There are few symbols as evocative of an ancient way of life in harmony with

nature than a shepherd and a flock of sheep. In the Western world the shepherd is often a

symbol of a balanced relationship between humans and nature. The thatched stone

cottage, built to traditional design and of local materials, also looks timeless and in

harmony with its surroundings. Howl‘s castle features what look to be similar cottages of

rural design cobbled into its matrix of turrets and stovepipes, thus partly blending into the

location and landscape. Yet even so, its steam propulsion, black smoke, and the small

airplanes in the title sequence all suggest a time frame at the beginning of the 20th

century, when steam power and airplanes were used at the same time. This suggests that

the rural scene, on the alpine meadows between mountain peaks, inhabited by Howl‘s

castle is not as timeless as it seems, but that it is more reflective of the fringes of a much

more modern civilization.

Considered psychologically through a Jungian lens, the alpine meadows denote

the edge, rather than the center, of the psyche. That Howl‘s castle is located on the
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fringes, rather than in a central location in the populated lowlands, could be seen to

suggest an ego that is out of balance with the rest of the psyche. That it is moving rather

than fixed could similarly be related to an ego that does not have a solid foundation and

has not taken a firm stand in life. That it specifically moves among clouds that obscure it

from outside view suggests that it is actively endeavoring to hide It does not seem to need

to hide from the local inhabitants, for the shepherd and the sheep, both of which could be

said to embody an historic and instinctual part of the psyche, are not alarmed by its

presence, and the shepherd even waves to it. Instead, it seems to be hiding from a conflict

elsewhere, away from the idyllic natural surroundings. This conflict is also reflected in

the military planes in the title sequence,28 which suggest the possibility of ongoing

conflict elsewhere in the kingdom.

Each of these psychological interpretations is, at the point of this specific scene,

only conjecture, but each is borne out by data presented later in the film. These elements

could thus be said to suggest something of the psychological problem that the film

portrays: An ego that is in conflict with, or disconnected from, other parts of the psyche,

using its energy towards defending the status quo rather than towards further develop-

ment. Each could also be said to hint at the need for a solution, thereby foreshadowing

the rest of the film. Psychologically, from a Jungian perspective, each of these images

points towards an ego that must face the conflict in which it is involved, and come into

relationship with those aspects of the psyche that it has been avoiding in order to

establish a place for itself in the psyche‘s landscape.

28
See Figure 2.
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Figure 4: Sophie watches Howl‘s castle briefly appear out of the clouds (Suzuki &
Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 2: Sophie. After the title of the film appears, the camera pans down from

the clouds and into a town in the foothills. Smokestacks billow black smoke, and a train,

similarly emitting black smoke, comes into the town. A villager walks by leading a

donkey. Inside a building, a young woman, Sophie, sits at a table by a window, sewing

decorations onto a hat. The smoke from the train billows past her window as the train

goes by.

While Sophie is busy sewing, the other young women who work there are

preparing to go out. One notices Howl‟s castle through the window, and the other young

women run to look. Sophie pauses to look outside as well, watching as Howl‟s castle

appears momentarily out of the mist and then disappears again, just as several military

planes fly by bearing flags. Sophie blinks dreamily and then goes back to her work; the
 144

other young women excitedly gossip. They say that it is Howl‟s castle, that it is hiding

from the planes, that Howl is a wizard who “tore the heart out” of a young woman in a

neighboring village. They also say that he only “preys on pretty girls.”

After they leave together, Sophie also prepares to depart, but by herself. As she

walks through the courtyard of the hat shop, several more planes fly low overhead, pull-

ing large flags. She puts on a hat and briefly models it in front of a mirror with a smile,

but then frowns and pulls the hat down angrily onto her head and leaves. As she walks

through the town, she passes steam-powered vehicles, another rural person with a

donkey, and a parade of tanks and marching soldiers. Everywhere there are flags flying.

The camera‘s unbroken pan up and down from the sky and title sequence, as well

as the train‘s smoke on the window, denote that the events are occurring at the same time

and in the same general vicinity. Even though they look as if they are the same age, the

gossiping young women and Sophie communicate very different reactions to Howl‘s

castle. The young women express both excitement and fear, while Sophie expresses only

a passing and partial interest. We thus learn that Howl has something of a bad reputation,

but that not everybody cares. Sophie, who seems to be somewhat lost in her own

thoughts, does not even appear to be listening.

Sophie‘s response to her reflection in the mirror suggests that she is upset about

her appearance. She does not appear to consider herself to be one of the ―pretty girls‖

mentioned by the other young women as objects of Howl‘s interest. The planes, flags,

and military parades seem designed to engender a feeling of patriotism. Flags are, of

course, symbols of nations, and the military flying flags in such an obvious way suggests

an effort to engender feelings of patriotism in order to enlist soldiers in the lead-up to

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war. If a war is already taking place elsewhere, no sign of it can be seen in the celebratory

atmosphere of the town, nor in the crisp uniforms of the soldiers.

Even though the form of the film is animation, the landscapes and scenes

generally exhibit realism in subject and form, with a few exceptions. As noted above, the

town may be based upon the Alsatian town of Colmar, but the mountainous natural

setting surrounding it is more like the Swiss Alps, hundreds of kilometers to the south.

While the flags do not depict any actual nation in the real world, they are suggestive of

national flags in the way in which they are paraded by the military. Also, many of the

machines, especially the flying ones, are of a creative design that does not exist in reality.

As in dream interpretation, when such differences from reality occur, it is valuable to

consider each of them symbolically. Every difference can be potentially be suggestive of

an inner, and even a potentially archetypal, reality.

High mountains often play a role as a border between countries, especially in

Europe, where the Alps form a natural separation among five countries; thus the inclusion

of the high mountains can be suggestive of a border. In this case, they provide a border

between the kingdom in which Howl resides and the neighboring kingdom. Borderlands

are often areas on the fringes of civilizations and beyond the reach of state control, thus

potentially lawless, undeveloped, and wild. For this reason, borderlands can symbolize

the edge of conscious awareness, an interstitial space where consciousness and the

unconscious merge and meet.

Flags are symbols of nations, especially when they are being used in military

parades. In such cases, the flying of flags is a declaration of national strength, pride, and

resolve. It is also an enactment of a ritual that is meant to engender identification with

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one‘s nation, with such an event often a precursor to, or an indicator of, war. Such an act

may suggest a psyche that is at war, either for or against its traditional cultural values and

identity.

Each of the imaginary vehicles shows novel means of getting around in the world.

Yet mostly, thus far in the film, they are shown in terms of flying machines and the

castle. Both are a combination of materials and mechanical elements that could be found

at the time, but both also could be said to have a magical component, for they do not

quite follow the laws of physics. Planes have not been invented that can flap their wings,

and heavy, fortified structures cannot walk on bird-like feet. While each of these diver-

gences from reality reminds the viewer that the film is something of a fantasy, each

specifically shows that, in this fantasy, a greater capacity of vertical ascent into the sky is

possible, as is a greater range of lateral, horizontal movement. Vertical movement could

be called a move towards masculine spirit and sky, away from the feminine and matter.

Similarly, horizontal movement could be called a move against a relationship with, and

embeddedness in, the feminine.

Sophie and Howl live in the same place and time, in a setting that resembles

several places in Europe at the start of World War I, yet not specifically indicative of any

one location. The creative elements suggest an imaginary, and an inner, landscape. That

Howl‘s castle may be hiding from the flag-bearing military of the kingdom suggests a

psyche that is somehow at war with the traditional powers, otherwise known as one‘s

collective cultural values. This could be said to indicate a psyche caught between the first

half of life and the second, or trapped somewhere in mid-transition ―between two mytho-

logical systems‖ (Hollis, 2011). One of these is the collective culture that one has
 147

internalized, or what Campbell (1968) called a ―traditional‖ mythology (p. 4), and the

other is the callings of the Self towards one‘s own, individual path, or vocation, or what

Campbell called a ―creative‖ mythology (p. 4).

Several psychological clues that introduce us to the character of Howl are

provided in the unfiltered, chatty dialogue of the young women. They suggest that Howl

is hiding from the planes, which indicates that Howl is a kind of outlaw, within the power

structure of the psyche. Indeed, as will soon be shown, Howl is literally something of a

―wanted man,‖ for although he is not a criminal, he is specifically being sought by two

female characters who could be said to personify aspects of the feminine within the

psyche.

A wizard is someone who is able independently to channel energy towards a goal

of his own choosing. Not surprisingly, a wizard who is independent and unaligned with

the central authority of a kingdom would be considered a threat to anyone who is

identified with wielding power; this explains why he would be something of an outlaw.

Seen as representative of an ego that could channel energy towards its own goals, Howl

could potentially threaten the traditional balance of power within the kingdom of psyche.

In Jungian theory, this traditional balance of power would describe the psychology of all

individuals who have either not separated from participation mystique with their parents,

or who identify with a persona oriented towards fitting into the collective, i.e., the usual

goals of the first half of life.

That Howl is specifically charged with seeking out the hearts of young women

suggests that he is in quest of youthful power or energy. The heart is the organ that

pumps the lifeblood and energy that are necessary for any task. At the same time, the
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heart is the symbolic center of one‘s feeling, or Eros, as well as of one‘s soul. To the

extent that the body, our matter (from ―mater‖ or mother), can be considered feminine, it

is also symbolic of one‘s feminine side.29 Thus, put most simply, the heart of a young

woman could be seen as a source of undeveloped feminine energy or consciousness. For

Howl it could represent a blank screen upon which to project his own feminine qualities

of feeling and intuition, in an unconscious attempt to balance an overly masculine

consciousness. In other words, it could play the role of a surrogate, or substitute, for his

own heart, for which he is really searching, or it could equally represent a raw energy

source to which he is drawn for the purpose of achieving power.30 These are conflicting

goals, for, as Jung observed, the opposite of love, or feeling, is power;31 because both are

forms of psychic energy and ―life force,‖ either can be a source of enchantment (Jung,

1971, p. 210).

29
I.e., as opposed to one‘s mind, or masculine side.
30
A example of the first would be a medieval knight of the romantic tradition who was empowered by love.
An example of the second would be a vampire such as Dracula who wants power only for himself.
31
―Where force rules there is no love, and where love reigns force does not count‖ (Jung, 1954, p. 181).
 149

Figure 5: Sophie is confronted by soldiers (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 3: Meeting Howl. When Sophie ducks into an alley to escape the crowds,

she finds herself in an inner courtyard where infantry gear and firearms are being stored

and watched over by a soldier. Sophie gasps and moves on, past war propaganda posters

that are posted on the walls of the buildings. The soldier turns his head and watches her

go with a smile. Following the directions she holds in her hand, Sophie walks through a

series of narrow, deserted passageways, and distractedly comes upon two soldiers. The

soldiers flirt with her and do not let her continue on her way, even though she protests.

Howl appears behind her and, placing a hand on her shoulder, says, “There you

are, sweetheart, sorry I‟m late; I was looking everywhere for you” When the soldier‟s

protest Howl‟s intrusion, with a small gesture of his hand Howl makes the soldiers march
 150

away against their will. He says to Sophie, “Don‟t hold it against them; they‟re actually

not all that bad.”

Sophie, having left the main road and headed into an alleyway, is, as the saying

goes, ―off the beaten track.‖ In other words, she is leaving the collective norm and

moving into a more lawless area where even the soldiers may misbehave without fear of

repercussions. Being in unfamiliar territory, Sophie even needs the map or directions that

she carries in order to navigate these passageways. Alleyways are usually unsigned and

unlit by streetlamps, and, while their daytime purpose may be for service access, they can

also be frequented by anyone, even criminal elements. Psychologically, specifically from

a Jungian perspective, back alleys, especially dark and narrow ones, can represent paths

of which one is less conscious, which can, therefore, represent either new possibilities for

growth, or old, half-forgotten ways that can lead to regression and repetition. Within

them is a potential to meet contents of which one is less conscious, which can either help

or hinder progress.

In Sophie‘s case, she is immediately viewed as by the first soldier as an attractive

young woman. Because Sophie identifies with being unattractive, this quality is in her

shadow, and she is in more danger than she knows. We find out just how much danger

when she is confronted by the soldiers who do not let her pass. One even calls her cute.

The soldiers, who flirt with her on a very superficial level, do not display formal military

decorum. It shows that, while they serve the flag and the old order, they also do not

completely identify with it. This hints of potential decay in the old order.

The military is, among other things, a traditional system of initiation for adoles-

cent males into an adult role in the collective in the first half of life. That so many
 151

soldiers are represented shows that this traditional mythic system is still in place, but their

individual lack of decorum shows that there are cracks forming in it within which instinct

and libido are not completely contained. On the one hand, this is suggestive of freedom

from the limitations that the old mythic system may have held; thus the potential for a

new, more contemporary myth may be coming on the horizon. On the other hand, it is

also a potentially dangerous situation for Sophie, for the soldiers‘ actions are not being

contained by the old system‘s moral code. Because of their departure from their

traditional role, they are also to some extent unmoored from its ethical system and

constraints.

Even though cracks may be forming in the old myth, these young men are still

wearing the uniform of the old order and are prepared to follow the commands of the old

king. This suggests that they have not consciously wrested individual control of their own

lives away from the collective, and still have an unconscious alignment and an identifi-

cation with unconscious forces. 32 Possibly because they are still able to be so controlled

by unconscious forces beyond their own understanding, and Howl has enough

consciousness to be able to separate himself from the same control, he is also able to

wield something of the same power to trick them temporarily into marching to his orders.

Psychologically speaking, to the extent that Howl could be said to represent the ego, he

thus shows he has sufficient consciousness not only to have broken away from the

traditional collective culture into which he was born, i.e., the spirit of the times, but even

32
Jung (1970a) called individuals like this ―mass‖ or ―collective‖ men, as opposed to ―individual‖ men
such as Howl (pp. 230, 258).
 152

to learn to relate to and understand something of the archetypal energies that define it.33

The new contemporary myth coming over the horizon, therefore, likely has something to

do with this shift in ego development and consciousness.

Howl‘s comment that the soldiers are ―not so bad‖ indicates that he knows

something about them. In other words, described psychologically, it suggests that Howl

has done enough of his psychological work to become conscious of what they represent

in his psyche. If so, they could be said to suggest a developmental stage that Howl,

however briefly, may have gone through himself. This could potentially explain the

origin of his bad reputation.

Howl‘s first words to Sophie, when he called her ―sweetheart‖ and said that he

had been ―looking everywhere‖ for her, are easy to dismiss as a deception that he devised

in order to trick the soldiers into leaving her alone. Yet in a scene that occurs later in the

film, Sophie has traveled through time and briefly encountered Howl before this meeting;

she has even told Howl to look for her in the future. Thus Howl had already had some-

thing of a glimpse of Sophie‘s role in his life, even though Sophie did not yet know it

herself. Even if he did not consciously remember this earlier encounter, which would be

understandable because Sophie was falling through a wormhole when she shouted at him,

it could still be a memory stored within his unconscious and thus the source of an

intuition, i.e., an insight from the unconscious.

33
I.e., what Ulanov (1972) referred to as a ―unique constellation of archetypal mythologems‖ (p. 57).
While Ulanov used this to describe the inner culture in each individual, it could equally be said to describe
the nature of the outer collective cultures to which individuals belong.
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Figure 6: Howl and Sophie take flight (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 4: Taking Flight. As Howl escorts her on her way, they pass a war poster

that shows a soldier and the term “Mut und Willenscraft.” A black blob man comes out

of the wall beside the poster and more blob men appear behind them. Howl says to

Sophie, “Sorry, it looks like you‟re involved.” They try to outrun the blob men, but more

appear ahead. Howl says, “Hold on,” and they burst up into the air above the buildings.

The blob men do not follow. Then Howl tells Sophie to “straighten your legs and start

walking,” and they walk upon the air over the rooftops. As Sophie walks next to Howl, he

tells her, “You are a natural,” and Sophie smiles. They proceed like this over the main

square of the town, within which life goes on as normal. In it handsome soldiers dance

with, and talk, to pretty young women. Howl drops Sophie off on her balcony, telling her

to wait while he draws them away. When she agrees, he says, “That‟s my girl.”
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Howl and Sophie pass a war poster on a wall that is written in German. As stated

above, Alsace was a part of Germany until the end of the First World War. The saying

can be read as a direct statement of what the role of soldier was for young men, an

initiation by, in translation, ―courage and willpower,‖ into the patriarchy, and thus a myth

that has no room for a conscious awareness by the young men of a feminine side. The

blob men coming out of the walls are an interesting juxtaposition to the soldiers, for,

while the soldiers appear as individuals with common uniforms, the blob men are black

and formless apart from a generic hat, thus representing a factor that could be said to be

far less differentiated.

Psychologically, the blob men, who are unknown and unknowable, do not follow

the laws that everyone else follows; they could be described as a representation of a

masculine archetypal energy. Yet because they can move through the ground and through

walls, but cannot escape the earth, they are also tied somehow to the feminine. Indeed, in

the next scene it is shown that they are none other than the Witch of the Waste‘s

henchmen, i.e., an embodiment of a feminine part of Howl‘s psyche. Howl intimates

knowing that these blob men had already been after him, suggesting that he is under some

kind of attack by an archetypal masculine under the control of a feminine part of his

psyche.

Howl‘s means of escape is to leap high into the air. Symbolically, he is able to

leap away from the feminine earth, literally walking in the air. Metaphorically, this

upward movement suggests the alchemical process of sublimatio, a separation of spirit

from matter. As Edinger (1985) described this process psychologically:

Sublimatio is an ascent that raises us above the confining entanglements of

immediate, earthy existence and its concrete, personal particulars. The
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higher we go the grander and more comprehensive is our perspective, but

also the more remote we become from actual life and the less able we will
be to have an effect on what we perceive. We become magnificent but
impotent spectators (p. 118).

Howl‘s escape into the air could also be called a masculine leap, for separation from the

earth is a severing of relatedness to matter and a following of the upwards movement of

spirit, moves that have been traditionally identified as masculine.34 This interpretation is

partially supported by the fact that Howl‘s castle is also up in the clouds among the

mountain peaks, and, as will be shown later in the film, Howl is even able to take the

shape of a bird and fly.

In other words, to the extent that Howl has learned to retreat into the air from

these representatives of his archetypal shadow and from the feminine force within his

unconscious that rules them, he may have equally become disconnected from his actual

life. It also suggests that Howl may have become something of a ―magnificent and

impotent spectator,‖ a suggestion that is backed up by scenes later in the film.

That Howl finds Sophie to be ―a natural‖ at such an activity as flying through the

air suggests that she has some consciousness of her own. While she may not feel that she

fits into the culture of the other young women, she is a natural in Howl‘s alternative

reality, in which he can literally rise above the common culture and not obey conven-

tional laws. Psychologically speaking, this scene could suggest that Sophie may have

inner, unplumbed depths of her own, and also that her meeting with Howl may help her

to discover them.

34
This may have to do with patriarchal traditions that have, for millennia, represented the God of the Old
Testament as a male figure set among the clouds, as well as continued to depict all manner of mythic gods
and heroes, such as Cupid and Icarus, as similarly capable of flight.
 156

At the end of their meeting, Howl saying ―That‘s my girl‖ again sounds like it

could just be a figure of speech, but it also may hint at the fact that Howl has recognized

Sophie from when she traveled back in time and met him in his youth. That Howl takes

her directly back to her home without her first telling him where it is also could be said to

suggest that he has become aware of her before this scene.

Figure 7: Sophie daydreams as Lettie is speaking to her (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 5: Lettie. Sophie‟s sister Lettie is working at a sweet shop, where she is

surrounded by young men and soldiers who are flirting with her. She runs upstairs and

tells Sophie that she has heard that she floated down onto the balcony. Sophie responds,

“So that happened; that wasn‟t a dream.” Because Lettie is supposed to be at work,

Sophie and Lettie go into the storeroom at the back of the sweet shop in order to talk

further.
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Sophie tells Lettie that she was rescued by a wizard, and Lettie says that, if it was

Howl, he was after her heart. Sophie responds, “Howl only does that to beautiful girls,”

at which Lettie scoffs. Lettie tells Sophie that she should be more careful, but Sophie

starts daydreaming and then gets ready to leave, saying that she was only there to make

sure that Lettie was “doing okay.”

As she is leaving, Lettie asks Sophie if she is going to continue to work in their

father‟s hat shop. Sophie responds by saying that the shop was important to their father,

that she is the eldest and does not mind. Lettie says that she does not care what their

father may have wanted; she wants to know what Sophie wants. Throughout the scene,

Lettie is constantly interrupted by men who want to chat or offer her things.

This scene provides context about Sophie and her family of origin. Lettie could be

said to fit in better than Sophie with the culture of the time, and is rewarded with much

adoration. That she works in a sweet shop is fitting, for she too has a sweet personality.

She responds to nearly all of the men who are continually trying to engage her in some

way, no matter how trivial the content may be. Yet even so, Lettie is very direct with

Sophie; in contrast, Sophie seems slightly disengaged and lost in daydreams. Sophie

herself even suggests that she can become lost in reverie, when she responds to Lettie that

her flight with Howl, only moments before, ―wasn‘t a dream.‖

Described psychologically, though Sophie recognizes that Howl saved her, she

still slips into a habitual way of being in the world in which she slightly dissociates from

her surroundings. She also suffers from low self-esteem regarding her physical attractive-

ness. When next to Lettie, who fits the norm better with her colorful dress and sweet

persona, Sophie does not attract as much attention from the young men. She also all too
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quickly seemed to lose her perspective on how, with Howl, she momentarily forgot her

negative self-image. Jung (1966a) called this attitude a ―regressive restoration of the

persona‖ (p. 163), which can serve as a means to avoid the difficulty of embracing one‘s

own inner nature and calling. A self-defeating persona, when identified with in this way,

becomes a kind of inferiority complex that is based on negatively judging oneself from

the perspective of the culture in which one lives.

Lettie also states that, instead of pursuing her own interests, Sophie remains in

service to the perceived wishes of their dead father. This suggests that Sophie is some-

thing of ―a father‘s daughter‖ (Woodman, 1994), i.e., that she suffers from a father

complex—in other words, a woman who identifies with the patriarchal system into which

she was born; in so doing, she unconsciously disregards and diminishes herself in order

to fit into it. Put simply, Sophie‘s initial problem could be that she does not recognize or

accept her own individual value and her own feminine nature. She has not yet realized

that she has an inner purpose that may be different from the collective, and patriarchal,

norm, and that, therefore, her own self-esteem and value are still tied to the outer culture

in which she lives. In Jungian terms, as noted above, she is still embedded within ―the

first half of life‖ and has not yet discovered that there may be a potential for a more

individual second half.35

Described psychologically, one‘s younger sister could represent a younger part of

oneself, a part that may not be burdened with the same values with which one may

unconsciously identify, instead suggesting potentials one has not fully explored. As an

inner figure in one‘s dreams, she may, through these differences, provide one with a

35
Even though I say ―yet,‖ a second half of life reconciliation with the whole of one‘s own psyche, i.e.,
with the Self, is no foregone conclusion, for as Jung (1966a) stated, only some individuals are so ―called‖
(p. 239).
 159

reference point through which to recognize something of the culture into which one has

been born, as well as providing one with a potential to discover more of one‘s own. To

the extent that Sophie represents Howl‘s contrasexual other, Lettie could be seen as a

younger, and therefore less developed, anima figure. In her ability to capture the

projections of men, she could be said to fit Jung‘s second stage of anima development,

above, like a young Marilyn Monroe.

Figure 8: The Witch of the Waste leaving the hat shop (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 6: The Witch of the Waste. It is after nightfall. The Witch of the Waste

reaches out of a gondola and puts a small urn on the ground. When she taps it, the blob

men come up from the ground and return to it. Two other blob men, dressed in clothes

and masks to hide their identity, carry her gondola.

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It is also after nightfall when Sophie returns to her hat shop. After she locks the

front door, the Witch of the Waste enters and insults Sophie and the hats in the shop.

Sophie, who does not recognize the Witch, asks her to leave. The Witch calls her

“plucky” for standing up to her; then she casts a spell on Sophie that turns her into a 90-

year-old woman. The spell also makes her unable to speak about it to others. Then the

Witch of the Waste leaves, saying, “Give my regards to Howl,” as she goes out the door.

As her gondola traverses the empty square of the town, it is the only thing moving.

By telling Sophie to give Howl her regards, the Witch of the Waste shows that she

sees Howl and Sophie as connected. That the blob men do her bidding, and that she rides

in a gondola carried by them, shows that she has full control over them, which means that

she thus controls, and is supported by, this shadow masculine. From a psychological

perspective, they could be considered to be a visual representation of the shadowy

unknown and unknowable masculine energies of the collective unconscious.

The Witch of the Waste shows no compassion for Sophie. She uses her only to

carry a message to Howl in the form of a spell that she placed in Sophie‘s pocket. The

Witch of the Waste, who is powerfully large in stature, wears a large black fur shawl and

a black fur hat. Fur is, of course, representative of the animal that bore it; the individual

who wears that skin could be said, if considered symbolically, to relate somehow to that

animal.36 Even though, in this case, the type of animal is not known, that it is black and

large suggests a bear, an animal that is often symbolic of the archetypal feminine,

specifically of the Great Mother (Stevens, 1982, p. 89). Animals could be said to possess

a consciousness that is not as divided from the unconscious as human consciousness;

they, therefore, live within what seems to be a participation mystique with their
36
See, for example, the myth of Jason and the Golden Fleece.
 161

surroundings. Their consciousness thus could be said to be based more on instinct than on

intellect; that the Witch of the Waste is clothed in an animal skin, therefore, symbolically

suggests that she is somehow also defined and empowered by instinct. That the fur is

specifically black further suggests, like the black color of the blob men, that the Witch of

the Waste is also something of a denizen of the unconscious, as indicated by the fact that

she and her henchmen are the only beings moving in the town square after nightfall. Just

as she rules the uninhabited wastes, the areas outside of conscious civilization, she also

rules the dark nights between the days.

The Witch does not seem to see Sophie as a threat; rather, as one who is con-

sumed by power may do, she attempts to use her. What the Witch of the Waste wants is

to find Howl, as part of Howl‘s fate is to face the feminine. That this feminine has to

appear in such a negative form suggests that the psychic energy that it represents has

been repressed.
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Figure 9: Honey models her Kingsbury hat (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 7: Honey. The next morning Honey, Sophie‟s stepmother, returns to the

hat shop from Kingsbury, the main city. Her giant hat has a large bird sitting on it

wearing a breastplate and helmet, as well as two miniature cannons. She asks the other

young women where Sophie is and goes upstairs to her room. Sophie asks her to go

away, making the excuse that she is sick. After observing that Sophie sounds like a 90-

year-old woman, Honey leaves.

Sophie calls Honey her mother. At the same time, in the companion book to the

film and the script, Honey is described as Sophie‘s stepmother (Searleman, 2004, p. 210).

Even though this is not stated in the film itself, with her blond hair and sugary persona,

Honey looks more like an older version of Lettie, as if Lettie alone were Honey‘s only

biological daughter. Yet there are differences between Honey and Lettie. While Lettie
 163

works in a sweet shop, which suggests that she may put on a sweet persona only for

work, she does not talk to Sophie in this way. The name Honey, on the other hand, could

indicate someone who identifies with a sweet persona at all times. In Jung‘s stages of the

anima development, Honey would certainly be considered Jung‘s second stage, a woman

who identifies with her outer appearance and the role she plays for men.

This interpretation is partly backed up by the fact that Honey is so quick to leave

when she realizes Sophie is ill. Instead of appearing to care when Sophie tells her that she

is sick, she looks horrified, and gladly takes the opportunity Sophie gives her to leave.

This is also shown when, later in the film, she betrays Sophie in order to protect her

husband.

Given that Honey does not look or act like Sophie‘s biological mother, and we

already know that Sophie has lost her father, we are led to conclude that Sophie is an

orphan. Orphans, seen symbolically, are individuals who have already become separated

from their parents, and are thereby more free to develop. At the same time, psycho-

logically, being an orphan can also create a psychological wound that needs to be healed

before development can occur, such as Sophie‘s unconscious dedication to her father‘s

hat shop. Described psychologically, this particular father complex is focused on outer

appearances only, as suggested by the fashionable hats.

Honey‘s hat, considered symbolically, can tell us something about herself, as well

as something about the capital city, Kingsbury. Since a hat is something of a repre-

sentation of one‘s persona and of one‘s role in the world, it can often suggest something

about the personality and culture of the individual wearing it. The breastplate and helmet,

and the small cannons, show not only that war is in fashion in Kingsbury, but that it is
 164

also a culture that Honey accepts. Having an entire stuffed bird on her hat also shows a

lack of feeling for other creatures and for nature.37 In short, a culture that considers the

value of a bird only as an ornament, a temporary fashion statement, is a culture that

exhibits a lack of caring for and balance with nature. To the extent that Honey‘s hat

represents the collective culture in the ruling city, psychologically it could be said to

depict a psyche at war with an aspect of its own nature. If one also considers the bird to

be a masculine symbol depicting the ability to fly and ascend like spirit, then her hat is a

symbol of a feminine out of balance with the masculine.

Figure 10: Sophie discovers that she has been turned into an old woman (Suzuki &
Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 8: Leaving Home. After Honey leaves, Sophie gets out of bed and looks at

herself in the mirror. Her back creaks in complaint, but she verbally points out a few
37
The Audubon Society began to help stop the slaughter of wild birds for the fashion industry of the time,
which mostly used the feathers as ornaments on hats.
 165

positive points, that she is “still in pretty good shape,” and that her clothes “finally suit”

her. But when she hears the other young women working in the shop downstairs, she

realizes that she will not be able to return to her old job as long as she looks like a

ninety-year-old woman.

Sophie leaves and hitches a ride back to the wastes, the alpine meadows and high

slopes far above the town, on the back of a horse-drawn cart loaded high with hay. At the

end of the road, she takes a trail up into the mountains. She tells the cart driver that she

is looking for her younger sister. He warns her that there are “nothing but witches and

wizards out there.”

Even though Sophie was very upset by the spell that made her into an old woman

the night before, in the light of the morning somehow it does not look quite so bad to her.

Symbolically, the light of morning could be said to bring new light and energy, and light

is often used as a symbol for hope. By saying that the clothes suit her, however, she again

references her negative self-image, but this time consciously recognizing it as a part of

herself, thereby partly disempowering it. In a way, by physically becoming a 90-year-old

woman she has been set free from further comparing herself to the attractive young

women she had inwardly believed that she never measured up to.

Even so, Sophie‘s becoming an old woman could be said only to have made an

inner psychological problem visible. Hollis (1994) stated that wounding is sometimes

beneficial to psychological growth, for, while some wounds only cause harm, there are

others that can ―prompt us to grow up‖ (p. 64). Initiation ceremonies often contain some

ritual of wounding that somehow assists the leaving behind of an old identity and the

taking on of a new one. In Sophie‘s case, her outer image is freeing, for, by becoming an
 166

old woman, she is instantly ejected from her first half of life role as a dutiful father‘s

daughter. In this way, her spell literally thrusts her out of her father‘s house and into her

own journey.38

To the extent that Sophie identifies with her new outer image and physical

condition, she will avoid living her actual life. Psychologically, an identification with a

false image of oneself, what Winnicott called a ―false self‖ (in Kalsched, 1996, p. 125),

can lead one to bypass one‘s own psychological work in order to avoid suffering. There is

perhaps no better image of bypassing one‘s own life than of immediately becoming old.

To the extent that bypassing could become Sophie‘s problem is reflected throughout the

film, as she describes herself as nothing but an old woman and a cleaning lady, rather

than also acknowledging the young woman she still is within, thereby attending to her

own individual interests and calling.

To the extent that this spell helps propel her on her life‘s journey towards the

second half of life, it is what could be called, following Jung‘s (1967b) book of the same

title, a ―symbol of transformation.‖ Yet in the sense that it also provides additional

evidence for her negative self-image, it displays that which she needs to heal in order for

her to be able to make the necessary transition into a more personally meaningful and

integrated life. The spell could thus be called something of an initiatory wound that

Sophie must learn how to heal, or, psychologically, an image of her neurosis to which she

must attend in order to individuate. Jung (1969d) once stated that we should be thankful

for our problems, for it is only through tackling them that we learn to become more

conscious (p. 388). Through our problems we have an opportunity to discover not only

what blocks social adaptation, but also what holds personal meaning. In terms of
38
Sophie‘s journey is depicted symbolically in the movie poster for the Japanese release (see Figure 1).
 167

individuation, like personal Zen koans, our particular psychological problems have the

potential to teach us how to heal and grow into the individuals we already are, even if we

do not yet consciously recognize it.

Figure 11: Turnip Head brings Sophie a cane (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 9: Turnip Head. Sophie stops to eat something, muttering to herself that

she will not get far on her old legs. She spots a branch sticking out from a nearby bush

and believes that it might make a helpful walking stick. As she gets up, her back creaks

again and she squints in pain.

When she tries to pull the branch out, it is so stuck that she temporarily gives up.

Then, her back creaking in protest and her forehead grimacing in pain, she redoubles her

effort, saying, “You won‟t get the best of this old lady!” Then out of the bush an entire

scarecrow appears, attached to the stick. She is momentarily frightened until she recog-
 168

nizes that it is only a scarecrow, but then she notices that it is standing on its own.

Instead of being scared by this, she sees that its head is a turnip and mentions how she

has always “hated turnips.” She leaves and walks on. As she slowly climbs into the

mountains, the wind gradually increases, and the light begins to fade.

After some time she notices that Turnip Head is following her. She tells him to go

away, because she thinks it has a magic spell on it too. Turnip Head comes anyway, and

then drops a wooden walking cane, topped by a bird‟s head, beside her. She tells Turnip

Head to go find her a place to stay for the night.

Like Sophie, Turnip Head has had a spell cast on him that alters his appearance.

Yet it is a much more powerful spell, for, while it is not shown in this scene, Turnip Head

is the prince from the neighboring kingdom, and the spell not only changes his form but

also traps him in the kingdom where the narrative is set so that he cannot return to his

own. If we consider Turnip Head psychologically, the kingdom he comes from is the

collective unconscious; therefore, he is an archetype. When an archetype crosses the

border from the collective unconscious to the personal unconscious and remains there, it

could be theoretically described as an archetype becoming a complex. While a complex

has an archetypal core, because it occurs in a personal form its powers are limited.

In Jung‘s visions, which he described in detail in the Red Book (2009), after he

met a god in a mountain pass, i.e., on the border between consciousness and the

unconscious, the further the god came into his conscious world, the more it diminished in

power. Similarly, Turnip Head, in coming into Sophie‘s kingdom, had become disem-

powered, and in his weakened state a spell was cast upon him making him unable to

return. By entering into the kingdom he must have crossed the wastes, so it could seem
 169

that the spell that trapped him in a complex, cast by the Witch of the Waste. But it is

shown later in the film that it was, instead, the sorceress Madame Suliman, another

representative of the negative feminine, who used it as a pretext for war in order to gain

more psychic power, or libido.

Sophie‘s meeting with Turnip Head is fateful, for in Turnip Head she discovers

the source of the war even though she does not yet know it. Psychologically, Turnip Head

is, like Howl, another image of the psychological problem to be solved, but there is not

yet sufficient consciousness to solve it or even to recognize it. Like Parsifal‘s discovery

of the Grail castle, early in her quest Sophie has fatefully met an image of the problem to

be solved, but it is still long before she will be able consciously to understand it.

Sophie does realize that in her condition as an old woman she needs assistance;

although she reaches for it in the form of a tool, specifically a cane to support her weight,

she also discovers it in the form of an ally. Yet taking the cane requires a concerted

effort, for it does not come easily. It is stuck upside down in a bush, and it needs her

focused assistance to become right side up. To the extent that Turnip Head can be

considered an archetype trapped within a complex, or a component of the collective

unconscious trapped in the personal unconscious, he has lost his balance and equilibrium

in the process and has himself become stuck upside down.

Even though Turnip Head has, in the form of his head, her ―least favorite vege-

table,‖ Sophie does not reject him. This symbolically relates to the common motif of the

hero needing to look beyond outer appearances in order to discover something of greater

value, such as the prince inside the frog. While Sophie is not yet ready to discover the

prince, she still shows an ability to see past her own preconceptions. Similarly, while
 170

initially fearful of the magic spell on the scarecrow, she is quick to realize that, not only

does it mean her no harm, but it wants to help her. She does not carry the prejudices of

the collective, but instead is able to recognize Turnip Head for who he is and to relate to

him as an individual. Psychologically, this could be said to show an openness and

availability for change. Rather than using a masculine consciousness grounded in

discernment based upon previous knowledge and beliefs, Sophie‘s approach shows more

of a feminine consciousness based on relatedness.

It also makes sense to explore why the prince has been turned into a scarecrow.

Scarecrows are meant to frighten birds. To the extent that one can symbolically relate

masculine with sky, air, and spirit, and feminine with earth, body, and matter, a bird can

be a symbol for the masculine. Therefore, Turnip Head could be said to be trapped in an

image that is designed symbolically to scare away any masculine form of help. A

specifically masculine consciousness could be helpful, for it has the potential to bring a

higher and wider perspective to his problem, one that may be able to recognize that

Turnip Head does not belong in this kingdom. Even so, a feminine consciousness could

be said to have the potential to see through this outer disguise and relate to him on an

individual level, which might be the specific kind of help he really needs.

By putting all of her resources towards freeing Turnip Head, Sophie is able to

help him to become unstuck and put right way up again. Earlier in the film, even though

she may have had greater strength as a young woman, she was never so willful and

willing to suffer pain for her efforts. She wanted something, and she was willing to fight

for it. In gaining it, and in freeing Turnip Head, Sophie used energy, but it could be said

that she somehow gained more energy that she used. And even though the stick did not
 171

turn out to be a cane, Turnip Head provided her with a cane as well as much more.

Although Turnip Head did not attract a masculine consciousness that could understand

his predicament, he instead met a feminine one that was able to rescue and accept him,

and, as will be shown later in the film, ultimately redeem him.

By giving her a walking stick, Turnip Head could be said to model the tradition-

ally masculine role of providing the feminine with necessary support and agency in the

world. That the walking stick has a bird head could be read as Turnip Head also symboli-

cally showing Sophie something of his own masculine nature. By bequeathing a walking

stick to Sophie, he is literally providing her with masculine support. In terms of the inner

relationship between masculine and feminine within the psyche, by turning him right side

up and putting him on his ―feet,‖ Sophie models the feminine role of giving the mascu-

line a grounded point of view.

Turnip Head‘s initial problem, and Sophie‘s assistance in solving it, could be said

to foreshadow something about Howl‘s problem. Howl, we will discover, is similarly

disoriented and stuck, yet instead of having his head wedged in a bush, his head could be

said to be, as the descriptive cliché goes, ―stuck in the clouds.‖ Howl too has to await the

coming of a feminine consciousness with the necessary grounded perspective to show

him a way out of his dilemma.39 Turnip Head could also be said to be what von Franz

(1996) described as the ―shadow hero‖ (p. 114), that is, as Howl‘s archetypal shadow, the

mirror image of Howl within the unconscious; he, therefore, reflects something of Howl‘s

specific problem. Sophie could thus be said to be the contrasexual other for both. Put

39
As personified in the images of Joan of Arc, a feminine consciousness could be said to be necessary to
rally the troops, to inspire and relate them to something of value to the psyche, as well as to point the way
ahead. In other words, psychologically, this consciousness is somehow necessary in order to show not only
what is necessary to do battle with, but what is worth fighting for.
 172

most simply, the image of Sophie putting Turnip Head‘s ―feet‖ back on the ground is

symbolic of what Howl needs as well.

Figure 12: Turnip Head shows Sophie the way into Howl‘s castle (Suzuki & Miyazaki,
2004).

Scene 10: Howl’s Castle. Sophie notes “a battleship” flying across the sky above

her, and then it begins to snow. She grows cold and tired and sits on the ground, but

when she smells smoke she continues on. With a lot of groans and puffs of released

steam, Howl‟s castle appears over the ridge directly ahead of her, with Turnip Head

leading the way. Sophie tells Turnip Head that she did not mean she wanted to stay in

Howl‟s Castle.

The castle momentarily pauses directly above her, releasing all of its reserved

steam in the process and relaxing its features into a rested state. When Sophie and Turnip

Head look up at it, Sophie makes a disparaging remark about its visual appearance. It
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immediately stands and begins walking again on its way. Hopping after it, Turnip Head

shows her that there is a doorway in its rear section that is lit with a lamp. She runs

reaches the doorway, but cannot get onto the landing. She says testily, “Are you going to

let me in or not?” and jumps up. Although she manages to get onto the landing, she

drops her shawl in the process. Turnip Head hops away after it, then returning it to her.

Related to his masculine role of supporting the feminine, Turnip Head finds

Sophie assistance in the form of Howl‘s castle. With his ability to travel more quickly,

and with his large leaps into the air as he hops, Turnip Head could be said to be able to

search more broadly. He also shows an affinity for Howl‘s castle, as it seems to be

following him. This may be partially reflected in the bird motif that is similarly displayed

in the castle‘s feet. The bird head on Turnip Head‘s cane could be said to reflect some-

thing of masculine consciousness, while the castle‘s bird feet could intimate something of

masculine instinct and physical capacity. As noted above, supporting the feminine is a

motif in other myths, notably so in the tale of Eros and Psyche (in von Franz, 1992).

When Psyche is beset by challenges, she is able to overcome them not by the force of her

own capacity alone, but with the assistance of others.

Rather than accept her next step in the journey when it is offered, when the castle

stops over her, Sophie is judgmental about its appearance. This opinion could be said to

be a remnant of her past identification with collective values, but is even more likely the

instant judgment of a father complex and patriarchal values not yet outgrown. In other

words, one does not necessarily leave one‘s father‘s house and enter into a more indivi-

dually and developmentally relevant one so easily. One may carry the baggage of old

beliefs, and these may cause harm to a new relationship.

 174

When the castle resumes its journey, Sophie must again show a positive attitude

towards it. She must also choose to divest herself of past opinions, as she did with Turnip

Head, and show resolve in fighting for it. In so doing she overrides her complex of being

old and ugly that saps her energy, instead remembering her vitality and mobilizing the

libido of the young woman she still is inside. The castle could be said to desire this

outcome too, because it is only through its walking away that it shows her the way

through which to enter it. It also has a light shining in the doorway, a sign of welcome.

As Sophie leaps up on the landing, she drops her shawl. While she needed to drop

her baggage of old opinions to embrace a new opportunity, she also had to drop her old

symbolic form of protection, or armor, from the elements. In the Grail myth, Parsifal, too,

had to lose his homespun garment in order to move ahead on his quest. While the shawl

does not necessarily reflect her mother, as Parsifal‘s garment did, it does represent the

clothing she chose to wear that she felt suited her as an old woman. So, in other words, in

dropping her shawl Sophie could be said to have symbolically dropped something of her

constricting and debilitating identity in order to make a necessary leap forward in life.

Even so, after she jumps onto the landing, Turnip Head is able to retrieve her shawl for

her. It could be said that, while the feminine must put all of its resources into making a

Kierkegaardian leap of faith, one that even forces her to forget and drop a part of her

negative self-image in the process, she is given it back by a representative of the mascu-

line. The job of recognizing that it has become inappropriate clothing for her is a job for

her feminine consciousness, which she will need to develop for herself.

Turnip Head cannot enter into the castle. While it is true that Turnip Head is in a

form that cannot physically fit through the doorway, it is even more likely that he does
 175

not belong inside it because his home is in another kingdom. Because of this, he is less

tied to the ―spirit of the times,‖ and is able to be more accepting of Howl‘s castle than

others in the kingdom. To the extent that he is also the ―shadow hero,‖ or Howl‘s

archetypal shadow, he is also somehow tied to Howl‘s castle, or ego, and intuits that it is

a safe place. The situation further suggests that Turnip Head is also unconsciously

serving himself by leading Sophie to Howl‘s castle, because if she solves Howl‘s prob-

lem, since his fate is tied to Howl‘s, it will also help solve his own.

Figure 13 Sophie meets Calcifer (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 11: Calcifer. After saying goodbye to Turnip Head and thanking him,

Sophie enters the castle. Up a short staircase, she comes into a room dominated by a

large hearth with a fire in it. It is a medieval-style kitchen in which the fire is for heat,

cooking, and light. The hearth is adorned with several sculptures of deities, and the small
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fire is the only source of light in the room. Sophie throws several logs on the fire, and

then sits down in front of it for warmth. Noticing the filthy condition and disrepair of the

room and interior of the castle, and glancing at shelves loaded with old magic books and

spiders actively building webs, she mutters aloud that “One nice thing about getting old

is that nothing frightens you.”

Sophie is about to fall asleep, when the fire, Calcifer, awakens and notes the

“curse” that has been put on her. She is initially surprised that he can talk, but then asks

if he can break the spell. Calcifer instead offers her a deal. He asks her to break the spell

that he is in with Howl that traps him in the hearth and keeps him doing Howl‟s bidding,

which includes heating, cooking, and moving the castle; if she agrees, Calcifer says he

will break her spell too. Sophie says that she agrees and then immediately falls asleep.

Historically, hearths have a rich symbolism attached to them. Just as the heart is

the center of the body, the hearth holds a similar place in the home. The hearth is also the

distribution center of energy, in the form of heat and light. Before the advent of contem-

porary home-heating technologies, the occupants of homes and buildings would gather

around the hearth for cooking, heat, and light, and, especially on cold nights, would

usually sleep nearby. The hearth provided a contained area that allowed fire to burn

safely within a building without damaging either home or occupants. The hearth could

thus be said to be an ancient technology that was able to harness the energy of fire and

put it to service for human habitation.

The hearth in Howl‘s castle is used for all of these traditional purposes. The fire

within it is the only light in the room in which Sophie sits, as the cooking pots hanging

around it relate to its heating and cooking functions. This traditional use of a central fire
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dates the hearth to medieval times, when people in Europe still tended an open cooking

fire without a screen in front of it. Yet, that said, the inclusion of statues of deities

suggests an even earlier time, for in ancient times the fire in the hearth also held spiritual

associations. To tend the fire was to serve the god of the hearth. To the ancient Greeks,

for example, the hearth was the altar of the goddess Hestia. They may have personified

the hearth in feminine form because it played the feminine role of container for the sacred

element of fire.

In ancient times fire was believed to provide not only services such as light and

heat, but also protection from what could be called objective and subjective threats.

Objective threats included not only external ones such as wild animals and the elements,

but internal ones that could be hidden within uncooked food. Subjective threats included

less tangible things such as evil spirits and magic. Fire has thus played both a real and

perceived role of protector and gatekeeper since very early times, a condition described

as the ―ever watchful hearth‖ (Martin & Ronnberg, 2010, p. 578).

Yet while the hearth in Howl‘s castle may look ancient, Calcifer is no traditional

fire. In addition to playing the expected roles, he is tasked with moving the castle. More-

over, as a fire that can speak, Calcifer is shown to have a consciousness of his own, speci-

fically a masculine one. To the extent that Howl‘s castle represents Howl‘s ego, Calcifer

represents an element within the psyche that is not usually witnessed or conversed with,

therefore both unconscious and archetypal.

As shown later in the film, Calcifer is actually a fallen star, and the companion

book describes fallen stars as star ―children‖ (Searleman, 2004, p. 132). An example of

this motif in literature would be Saint Exupéry‘s The Little Prince, in which the Little
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Prince is a young boy from a star, thus akin to a fallen star.40 Since Calcifer‘s masculine

consciousness, in terms of stages of development, could similarly be described as one

that is still in a stage of adolescence, Calcifer could also be said to personify what Jung

(1969b) called the child archetype. This archetype is usually constellated when a new

solution to a problem in the psyche is necessary. For example, when the psyche comes to

a standstill due to divergent interests of the ego and the unconscious—a difficult condi-

tion that Jung described as a tension of opposites—the seed of a new solution may

emerge through a process he called the transcendent function (1969d). This solution can

be symbolized as a child, for a child metaphorically represents a new potential for life

that will be able to grow if the right conditions exist, and if it is accepted and nurtured by

the ego.

Yet as we meet Calcifer in the film, he is a fire in the hearth, or, psychologically

speaking, in what might be called the position of the heart of Howl‘s ego. This relation-

ship to Howl‘s heart is later made clear, for, unknown to him, Calcifer contains, and is

somehow bound to, Howl‘s heart and thereby protects and watches over it.41 A burning

heart could be called a heart full of emotion, yet this emotional energy is contained by the

hearth and canalized into other psychic duties. Even so, due to Calcifer‘s role as the ener-

getic source of light, heat, and mobility, he could be said to be a representation of psychic

energy.

Calcifer thus depicts a transcendent energy that Howl has captured and put into

service in the castle‘s hearth. That Calcifer describes himself as somehow stuck with

Howl in a ―curse‖ that they do not know how to break indicates that, instead of being

40
In von Franz, 1981.
41
Protecting the soul or heart by removing it from the body and keeping it in a safe place is a common
motif in fairy tales.
 179

accepted by the ego as a potential new solution to his problem, both ego and archetype

have somehow become conflated with one another through a mutual identification. As we

will see later in the film, both have thereby lost something of their independence to

become interdependent. In so doing, the archetypal solution has become harnessed to the

hearth and unable to escape it, while the ego has become empowered and inflated yet

arrested in its development. In the process, the conscious perspective of both has been

limited, so they do not have sufficient understanding that can allow them to break free.

While fire itself is the great transformer that knows no bounds, Calcifer has somehow

become contained in Howl‘s hearth, from which he needs to be transformed himself in

order to be set free.

In this scene, Calcifer has named the main mysteries of the film, the conflict that

Sophie will be instrumental in solving. Calcifer must have somehow unconsciously

recognized something in Sophie, since he allowed her into the castle and sought her

assistance. Later in the film, it will be seen that he had already met Sophie in the past

when his problem with Howl began; even though she was falling through a wormhole at

the time and may have been impossible to see, he must have remembered what she told

them: that she knew how to help them and to look for her in the future.
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Figure 14: Markle discovers Sophie in the castle (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 12: Markle. Warships parade out of the harbor of the fishing village of

Porthaven. The mayor of the town walks to the door of a house bearing a sign reading

“The Great Wizard Jenkins,” and then knocks on the door.

Inside Howl‟s castle, Sophie is sleeping in her chair by the fire, when someone

begins knocking on the door. Markle, Howl‟s young apprentice, finally comes running in;

when he sees Sophie, he asks Calcifer who she is. Calcifer responds by saying,

“Porthaven Door.” Markle puts on a disguise that makes him look like an adult, turns a

colored dial on the door handle, and opens the door. The Mayor asks Markle if the great

Wizard Jenkins is at home, and when Markle says he is not, the Mayor hands Markle an

invitation for Jenkins from the King, saying, “The time of war is upon us, and His

Majesty requires that every witch and wizard aid our homeland.”
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Markle closes the door and asks Calcifer if Sophie is a witch, because she came in

from the wastes. Calcifer states that, if she was, there is no way he would have let her in.

There is another knock at the door, and Markle again dons his disguise and administers a

potion to a “customer,” a young girl.

A parade of fresh, clean warships leaving with fanfare suggests that a war is about

to begin. The door of Howl‘s castle now leads to Porthaven, a village by the sea, and the

castle has taken on the disguise of a normal building. Calcifer instructed Markle to access

the ―Porthaven door,‖ which he did by manipulating a switch on the door handle. That

the Mayor summoned Wizard Jenkins shows that, while Howl is known here, it is under

that disguise.

Markle is a boy of approximately twelve years of age. That he answers the door in

Howl‘s stead, and from both the tone of Calcifer‘s instructions and Markle‘s ease with

responding to outsiders, it appears to be his usual duty to manage Howl‘s business.

Psychologically, by putting on a disguise as an adult with a long beard, Markle shows

that he has created a persona for the purpose. But no sooner is he back inside than he

removes it. It does not appear that he identifies with this older persona, but uses it only

because there is no adult at home to answer the door. Even so, Markle consciously iden-

tifies himself as Howl‘s apprentice.

Described psychologically, to the extent that the occupants of Howl‘s castle are

parts of Howl himself, Markle could be considered a younger, more innocent part of

Howl from the time before he fully became a wizard. His relationship to Calcifer, as he

asks who Sophie is, seems almost like one sibling making an inquiry of an older one.

That Markle is learning to use a disguise, and that Howl and Calcifer, i.e., the castle, use
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a similar means to conceal their identity and location, provide one more clue that Howl is

in hiding.

Figure 15: Markle opening the front portal door to Porthaven.

Scene 13: The Portal. Sophie peeks out the window and sees Porthaven and the

sea. When the doorbell rings, Calcifer says, “It‟s the Kingsbury door.” Markle turns the

door handle dial to red, and then opens the door. An official wearing a red uniform with

gold tassels hands Markle a note and asks for Mr. Pendragon to report for duty. Sophie

walks out onto the landing and sees that the door has opened upon “the royal city,”

although from outside the building the door is attached to look like any other. Sophie

goes back inside and turns the door handle dial to green; then she opens the door and

steps outside, where she sees the bottom of the castle sitting upon the mountain heath, as
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it was when she entered it, again surrounded by fog. After going back inside, she asks

Markle where the black color on the dial leads, and he tells her that “only Howl knows

that.”

Sophie discovers that the doorway is a portal that simultaneously opens to four

different locations, even though it is still in the wastes where she entered it. She also

realizes that, at two of the locations, not only does the building display a different façade,

but Howl himself is known by a different name.

The colors of the door handle dial could be said to be indicative of the location to

which they open. Since blue is the color of the sea, it is fitting for the seaside town of

Porthaven. Since red is a color associated with royalty, the color on the dial is an exact

match for the red color of the uniform worn by the King‘s official. Green, which is the

color of vegetation, is fitting for the green meadows in the mountains. While the black

portal is still a mystery in this part of the film, later on it is shown to be the color of the

dark realm to which the door opens whether it is day or night in the other portal locations.

This black space could be said to portray either the night sky or an empty, archetypal

void, the latter being more likely, since, in the next scene, Howl returns from it while it is

daylight at the three other locations.

One way to describe the portal is that it opens to four locations that portray a

quaternity of opposites, which Jung (1970b) believed to be a symbolic means of

describing the whole psyche (p. 203). This fourfold nature has been symbolically repre-

sented in such disparate examples as the Christian cross, four directions, four sacred

elements, and, specifically within Jungian psychology, four psychological functions. In

the specific case in the film, two of these opposites are aligned on a collective, or cul-
 184

tural, axis, one signifying the center or power and cosmopolitan urban hub in the middle

of the kingdom, and the other a quaint and timeless rural village at the seaside fringe. The

other two could be said to describe opposites along an archetypal axis, with nature and

matter on one side, and an empty void on the other.42

That Howl‘s ego‘s ―door‖ is able to open to all of these realms, and that he has

dealings in each, is indicative of an ego consciousness that is involved in the recognition

and differentiation of opposites. Yet that Howl, who could also be said to be a symbolic

embodiment of the ego, is not responding to each as himself, but under pseudonyms, may

be indicative of an ego that that is less motivated towards a progressive, conscious differ-

entiation of opposites that would lead to individuation than towards a management

strategy focused on avoidance. Even so, this seems as if it is about to change with regard

to his means of dealing with the collective, at least; with the Mayor stating that the ―time

of war is upon us,‖ and with representatives insisting that Howl must report to the King,

his ability to deceive and deflect seems like it is over. It could be said that Howl has been

summoned to deal head-on with his problem with the collective.

Psychologically, this portal could also be said to provide additional details to the

question of Howl‘s castle‘s mobility and security. As stated above, that the castle is

moving in the wastes is already indicative of a psyche that is nomadic and does not have

a place to call its own. With its portal also entering into three other realms, i.e., to a total

of four locations, it also indicates an ego consciousness that is even further divided and

on alert. Calcifer‘s resources are used not only to move the castle, but also to keep a

watchful eye on all four locations for possible threats. Thus the psychic energy that could

42
Put another way, these two axes could be said to reflect something of both first and second half of life
problems, one related to finding one‘s place in the collective culture, and the other to finding one‘s
individual place in life‘s psychoid and archetypal givens.
 185

be canalized into a new venture is being split into multiple tasks based upon defense. In

psychoanalytic theory, splitting refers to an unconscious defense system in which the ego

protects itself through a kind of dissociative fragmentation. That Howl‘s door leads in

multiple directions, and that Howl himself has divested himself of the responsibility of

minding them all, could also be described as a kind of ―defensive splitting‖ (Kalsched,

1996, p. 86).

Howl seems only to use the black portal; in so doing, he defends himself not only

by having Calcifer and Markle mind the other portal locations, all in the name of his two

alternative identities, Pendragon and Jenkins, but also by taking on a magical form in an

archetypal realm. In so doing, it could be said that Howl defends himself against becom-

ing frozen in his fear by the inflation of taking on a powerful, archetypal form and by

inhabiting an interstitial realm of endless opportunity. And yet, because Howl does not

take up any of the opportunities it might offer, it is fitting that this realm also be one of

perpetual darkness. All these defenses define what Jung called the problem of the puer

aeternus, as mentioned above. Von Franz (1980) suggested that an individual identified

with the archetype of the puer aeternus unconsciously attempts to avoid suffering by

―playing both sides and risking neither,‖ and also by carrying an inflated sense of

identity. In this way the puer ―arrests the process of life and gets stuck, for even the

interplay of opposites is thwarted‖ (pp. 155-156).

 186

Figure 16: Sophie prepares to cook breakfast on Calcifer (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 14: Cleaning Lady. Markle indicates that he is hungry and is about to

make himself a snack. When Sophie asks about cooking a real breakfast, Markle says that

only Howl is able to cook on Calcifer. Sophie takes some bacon and eggs and a pan over

to Calcifer, who also tells her that only Howl can cook on him. When she whispers to

him, “Maybe I should tell them about our bargain,” he starts to protest. Sophie puts the

pan on him and starts cooking. Markle is surprised that she is able to cook on Calcifer,

and fetches a kettle for her while Calcifer continues to complain bitterly.

Howl enters the room from the black portal, and Markle tells him that he has been

summoned to report to the palace as both Pendragon and Jenkins. Howl comes over to

Sophie and notes that Calcifer is being “obedient.” Calcifer says that Sophie “bullied”

him, and Howl observes that “not just anyone can do that.” Howl asks Sophie who she is,
 187

and she introduces herself as “Grandma Sophie, the new cleaning lady,” telling him that

Calcifer hired her.

Howl takes over the cooking, making them all bacon and eggs with a graceful

ease. As he does so, he throws the eggshells to Calcifer, who eats them. Howl moves

some magic books aside to make room for them all to have breakfast on the large kitchen

table. Holding up two spoons and a fork, Markle asks Sophie to choose only one utensil,

because the rest are dirty. As Howl serves, Sophie absentmindedly brushes dirt off the

table, muttering, “I certainly have my work cut out for me.” Markle says, “I can‟t

remember the last time we had a real breakfast.”

As before on the wastes, Sophie uses her newfound determination, as well as the

fearlessness she exhibited when she entered the castle and first spoke to Calcifer, in order

to cook on him. Whether Calcifer allows her to do so because he does not want anyone to

know about the deal they struck, or whether Sophie actually has the power to control him

is unclear, but when she puts a pan on him and he accepts it, it appears as if she does. It

also looks like Sophie had an intuition that she would be able to do it.

Cooking a traditional meal, rather than just allowing Markle to eat a snack, could

be said to be a standard role for the feminine. Nurturing and sustaining, feeding and

caring, are roles that have long been ascribed to women, whether socially appropriate or

not. Even so, when Howl asks her to introduce herself, she does so not as his cook but as

his cleaning lady. This could be a clever reference to the pact that Calcifer, who could be

called the agent of Howl‘s heart, had made with her. The pact itself could be restated as a

commitment to help them clean up the mess in which they find themselves.
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Introducing herself as a cleaning lady could also have both negative and positive

connotations. The negative connotation is obvious for someone who feels that she is not

beautiful and not worthy of anything other than cleaning up other people‘s mess. But the

positive relates to the fact that she has already seen that Howl‘s castle is ―a dump‖ and

needs to be cleaned. Howl‘s castle has come to be crawling with spiders and cobwebs,

because all of its energy has been used on the outside to move the castle, while the inside

has been stagnant and moldering and could use a good cleaning out. Introducing herself

as a grandmother also potentially has positive and negative connotations. If she identifies

herself with old age and forgets that she is still young inside, it could go along with her

image of herself as not beautiful and not individually valuable. Yet describing herself

specifically as a grandmother identifies her as experienced, useful, and even potentially

wise. These are traits that she can use, and this is indeed how she acts and seems. Even

so, this role, no matter how helpful, is still a persona, and for her own healing she would

need to recognize and claim these same abilities for her inner, and younger, self without

labeling herself as something she is not.

Like Calcifer, Howl accepts Sophie‘s presence immediately and fully. While it

does not seem that he recognizes her as the girl whom he saved, when he sees her briefly

become young again later in the film he similarly does not show any surprise. He accepts

her immediately as if he does somehow recognize her, and as if she already belongs.

Through the lens of Jungian psychology, Sophie could be said to be somehow familiar to

him because she is already an integral part of his psyche. To the extent that Sophie repre-

sents his feminine nature, Howl‘s acceptance of her tending his hearth and fire, his

innermost resources, and his allowing her free rein to clean his castle, his ego container,
 189

could be said to be indicative of an ego ready to begin to accept a less dictatorial role in

the psyche, and potentially even to transition towards the second half of life.

Furthermore, by taking over the cooking she had begun, Howl also followed

Sophie‘s lead. This is significant for, as Markle notes, they have not had a ―real break-

fast‖ for some time, suggesting that they have not been taking care of their own needs for

sustenance. All of them sitting down at a table to eat together could be seen as an image

of a return to psychic interrelatedness and health; it specifically being a breakfast may

hint of a fueling up with energy for the new day ahead. It is also significant in that it

shows that Sophie is already having an influence over Howl. While it could be said that

she seems to be enacting the traditional feminine role of nurturing, Howl shows that he is

able to take on this role for himself. Thus it could also be said that, by following her lead,

he is falling into a traditional masculine role of supporting the feminine.

The eggs they eat can be considered to be another bird motif that symbolizes a

new potential; as a breakfast food they may be symbolic of a new day and opportunity for

growth. That Calcifer ate the shells, as well as Howl‘s uneaten eggs, also shows that they

hold energy. Egg shells are mostly calcium, and, while this is a bit of a stretch, the

calcium in them also be said to relate to Calcifer‘s name, a name with alchemical

connotations that suggests the chemical conversion of limestone to quick lime, or calx.43

In alchemy the act of calcinatio suggests a process of heating and drying; it could be

called a symbolically masculine process of restoration after being drowned and dissolved

in a more symbolically feminine solutio. Psychologically, calcinatio suggests a psychic

43
When water is added to calx, as alchemists noted, it becomes hot and energized due to a chemical
reaction.
 190

transformation that reduces matter to its essential constituents so that new life can re-

emerge, like a phoenix from the ashes.

Figure 17: The Witch of the Waste‘s note for Howl (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 15: The Message. Howl asks Sophie what is in her pocket. Sophie finds a

folded note, which she passes towards him. When it is between their outstretched hands it

falls to the table and bursts into flame, leaving the burning imprint of an image. Howl

says that it is “ancient sorcery” and reads the image aloud: “You who swallowed a

falling star, oh heartless man, your heart shall soon belong to me.” Howl swipes his

hand across it and makes the image disappear, but he notes that the spell is still there.

The burning note is a message to Howl from the Witch of the Waste, who put it

into Sophie‘s pocket for her to bring to Howl. It describes Howl‘s condition and what she

wants from him, stating that he has swallowed a star and has no heart, and warning that

she will soon own it. Yet like many dream images, it does not provide sufficient detail by

itself to explain all of the events nor how they are connected to one another. So, while it
 191

may reveal something of his true problem and foreshadow a future threat, it does not

provide a means to understand or avert it.

Like a riddle, it describes Howl as already heartless, while also stating that he will

lose his heart. Yet this is not completely true, for, as noted above, we learn much later in

the film that Calcifer is the guardian of Howl‘s heart even though he does not know it.

Thus to be called heartless is actually a misreading of the situation, for, even though

Howl does not have his heart in his chest, he still has a relationship with it in what could

be called the center of his ego container. Psychologically speaking, it has been placed

under the protection and control of an archetypal representation.

The image of the spell matches this interpretation. It shows one-half of a mandala,

which, following Jung, could be said symbolically to represent half of a whole human

psyche. On the other side, it shows a falling star, a heart, and an image of what may be

called a masculine spirit, a heartless man. These three images could be said to depict the

elements involved in splitting apart the mandala, an image of Howl‘s psychic wholeness.

If these elements could once again come into a proper relationship, this might provide a

hint towards Howl‘s healing.

This scene could be said to show what the Witch of the Waste wants, namely,

Howl‘s heart, or what could be called the symbolic center of his life, the feminine feeling

and intuitive side of his personality, and the center of his energy and passion. Through

discovering what the Witch of the Waste wants, and how necessary this part is for Howl‘s

own survival, we, as viewers, can begin to understand why Howl has put so much effort

toward attempting to hide from her, including having multiple portals in his doorway

away from the wastes. That the Witch of the Waste can use ancient sorcery also implies
 192

that she is similarly ancient. Yet at this point in the narrative one can still wonder why he

has any reason to be in the wastes at all.

Figure 18: Sophie vigorously cleans the castle (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 16: A Thorough Cleaning. After reading the scorch marks, Howl leaves

the breakfast table to ready himself to go out and feeds Calcifer his breakfast. Markle

asks Sophie if she is working for the Witch of the Waste. Sophie cannot respond to him

due to the curse and has an angry outburst instead. Then Sophie gets to work cleaning

the kitchen, directing her anger towards her efforts. She vigorously mops the floor and

sweeps the rafters, muttering to herself, “I‟m tired of being treated like a timid old lady.”

Sophie then picks up an ember that Calcifer is clinging to and, against Calcifer‟s

pleas to put him back, balances the ember on a pot while she sweeps out the ashes.

Calcifer is barely able to hold on and implores Sophie to help him, yet she does not seem
 193

concerned as she busily sweeps. When she leaves to dump the ashes, the ember breaks

and Calcifer falls to the bottom of the pot, emitting a puff of smoke that signals that his

fire has gone out. Howl appears, pours a beating blue blob out of the pot into his hand,

and then blows on it until it flames.

Howl has Calcifer burning again in the fireplace when Sophie returns, and tells

her that he would appreciate it if she looked after his friend. Howl tells Markle to make

sure that Sophie does not get carried away cleaning; then he turns the switch on the

portal to black. While there is, at first, light through the window above the blue portal, it

becomes dark when he turns the switch to the black portal. When he opens the door to the

black portal, it shows darkness above and flames below as far as one can see.

After Howl leaves, Calcifer says to Sophie, “If I die, Howl does too, I hope you

know.” As she walks past him, she says “You‟re all right; now quit bothering me, I have

a job to do.” Calcifer hides from her behind a log. Sophie gets to the bottom of the stairs

when Markle runs in front of her and blocks her way. She says, “Whatever you don‟t

want me to clean, you better hide it now.” Markle runs upstairs, while she observes,

“These little outbursts seem to be giving me some energy.”

Much like before, when Sophie used her effort and will to pull Turnip Head out of

the bush and set him upright, Sophie again gained energy from passion. As she noted

after her cleaning, these ―little outbursts‖ provide her with energy rather than take it

away. When she dreamily minded her father‘s store and followed what she believed to be

her father‘s wishes, all of her passion for her own tasks had been forced to go under-

ground, i.e., into the unconscious. But in her new role as ―Grandma Sophie‖ she finds

that her anger and passion can be used, that if she aligns herself to her natural way of life
 194

her life‘s energy is able to feed and empower her actions. That she was able to note that

her outbursts provide her with energy shows her first conscious awareness of this inner

fact. Yet even so, her statement that she is ―tired of being treated like a timid old lady‖

still shows the problem of her complex, for it is still a fiction. She is actually a timid

young woman who is using her elderly visage as something of a crutch.

When Calcifer is left hanging from an ember, he visually shows his secret. A blue

object is shown hanging within him at the lowest part of his flame. That this is Howl‘s

heart becomes clear, when we see it beating in Howl‘s hand while he blows on it to

brings Calcifer‘s flame back to life. Even so, Sophie is so caught up in her task and her

newfound energy that she misses it. This could be said to suggest that she is partly

identified with, and inflated by, her new role as crone. The crone, the wise old woman

who is rich in experience and wisdom, is an archetype (Woodman, 1993), and, to the

extent that Sophie identifies with this role, she may miss that which might be in front of

her.

It is likely that Calcifer himself does not know he has Howl‘s heart. The heart lies

within him, and we can see it only because we can see through his flame. In this way,

Calcifer could be said to show visually that a solution to the problem of identification or

possession can require an outside perspective. Calcifer and Howl might need Sophie to

help heal their problem, for only she may have the ability to see it. Thus, psychologically,

to Howl Sophie may be something of a psychic necessity, for she alone seems able to

compensate for his one-sidedness. Any efforts by her to help him thereby reflect some-

thing of the self-regulatory function of the psyche.

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Figure 19: Sophie and Markle arrive at Star Lake (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 17: Star Lake. Sophie goes upstairs to clean, but when she looks out the

window she is amazed to see that the castle is moving along a rugged ridgeline with a

dizzying, pristine river flowing far below. She goes back inside and asks Calcifer if he is

moving the castle. When he says he is, Sophie compliments him, whereupon he excitedly

burns brighter and blows steam out of the castle‟s vents. She runs upstairs and onto a

high veranda, from which she sees a series of high peaks surrounding a pristine lake.

They traverse a forested meadow, past a herd of wild animals running through the grass.

Markle joins her, telling her that the lake below is Star Lake. Sophie spots a pole sticking

out of a vent in the castle; when she realizes that it is Turnip Head, she gets Markle to

help turn him right side up again. She notes that he always gets stuck upside down, and

also that he seems to be following her and to have “taken a liking” to her.
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The castle stops at Star Lake, and Turnip Head helps them dry the laundry.

Sophie notes that Turnip Head might be a demon, but recognizes that since he led her to

the castle he must be good. She has lunch and then sits by the water, while Markle and

Turnip Head finish the laundry. She says, “When you‟re old, all you want to do is stare at

the scenery,” adding that she feels the “most peaceful” she has ever felt.

In this scene Sophie experiences, for the first time, that the castle is actually

moving as she is within it. She is thereby able to discover that she is part of something

larger than her own singular course through life. She has, in fact, become part of a group

of individuals, one that is not static, as her previous life was, but dynamic. One could say

that this life is in the process of change, although Sophie is likely not yet conscious that

this movement in any way relates to healing or growth.

Sophie also is able to experience the natural landscape for its beauty and serenity.

She notes that she is able not only to relax in it and enjoy it, but to do so much more than

she has ever experienced before. This suggests that, even though she dreamily stared out

the window at the same landscape when she was working at the beginning of the film,

she was somehow separated from the experience of it. In her village she looked as if

caught in a daydream-like reverie, rather than relating to the world around her directly as

in this scene. Here she seems emotionally engaged and energized, and so unselfconscious

that she forgets to hunch and move like an old woman, instead rushing ahead like the

young one she still is within to get a better view. This shows yet again that, when her

emotions engage her and enable her to forget her negative self-image, she is able to feel

the psychic energy and flow of life within and rise above her own psychological problem.
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Psychologically, this describes a person being able to separate from an identification with

a complex and a false sense of self.

Sophie also shows that she is able to recognize Turnip Head as good, even though

he probably is ―a demon.‖ She thereby shows that she is not constrained by collective

ideas and values, but is able to come to her own conclusions based upon her own direct

experience. In so doing she shows fairness, awareness, and even some amount of

wisdom. She also shows a similar ability when she compliments Calcifer.

While Sophie is able to recognize value in the male figures in this scene, they all

show, through their actions, that they also recognize something of value in her. When

Calcifer is complimented by her, he is exuberant. Turnip Head again helps Sophie out in

any way he can, and so does Markle, who assists Turnip Head while Sophie rests. This

may generally reflect something of traditional masculine and feminine roles, one of

which could be said to support and empower the other, while the other could be said to

relate and reflect back to the one. Even though one male developmental task is to separate

and differentiate from the maternal matrix from which he has come, he also must learn to

serve, as Tacey (1997) put it, ―a higher form of the feminine, to the inspiratrice, beloved,

or Lady Soul‖ (p. 7). It could be said that the male individuals in this scene, to the extent

that they represent aspects of Howl‘s psyche, recognize Sophie as a representation of this

higher feminine.

That Howl‘s castle specifically moves to such a pristine lakeside is not only an

image of healing in itself, but also one of redemption of what has thus far been called the

―wastes‖ to be what they truly are: an unspoiled landscape that is the image of both

ecological health and natural beauty. Instead of being only the home of a witch, or what
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could be called an image of the negative feminine, it is an image of the positive feminine

and even the great mother herself. That Howl‘s castle comes to such a place, and that

Markle already knows it, show that they already have something of a positive relationship

with the natural world and the archetype of the great mother.

In the symbol system of alchemy, this scene at Star Lake could be said to repre-

sent what Edinger (1985) described as a ―lesser coniunctio‖ (p. 212). The coniunctio

marks the end of the alchemical opus, when matter and spirit are united into the philos-

opher‘s stone, or, psychologically, when the unconscious and conscious are balanced and

united and one becomes individuated. Of course, this is an ideal goal of the venture, and

one that is likely never fully achieved in one‘s life. Even so, along the way there are

times when things briefly come into a temporary balance, which illustrates the lesser

coniunctio (Edinger, 1985). This is what is shown in this relaxing and restorative scene at

Star Lake.

Even so, in relation to Howl‘s castle, or, psychologically, his ego‘s house, this

balance is reflected only in its green portal. In the psychic tasks represented by the red

and blue portals, Howl still needs to report to his summons. In the task represented by the

black portal, at this point in the film Howl‘s specific problem and progress towards a

solution remain a mystery. In other words, for a lasting psychological solution, more

work still needs to be done.

If this is the Witch of the Waste‘s domain, it begs the question of where she is.

From the example provided earlier in the film, as well as ones that come later, we could

say that she is busy searching for Howl in inhabited areas. The reason why Howl‘s castle

is safe in the wastes is probably because the Witch is elsewhere. Just as Sophie is not able
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to see Howl‘s heart inside Calcifer even though, as the cliché goes, it is right under her

nose, the Witch of the Waste similarly cannot find the location of Howl‘s castle even

though it is hiding in her own back yard.

Figure 20: Howl surveys the bombed and burning countryside (Suzuki & Miyazaki,

2004).

Scene 18: Howl’s War. Howl is flying as a bird in the night sky. Below him

buildings are burning. Two large groups of planes come towards each other, and begin

blasting each other to pieces. Some flying salamander monsters come out of one of the

ships and chase after Howl. He bursts through them, flying up towards an opening in the

clouds to blue sky. As soon as he goes through, the hole in the clouds closes and the

flying salamanders turn back and scatter.

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Inside the kitchen of the castle, the portal switch changes to black and the window

above the door turns dark. Howl comes into the house. At first he is transparent like a

ghost, and then slowly he becomes solid. He is still covered in feathers as he slumps onto

a chair in front of the hearth. Calcifer tells him he should not keep turning himself into a

bird and flying, because soon he will not be able to “turn back into a human.” Howl tells

Calcifer that there is bombing going on throughout the kingdom, mentioning the other

wizards who have already reported for duty to the palace and have been turned into

monsters. Calcifer says that they will not be able to turn back after the war, but then

reminds Howl that he still has to report to the palace himself.

As Howl walks by where Sophie is sleeping, he looks in at her. She does not

appear as an old woman but as her younger self.

Juxtaposed to the previous scene, which could be said to show Sophie and the

others relating to the beneficence of the great mother behind the green portal, this scene

similarly shows Howl‘s relationship to the great father behind the black one. Yet unlike

the portrayal of the great mother, it could be said to depict both sides of the archetype. It

is shown in relation to war and conflict, a motif that is analogously embodied in Mars, the

ancient Greek god of war. But it also shows the positive side of the great father in the

form of the blue sky to which Howl can fly for safety. This is the second time in the film

when Howl has sought safety by flying straight up into the sky, and it will be repeated.

Described psychologically, it shows Howl has found a means to take refuge somehow in

the archetype of the great father, and it also shows that he needs this refuge.

Unlike the Witch of the Waste‘s archetypal henchmen, these monsters are able to

fly after him, yet they are not able to pursue him straight up into the blue sky and must
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fall back. As Howl describes these monsters, they are in the employ of the palace, i.e., the

ruling masculine symbolized by the king. But, as will be shown later, they serve him in

name only, for the king is only a puppet of Madame Suliman, the palace sorceress. It is

she who calls the wizards to duty and who turns them into monsters. It is also she who

has started the war in the first place. In other words, Madame Suliman has taken over the

role of patriarch, and serving her, as Calcifer noted in this scene, does not lead to

initiation into an adult male role but rather into a possession. The example of what

happened to these wizards is illustrative of what will happen to Howl if he similarly

reports for duty to the palace. If he accepts the summons, somehow he too will lose his

humanity forever.

That Sophie turns back into her young self when she sleeps shows that there is

something about her waking identity that affects the spell that is on her. Described

psychologically, this shows that her condition reflects a psychological problem related to

her conscious identity or persona, and that it does not extend to her whole psyche or even

her relationship with her unconscious, i.e., that part of her that she inhabits while she is

sleeping.
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Figure 21: Crowds in Porthaven gather to view the burning battleship.

Scene 19: Porthaven. Sophie and Markle go shopping in Porthaven. While they

are buying vegetables and fish, a heavily damaged and burning battleship returns to the

harbor. As it comes nearer, the townspeople rush to the harbor to watch as its sailors

begin jumping off the ship into the sea. Sophie notices the Witch of the Waste‟s henchmen

looking for them in the crowd, so she and Markle hide until they pass. She observes that

none of the townspeople seemed to notice the henchmen. An enemy plane drops a few

bombs into the water to get their attention, before dropping propaganda leaflets over

them. When the henchmen move on, Sophie and Markle rush back to the castle to warn

Howl.

After the parades and buildup at the beginning of the war, this is the first time the

citizens realize that the war is not going in their favor. It can be assumed that the other
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ships that had paraded out of the harbor have already sunk at sea. The sailors do not even

wait until they are docked to jump ship. The film has still has not shown the reason for

the war, or even who is the aggressor in the conflict, and there is no way to ascribe any

meaning to the suffering. To see their strongest ships destroyed so quickly sends a wave

of shock and fear through the townspeople. While Howl already knew that there was

bombing across the kingdom, this is a wake-up call to the general population. Psycho-

logically, a war could be said to depict a psyche in conflict with itself. This specific war,

one of which little is understood and which seems grossly mismatched from the

beginning, describes a psyche that is not only suffering without the aid of a diagnosis, but

also one that looks to have a potentially dire prognosis.

Unlike Sophie‘s hometown, in which signs were in French and posters were in

German, here the village signs are all in English. Even so, the sailors who jump off the

ships wear German World War I uniforms. In other words, unlike the real First World

War in which European countries were at war with each other, this film shows an

undivided Europe that is at war with an external, unnamed, and unknowable threat.

Psychologically, from a Jungian perspective, this could be said to describe the realm of

the collective unconscious, that space that is forever beyond the mountains, yet whose

inhabitants have always been able to exert a fateful control over the lives of all

individuals.

Even though the townspeople see the collective war, they do not notice the

monsters that walk among them in the form of the henchmen of the Witch of the Waste.

For the collective townspeople, this could be said to describe the psychological condition

of an everyday, unconscious filtering of data that occurs in order to make lives less
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overwhelming. It shows a cultural bias for that which is objective, i.e., the sinking ship,

rather than that which is subjective, the embodiment of archetypal factors. This could be

said to portray something of the defense mechanism of denial that accompanies most

people‘s everyday lives. Yet Sophie does not have such an unconscious filtering ability.

She cannot help but recognize the henchmen, because she has already seen them and

become conscious of them before.

Figure 22: Howl is upset and begins to dissolve (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 20: Howl’s Tantrum. Sophie and Markle have only just returned to the

castle when Howl comes running down the stairs yelling. He tells Sophie to look at his

hair, which has turned bright orange. It then turns to black, and she says that he should

look at its color now for “It‟s even better!” Howl slumps in his chair, saying, “I give up.

I see no point in living if I can‟t be beautiful.” The room starts to get dark, and mon-
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strous shadows begin to circle the walls. Markle says that Howl is calling on the powers

of darkness, and that he has seen this all before when Howl was “dumped” from a prior

relationship. When Sophie reaches to touch Howl, she realizes that he is oozing water as

if he were melting.

Sophie steps back, exclaiming that she has “never been beautiful” in her “whole

life.” She runs outside onto the meadow by the lake and cries in the rain. When Turnip

Head comes with an umbrella for her, she asks how he became so nice. Markle, who is

worried about Howl, comes running to fetch Sophie, who returns to find Howl slumped

over the hearth, about to drown Calcifer in all the water he is releasing. Sophie tells

Markle and Calcifer that he is only having a tantrum, after which she takes Howl upstairs

to the bathroom, where she asks Markle to “clean him up” in the bathtub.

In this scene we see that Howl shares a similar problem with Sophie. Both of

them feel that they are not naturally beautiful. Yet while the young Sophie did not believe

she was beautiful even when wearing a hat, Howl believed that his magic could make

him beautiful through dying his hair an attractive color. Hair, like hats, is an expression

of our persona, the image we show to the outer world. While Sophie is identified with

being unattractive, Howl is identified with being artificially beautiful. In both cases, to

the extent that they are identified with their persona, part of the solution to their problems

is to recognize and accept who they actually are. Both need to let go of their false self-

image and grow into their true one.

Losing his attractive persona visibly upsets Howl, who decides that he may as

well give up. His outer visage played a role for him, that of attracting beautiful women,

with which he identified, as we learned in the beginning of the film. His attraction to the
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hearts of young women could be said to be an attraction to his own feminine nature,

which, since he had not consciously recognized and accepted it, he could meet only

through projection. Put another way, because he has not fully separated from the maternal

matrix from which he came, he has not been able to recognize his own feminine side as

his own, not without but within. Therefore, Howl may want to ―give up‖ specifically

because he feels that he will never be able to rediscover this necessary part of himself.

At the same time, giving up on such a false external quest to find something that

is actually internal is probably of absolute necessity for his own psychological develop-

ment. That Sophie discarded the magic he used for dying his hair while she was cleaning

up shows that she did not recognize the role it played in his life, or the value that he

placed on it. Thus to the extent that Sophie is an embodiment of Howl‘s unconscious

feminine, this shows that his own feminine side does not recognize the value that his hair

color plays for his ego. Instead, it invites Howl to look at the new shade of his hair which

―is even better than the last.‖ In other words, she hopes that Howl will open his eyes and

look at himself anew, rather than fret over a loss that does not matter.

Howl could be said to be caught in a vortex of an overwhelming emotional surge

of feeling associated with the mother complex. He could be considered temporarily

possessed by this feeling to dissolve regressively into the great mother, here symbolized

by water. In alchemical symbolism, dissolving into solution represents the psychological

function of solutio, a dissolution into the matrix from which we all come. As Edinger

(1985) noted, ―water was thought of as the womb, and solutio as a return to the womb for

rebirth‖ (p. 47). Yet in this case of Howl‘s solution process, instead of, from a develop-

mental perspective, being transformative, it is regressive. Going back is indeed giving up,
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for there is no new life to be had there. Rather, it could be said to be seeking the mother

as a kind of impulse for death.44

Instead of Sophie‘s words of advice helping Howl to pull out of his complex, they

have no effect. What is worse, Howl‘s reaction to his negative self-image triggers

Sophie‘s similar problem with her own self-image. She is also seized by great emotion,

although unlike Howl she releases it in the form of tears, which could also be called a

solutio process of dissolving her emotional state, but not regressively dissolving herself at

the same time. That the natural world symbolically mirrors this release of tears in the

form of rain, which also provides a positive, life-giving symbol of renewal, suggests that

Sophie‘s inner state is reflected in the scene‘s natural setting.45 In either case, rather than

regressive, Sophie‘s action of crying is progressive, for she is able to release herself from

her own complex and to return to help Howl.

Sophie calls Howl‘s state of anxiety ―a tantrum,‖ for, as she had just experienced

herself, it is an overwhelming emotional reaction to the problem that instigated it, but in a

regressive and therefore childish form. Even though Howl is still in a state of uncon-

scious dissolution, she helps him, but not by drying him out with a masculine, drying fire

of calcinatio, which has already been shown not to help, as when Howl almost drowned

Calcifer. Instead, true to her feminine nature, Sophie could be said to provide Howl with

a new and more positive experience of the feminine through which he can learn to accept

his problem. By taking him to the tub to bathe, she could be said to instigate a solutio

44
Neumann (1954) called this urge that seeks ―a final dissolution into union with the mother‖ uroboric
incest (p. 17), for, like an image of a snake eating its own tail, an exhausted ego can turn away from its urge
to individuate and instead seek ―self-surrender and regression‖ (p. 17).
45
While it is a stretch, they could both be said to be symbolically representative of the feminine. Sophie
and the natural setting might be two symbols for the same principle.
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experience, one which enables him to wash away his temporary identification with the

old complex.

Even when Howl leaves puddles on the floor on the way to the bathroom, her

solution to the problem is just to mop them up. Symbolically, it could be said to be an

image of washing water in order to release its contaminants, in this case his temporary

possession by, and identification with, the mother complex. Or, seen through a lens of

Christian symbolism, Sophie‘s bathing could be seen as similar to the experience of

baptism that allows Howl to be born anew and divested of the mother. In either case,

Sophie and the others assist Howl through his difficult passage, in a scene that could be

said to foreshadow something of Howl‘s more difficult passage at the climax of the film.

Figure 23: Sophie talks with Howl in his bedroom (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).
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Scene 21: Howl’s Recovery. Howl lies in bed, in a bedroom full of colorful

magical paraphernalia and decorations. Sophie knocks and enters the room bringing

warm milk, which he refuses, even while asking her to stay. A mobile that hangs from the

ceiling stops and points, leading him to exclaim that the Witch of the Waste is trying to

find his castle. Sophie tells him about seeing her henchmen by the bay. Howl responds by

telling her that all he does “is hide,” and all of the magical apparatus in the room is to

“keep everybody away.” He also states that all of his aliases serve the same purpose.

Howl tells Sophie that the Witch of the Waste was once beautiful and that he had pursued

her, until he realized that she was not and “ran away.”

Howl also tells Sophie that he will have to come out of hiding and respond to the

summons, because he took a royal oath as a wizard. Sophie suggests that he should go,

for then he will be able to tell the King that he does not want to participate in the war.

She says that a king should want to hear from all of his subjects. Howl looks downcast,

but suddenly leaps up and exclaims that Sophie should go for him, that she can say that

she is his mother, and she can tell Madame Suliman that her son is too cowardly to go.

After getting past the crisis he had in the last scene, Howl still lies in bed com-

pletely overwhelmed by his predicament. As Edinger (1985) stated, ―the prospect of

solutio will generate great anxiety because the hard-won state of ego autonomy will be

threatened with dissolution‖ (p. 49). In other words, for an ego that has not gained

sufficient autonomy, facing the problem of the mother complex head-on will bring up an

overwhelming fear. In this scene, Howl relates this fear to both of his antagonists, the

Witch of the Waste and the King‘s sorceress Madame Suliman. This scene marks a
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turning point for Howl‘s relationship with Sophie, for he has dropped his persona of a

confident wizard and discussed his secret debilitating fear.

Although Howl states that all the items in the room are to protect him from the

Witch of the Waste, many are also decorative elements. There are flowers next to his bed,

and a floral design on his sheets. There are two stuffed cows on his bed, and the entire

room is a dazzling array of color. Along with similarly colorful clothes, jeweled earrings,

and a gold necklace, these items suggest that Howl already has an interest in, and an

acceptance of, a feminine side of his personality. While on the one hand he may have not

been able adequately to develop his ego autonomy to separate from his mother complex,

on the other he displays a remarkable development of his feminine side that is far beyond

that of any of the other men in the film, such as the mayor, the shopkeepers, and the

soldiers.

His apprenticeship to Madame Suliman came with the price tag of duty. Thus, just

as Sophie was duty-bound to father, Howl is similarly bound to ―mother.‖ In Jungian

psychology, he could be called a mother‘s son, which can come with the duty to be her

champion. In this case, the film has already shown us what she would like: she wants him

to fight in her war, which will turn him into a monster and result in his losing all of his

consciousness, for, as Howl told Calcifer, ―After the war [the monsters] will forget they

ever were human.‖ In other words, once he fulfils such a duty, he will lose all of his

consciousness and sink into the maternal unconscious.

To the extent that the characters represent Howl‘s psyche, Sophie provides Howl

with a new chance and means to relate to his true feminine. Yet rather than take her lead

directly, as he did when cooking breakfast earlier, this time Howl wants to use her by
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sending her to confront Madame Suliman herself, in order to broker his freedom for him.

Only with Sophie in such danger will he be able to muster the courage to face Madame

Suliman himself.

Figure 24: Sophie and the Witch of the Waste climb the stairs to the Royal Palace
(Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 22: To the Palace. Sophie angrily puts down her hat as she prepares to go

to the King‟s palace on Howl‟s behalf. Howl, wrapped in a blanket and slippers, follows

her to the door and puts a ring onto her finger that matches a ring on his own. He says,

“This charm will guarantee your safe return,” and tells her that he will also follow her in

disguise. Sophie leaves, muttering that she does not think his plan will work.

As she walks through the outer gates and then a crowded square, she sees a

small, old dog that starts to follow her. She asks if the dog is Howl, and he coughs. She

takes this cough to indicate that the dog is Howl, although he really is Madame
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Suliman‟s dog Heen. She notes her surprise that Howl took the form of an old dog, but

begins to talk to the dog as if it were Howl.

As they walk towards the palace, the Witch of the Waste comes up beside her in

her gondola. She asks why she is headed to the palace, and Sophie lies by saying that she

is job hunting. The Witch of the Waste tells Sophie that she, in contrast, has received a

royal invitation, and that “the idiot Suliman” has realized how much she needs the Witch

of the Waste‟s “powers.” Sophie asks the Witch of the Waste to break her spell, but she

responds that her skill is in casting spells, not “breaking them.”

The Witch of the Waste goes on ahead, but, when they get to the bottom of a

massive staircase going up to the palace, her henchmen disappear. The Witch of the

Waste must climb the stairs without their assistance. She has only made it up a few steps

when Sophie arrives. The dog is not able to climb the stairs, so Sophie carries it. As

Sophie passes the Witch of the Waste, she asks her for help. Sophie tells her she would

help if the Witch of the Waste would remember how to break her spell. As Sophie climbs

on, the Witch of the Waste wonderers where Sophie gets all her energy. Sophie pauses

halfway up the staircase, from where she sees the Witch of the Waste struggling below.

Sophie tells her to give up, that she will never make it, but the Witch of the Waste says

that she has been waiting for fifty years for a royal invitation ever since Madame Suliman

first banished her.

Even though Sophie is not pleased to be going to the palace in Howl‘s stead, she

goes anyway. As she stated in the last scene, she believes that the war is pointless and

that Howl should not be fighting in it. No matter how little she believes that this ploy will

work, she shows that she is motivated to try to help him regardless of the danger into
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which it might put her. Sophie also shows that she trusts Howl that he will follow her and

try to protect her. She mutters to herself that Howl is flamboyant, while at the same time

accepting the idea that he has taken the form of an old dog.

Sophie‘s gruff manner belies her recognition of something of value in Howl and

her intentions to support him in his predicament. While Howl may suffer from a debilita-

ting fear, her own anger could be called motivational. It does not blind her to what is

important, but empowers her to protect it. Even the Witch of the Waste is surprised at

how much energy Sophie has at her disposal. To the extent that Sophie could be called a

personification of Howl‘s feminine side, she shows that she is ready to stand up for her

feminine values. Howl lets her take this stand on his behalf, as indeed he needs her to do,

but he also shows in this scene that he is now planning to serve the ―higher feminine‖

value that Sophie could be said to represent.

This scene also shows that the Witch of the Waste has not always been relegated

to the wastes, but was once a member of the royal palace herself. Described psycho-

logically, this would suggest that she had formerly been in a central position of value and

control in the psyche. She also wants to come back into her old position badly enough

that she is willing to climb all those stairs and put her life at risk in the process. That she

blames Madame Suliman for her banishment indicates their opposition to one another.

Representing two very different aspects of the feminine, they are both consumed by an

interest in power. One is currently in power and is literally waging a war, while the other

wants to regain a former position.

That the Witch of the Waste‘s banishment has specifically been fifty years long

suggests that there may be need for a balancing of the scales. Psychologically, it may be
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symbolic of a first half of life that has come out of balance with the rest of the psyche. If

so, the fact that two women are climbing the stairs to the palace, one old and one young,

could suggest a psyche that has recognized the problem and constellated a solution. Seen

in this light, both the Witch of the Waste and Sophie could be considered as compensa-

tion to a feminine that has abandoned matriarchal values for patriarchal ones; thus they

could both be seen, apart from obvious differences, as something of natural allies.

Figure 25: The Witch of the Waste in Madame Suliman‘s trap (Suzuki & Miyazaki,
2004).

Scene 23: The Witch’s Trap. Sophie, the Witch of the Waste, and the dog Heen

walk into the palace. Sophie asks what has happened to the Witch of the Waste, noting

that she looks old. Indeed, the Witch of the Waste has changed from being tall and robust

to hunched and bedraggled. Sophie suggests that the Witch of the Waste pull herself

together, reminding her that she has made it inside the palace as she had desired. When
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Sophie is announced as Mrs. Pendragon, the Witch of the Waste recognizes the name, but

does not remember why that name is familiar even though it is Howl‟s last name. Sophie

lies, telling the Witch it was the name of her “hat shop.”

When they enter a large room, there is one chair in the middle of the floor. The

Witch of the Waste declares “It‟s mine!” and rushes to sit in it. Sophie goes off to look

for Heen, who has moved into a side room. As she walks onto a round, mandala-shaped

carpet, a secret door opens in the paneling and an adolescent boy in a uniform, one of

Madame Suliman‟s pages, appears behind it. Bowing and gesturing to the right with his

hand, he says, “This way, please, Ma‟am.”

After they leave, curtains roll up all around the Witch of the Waste, exposing

massive electric light bulbs. Someone throws a great switch and the lights come on

brightly, with a loud humming sound denoting high wattage. The Witch of the Waste

covers her eyes, beginning to cry and gasp in pain. The camera angle displays the Witch

of the Waste from above, showing her in the center of a giant, round carpet with a

dragon in the middle. As the lights get brighter, she hunches over, moaning in pain, while

a ring of shadowy scarecrows rises around her and begins to rotate.

Sophie noted that the Witch of the Waste was not only exhausted, but had also

seemed to age from her ordeal climbing up the grand staircase. A depleted condition

extended not only to the Witch of the Waste‘s appearance, but also to the state of her

mind, for when Sophie is introduced as Mrs. Pendragon, the Witch does not readily recall

why she recognizes the name. As before, Sophie lies to the Witch of the Waste to cover

up that she is going to the palace on Howl‘s behalf in order to protect Howl. In so doing,

instead of being honest, Sophie shows that, like Howl, she is also able to use deception to
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outwit the Witch of the Waste when necessary. Psychologically, Sophie could thus be

said to show that she is not constrained by any collective value such as honesty, but is

instead focused upon consciously protecting what is most important to her.

The Witch of the Waste shows her impulsiveness and greediness by running to

the only chair in the room, but in so doing she falls into Madame Suliman‘s trap. Sophie

unwittingly saves herself by trying to help Heen, who has run off, and who she believes

to be Howl. While it could be said that it is Heen who protects her by leading her out of

the room, Sophie acts to save herself through her relational attachment to another being.

Sophie‘s stepping onto the mandala-shaped carpet is also what leads to the door opening

in the paneling. The mandala is a sign of wholeness, especially so in the perfect geometri-

cal patterning of nested circles that the carpet exhibits. This example of abstract art may

be symbolically close to the archetypal reality it represents, even if it is also all the more

difficult to comprehend consciously. That this mandala may relate to Heen‘s and

Sophie‘s ability to open the secret door by stepping onto it may suggest that it is symbol-

ically synonymous to their own archetypal wholeness and trueness to their nature. In

other words, the door may open when they step on the carpet, because both Heen and

Sophie reflect something of what the mandala represents.

At the same time, it is not a stretch to say that the mandala carpet upon which the

Witch unfortunately alights represents the negative mother in the common symbolic form

of the dragon. While the dragon could be said to represent the Witch of the Waste herself,

it is more likely that it represents Madame Suliman, within whose palace the Witch of the

Waste now finds herself and into whose trap she has fallen. Madame Suliman is also

reflected symbolically in the wings of the dragon and the bird features on the sea and land
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creatures, which may represent the masculine power she wields and the patriarchal

system that supports her. Indeed, like old alchemical images of winged and wingless

dragons that are chained together and combating one another, Madame Suliman and the

Witch of the Waste may represent opposing aspects of the same motif that are

inextricably linked.46

The bright electric light, humming with wattage, is a human-made, rather than a

natural, light source, whose unnaturally bright light could be said to be a symbol of

masculine and patriarchal power. As like has been said to attract like, it could be

expected to constellate and draw a similar energy out of the Witch of the Waste, in this

case her unrelated, masculine energy. The shadow scarecrows that are constellated

around her, holding hands in their own mandala formation, could be said to be depictions

of this energy that are calling upon and withdrawing the same shadow energies that are

within her. These energies could be the same ones that she has been abusing through her

use of the archetypal blob men, as well as the ones she used as she searched for Howl and

placed a spell on Sophie. She has also used it, as will be more fully explained in the next

scene, to keep herself artificially young, which could be seen as a sin against her own

feminine nature.47

46
As one alchemical text interpreted by von Franz (1980) described this arcane image, ―the wingless bird
prevents the winged one from flying away, while the winged bird wants to raise the wingless bird, so they
remain attached, linked together in a kind of insoluble conflict‖ (p. 130).
47
As Woodman (2004) described this aspect of the feminine, ―the feminine is the value … that says ‗in my
gut this is who I am.‘‖ In other words, the feminine places no value on persona, but on inner truth.
 218

Figure 26: Sophie confronts Madame Suliman (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 24: Madame Suliman. Sophie is led by the page into a large glass

conservatory that is attached to the royal palace. It contains a forest of palm trees and

other tropical plants. Sound echoes within the glass enclosure, and the sounds of tropical

birds, water fountains, and their own footsteps are all amplified. Sophie waits while

Madame Suliman finishes some dealings with three well-dressed businessmen and signs a

document with a fountain pen.

Madame Suliman asks Sophie to take a seat across from her. She may be an old

woman, but she has a powerful character. She sits in a grand white wheelchair that looks

like a throne and holds a great staff next to her that towers above her. She is dressed in a

grand red robe with a necklace of large blue stones. Sophie notices the dog under the
 219

table, and Madame Suliman tells Sophie, to her surprise, that his name is Heen and that

she had him escort her.

She asks Sophie why Howl has not come himself. Sophie tells her that her “son”

is lazy, and the King would find him useless. Suliman tells her that Howl was the most

talented student she ever had, and she had hoped that he would replace her. But she says

that after his heart was stolen by a demon he never returned, and then he became selfish.

She leans forward, declares that Howl is “extremely dangerous; his powers are far too

great for someone without a heart,” and warns that if he stays selfish he will end up like

the Witch of the Waste. A page wheels in the Witch of the Waste, who looks very old.

Sophie asks what happened to her, and Suliman says that she stripped the Witch of all of

her powers.

Sophie stands up and exclaims, “That‟s enough!” She tells Madame Suliman that

she has figured out that Suliman uses a royal invitation to trick people into coming to the

palace only to “strip them of all their powers.” Sophie says that, while Howl may be

selfish and even cowardly, “his intentions are good; he just wants to be free.” She gets

more incensed and passionate as she speaks, even while she changes back into a young

woman. Madame Suliman waits until she is finished and says, “Now I understand: you‟re

in love with Howl,” whereupon Sophie immediately reverts to an old woman.

The Witch of the Waste perks up when she hears Suliman mention Howl‟s name,

saying that she wants his heart and starting to sob. In an attempt to comfort the Witch of

the Waste, Sophie tells her that Howl is not coming. Madame Suliman says that she

believes that Howl will come, for she now “knows his secret.”
 220

This scene shows that Madame Suliman is more than just a sorceress, for she also

conducts the King‘s business. That she is in a position of great power could not be more

clear, as her great staff is a phallic masculine symbol of power. Her throne-like

wheelchair, the blue stones she wears (which can be considered a masculine color), and

her cold tone of voice give the impression that she is oriented towards, and empowered

by, Logos as opposed to Eros. Suliman even controls the environment that she is in; the

conservatory where they meet is an artificial, climate-controlled environment separate

from the kingdom she rules, with regard both to its subjects and to the natural world. At

the turn of the twentieth century, such grand conservatories, such the Crystal Palace in

London, were symbols of national wealth and power.

That Madame Suliman does not want anyone else to have any individual power is

also clear. She states that she wanted Howl to take over her position—in other words, to

be an extension of herself. His refusal to serve her, and his choice to live his own life, she

calls selfish. By reducing the Witch of the Waste to a state of powerlessness, she shows

that she is the real threat to Howl. In her core, she could be said to be interested only in

power and conquest, for as Jung (1967a) stated well, ―Where love reigns, there is no will

to power; and where the will to power is paramount, love is lacking‖ (p. 53).

Described psychologically, Madame Suliman could be said to be an image of

Howl‘s mother complex. She wants Howl to be dutiful and to be her champion, but she

will not allow him to have any life of his own. Nor does she want him to have any feel-

ings of his own, for those would be feelings that she could not control. She is incensed,

not because he does not have a heart, but because she wanted to own it herself. It is only

because she does not have complete control over him that she calls him selfish.
 221

Madame Suliman is not, of course, his real mother, but he could be considered a

kind of surrogate son in that he took on the role of her apprentice and protégé. Yet

Suliman showed no interest in his own personal development, for that would take him

away from her. Instead, she wanted him to remain tied to her through duty, by which she

would be able to live forever through him.

This scene also shows that the Witch of the Waste, at her true age, is likely far

older than Madame Suliman. In a prior scene, the Witch of the Waste stated that she lived

in the royal palace before Madame Suliman; if we consider this statement develop-

mentally, as if each of these figures were an embodiment of an aspect of Howl‘s psyche,

the Witch of the Waste could be said to represent the great mother herself who was then

displaced by the mother. In Jungian developmental theory, one is first born into a

participation mystique with one‘s surroundings, i.e., the great mother, before the role of

the archetypal feminine, or anima, is projected upon one‘s actual mother. In this initial

state, the Witch of the Waste, as great mother, would indeed have had full access to

Howl‘s heart, or, put another way, it could be said that Howl had no psychic separation

from the Eros, or feminine instinctual nature, that she represented. Thus the Witch of the

Waste would have had no reason to seek to own his heart until after she was banished to

the wastes, i.e., driven from the ruling position and cast into the unconscious. This act by

Madame Suliman could be said to be what drove the Witch of the Waste into her own

power complex, in direct compensatory reaction to Madame Suliman‘s striving for power

and control.

When Madame Suliman describes Howl as ―too powerful to not have a heart,‖

and ―selfish‖ because she can see Howl as only an extension of herself, she is really
 222

describing her own condition. Similarly, because she does not recognize her own shadow

in the Witch of the Waste, when she describes the Witch as ―greedy,‖ she is herself the

one who is primarily motivated by greed and lack of proper feeling. What she calls

Howl‘s ―selfishness‖ comes from the fact that he wants to separate from her and live his

own life. While Madame Suliman may be correct that he does not literally have his heart

—at least, as we will discover, not in its proper physical position and in relationship to

his ego—it is mostly because he needs to protect it, and mostly from her.

Similarly, the Witch of the Waste‘s ―greed‖ is probably only a response to being

banished by Madame Suliman, i.e., driven to the unconscious; it could be better described

as a caged desire that has grown monstrous due to its being denied. Underneath the Witch

of the Waste‘s greed, it could be said that she has a feminine, instinctual feeling, some-

thing of which Madame Suliman, under her own drive for power, has none. While the

Witch of the Waste, with her Eros or matriarchal nature, could be said to desire Howl,

Madame Suliman, with her Logos or patriarchal nature, believes she is Howl. So when

Madame Suliman learns that Howl is something more that her own proxy, as she does

when she realizes that he and Sophie are in love, she wants only to smite him, as she

shows in the next scene when she hurls her staff at him like a spear.

This scene also indicates the solution to the spell that Sophie is under. It shows

that, when Sophie‘s emotions are sufficiently aroused that she forgets her identification

with her negative self-image, and instead fully inhabits her own heart and her feminine

Eros, the spell is broken. It is only when Suliman reflects something of Sophie‘s own

truth back to her, specifically that she is in love with Howl, that Sophie recoils and

reverts to being an old woman. Psychologically, one could say that Sophie still identifies
 223

with the nature of her problem, specifically that her own negative self-image is something

of a defense mechanism to which she clings rather than live the truth of her own femi-

nine, relational nature. Put another way, it could be said that the only spell that Sophie is

under is one that matches her outer appearance to her own inner self-image; this scene

showed that all that is required to break this spell is for her fully and consciously to

accept her own feeling nature.

That Sophie‘s healing requires her to become so conscious was reflected at the

end of her outburst to Madame Suliman. She said that she believed in Howl‘s capacity to

heal himself, adding that she was ―certain of it.‖ By this statement, she showed her

conviction in her own feeling and intuition about him, i.e., in the subjective facts she

knew only because of her feminine capacity for relatedness.

Madame Suliman‘s wheelchair, and the artificially heated chamber in which she

resides, also suggest a physical infirmity. Also, the fact that she called Howl ―the last

apprentice I ever took on‖ suggests that her powers are waning. For all of the power she

still wields, her time is running out. Her suggestion that she wanted to find a successor in

Howl also suggests the end of an old reign, and, described psychologically, heralds a shift

in the psyche‘s power structure that is already underway.

 224

Figure 27: Howl saves Sophie and the Witch of the Waste from Madame Suliman‘s trap
(Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 25: Confrontation. Howl walks in disguised as the King. He first asks

Madame Suliman how she is feeling. Then he says he would rather be in her company

than in a boring war meeting. Turning around, he inquires about her guests. When he is

introduced to Mrs. Pendragon, he thanks her for coming, but says he does not want to

use magic to win the war. When they used it to shield the palace, he reminds her, the

“bombs fell on civilian homes instead.” Madame Suliman notes that he is being very

eloquent.

The real King walks in, announcing himself by loudly calling out her name in

syllables: “Sul-i-man!” He then brags that he has a new battle plan and will “beat them

to a pulp.” When the King notices Howl, he loudly guffaws, commending Madame

Suliman for making such a good double for him.

After the King leaves, Suliman tells Howl that his disguise is terrible. Howl says

he was not trying to fool her, but only to report for duty as summoned. But when Howl
 225

says that they will now leave, Madame Suliman will not let them. She raises her staff and

thumps it against the floor. Immediately, a small circle appears below through which one

can see the night sky; then this disappears and is followed by a great deluge of water.

Soon Howl, Sophie, and the Witch of the Waste are under water. The visual scene

changes, and they are shown high in the sky. Howl tells Sophie not to look down. The

Witch starts falling, but clings to Sophie‟s dress.

Madame Suliman says that it is time for Howl to show his “mother,” i.e., Sophie,

who he truly is. As they hover high over what appears to be a primeval rainforest, stars

begin to fall and smash like glass around them. These turn into star children who have

stars for heads and transparent bodies. After forming themselves into a ring around

Howl, Sophie, and the Witch of the Waste, they then begin rotating and chanting. As they

do so, Howl begins to groan and then turns into a bird monster. Madame Suliman

appears in the sky before them, holding her staff like a spear, while Sophie cries, “It‟s a

trap!,” covering Howl‟s eyes with her hands. Peeking through her fingers, Howl sees

Suliman and launches them high into the air, until they smash through the top of the glass

roof of the conservatory.

Howl had a duty to report when summoned, but this scene shows that that is as far

as his duty extends. Considered psychologically, this would suggest that a direct response

was somehow necessary. Yet it also shows that answering the call can be a conscious

encounter in which one has a choice, not just unconscious servitude like the blob men.

Indeed, as soon as he reported, Howl showed that he also had the right to fight or to flee

the threat that she posed. Like many of the old rulers in mythology when confronted with

a potentially new threat, the old tries to kill the new, as Saturn devoured his children.
 226

Similarly, Madame Suliman thrust her staff at Howl, attempting to kill him. In fleeing

this threat, Howl can be said to have chosen to protect his new feminine, in the form of

Sophie.

This encounter with Madame Suliman in order to gain autonomy implies that the

complexes that unconsciously rule the psyche must first be faced, i.e., must somehow be

made conscious by the ego. In all initiation ceremonies, young men must confront some

kind of symbolic form of the mother in order to move from a dependent state into an

adult state, yet, because she who gave life can also bring death, the ego must have the

capacity to face this risk or face ―death.‖ In Jungian psychology, this is known, as

mentioned above, as the threat of possession, through which one can be drawn into, and

remain stuck within, the unconscious.48 Psychologically, the resulting state would be

described as a mental illness, or, in Jungian psychology, a neurosis brought about by the

possession by a complex.

Yet Howl went beyond merely reporting to Madame Suliman. In his disguise as

the King, he told Suliman what he thought of her war and communicated something of

how he would rule the psyche after the old king was deposed. In contrast to Madame

Suliman‘s description of his condition as heartless, Howl showed that he cared about the

welfare of all the subjects of the kingdom, i.e., the other parts of the psyche, as well as an

awareness of the dangers that the use of magic could hold, as in the canalization of the

libido into new ventures. Because this film is considered to be about individuation, this

could be said to be a foreshadowing of the potential outcome, i.e., a preview of Howl‘s

fully individuated state.

48
In what Jung (1967b), following Goethe, called the ―realm of the mothers‖ (p. 125).
 227

Howl‘s portrayal of how a king should act, by showing what he would do as king,

was followed by the contrasting example of the real King, who not only showed himself

as unsympathetic to the plight of his subjects and neighbors, but also indicated his lack of

ability to wage such a war on his own. Where Suliman showed a savvy intelligence, the

King displayed no such thing. He thereby hinted at not only why the old patriarchal re-

gime was in need of renewal, but also how the old masculine could not be looked towards

for any useful instructions to help this renewal take place. If Howl was to rise to the chal-

lenge, to establish a new masculine principle capable of standing up to Madame Suliman,

he would have to discover how in some other way.

In this scene, Madame Suliman also attempted to turn Sophie against Howl by

showing her Howl‘s inner nature, the fact that he is also a monster. But this plan

backfired, for it was Sophie who warned Howl that it was a trap. Sophie also put her

hands over Howl‘s eyes, as if she knew that Madame Suliman‘s power was only in her

eyes; thus, if he only stopped looking, he would be able to free himself. Covering one‘s

eyes could be deemed a way to separate from one‘s masculine consciousness of

discernment, instead inviting in a consciousness more centered in the rest of the body.49

With his eyes covered, it could be said that Howl was more connected to instinct,

including his natural fight or flight response.

By covering Howl‘s eyes, Sophie showed that she could keep her wits and see

through Suliman‘s trap, even though she did not have to close her own eyes. This could

be because, unlike Howl, who represents a masculine consciousness, Sophie represents a

feminine consciousness, which has given her the insight that Howl could have his own

feminine reaction, in the form of a protective instinct, that would allow him to save them
49
See footnote 46 above.
 228

if only he would close his eyes. Thus this scene could be said to have shown something

of the wisdom of relatedness that a feminine consciousness can hold.

Through escaping from Madame Suliman, who suggests the terrible, devouring

mother, Howl not only got away with his own life but also with those of Sophie and the

Witch of the Waste. In so doing, he consciously aligned himself with the protection and

care of one form of the feminine in Sophie, and also unconsciously with another form in

the Witch of the Waste, who was clinging to Sophie‘s dress. Howl‘s means of escape,

now used for the third time, was to fly high up into the air, a leap to blue sky and mascu-

line spirit, where he could not be followed by Madame Suliman‘s powers. The woman‘s

inability to pursue him could be said to be captured metaphorically in her physically

limited state, in which her full powers are restricted to the controlled environment in

which she lives.

Yet once they are outside the glass, while Howl and the others are free from

Suliman herself, they are under threat from the King‘s army, which is controlled by

Madame Suliman. Outside of her sanctuary, it could be said that Madame Suliman has

the ability to rule through the masculine forces under her control, i.e., through the King

and the King‘s men, as well as the wizards who had already pledged their allegiance to

her. Yet Madame Suliman is fighting a losing battle. As we learned in this and previous

scenes, the ships sent out were destroyed, villages are burning across the land, and the

territorial integrity of the kingdom has also been breached.

 229

Figure 28: Sophie‘s ring leading her to Calcifer (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 26: Return to the Castle. Howl lands with Sophie and the Witch of the

Waste on one of the King‟s army‟s flying machines. As they are taking off, Heen jumps on

and lands in the Witch of the Waste‟s lap. She says, “Good doggie.” When Howl tells

Sophie that she did not need to bring them along, Sophie comments that she is angry with

Heen. Howl tells Sophie that she really helped him, and that Madame Suliman “terrifies”

him.

Armed soldiers on similar flying machines are in close pursuit. After Howl tells

Sophie to steer, she careens through a belfry, almost crashing the plane, and Howl

comments how good a pilot she is. Sophie denies this, but, due to her route through the

belfry, the planes following them are now farther behind.

Meanwhile, Madame Suliman is shown being served by four pages, who look

identical, right down to their uniforms and haircuts. Holding Sophie‟s hat, Madame

Suliman says that maybe Sophie can help Madame Suliman find Howl. The doors of
 230

Howl‟s portals at Kingsbury and Porthaven are all stormed by the King‟s troops, but the

buildings are found to be empty.

Howl tells Sophie that the ring he gave her can guide her to Calcifer, if she

“summons Calcifer with her heart.” She does so, and the ring points ahead with a red

glow. Howl uses his magic to make their flying machine invisible, attempting to lure the

other planes away with a decoy.

Night falls. It is raining by the time Sophie and the others finally come to Howl‟s

castle up on the waste. Howl‟s castle, which has also come to meet them, lets out bursts

of steam in welcome. Sophie does not know how to land the plane, but the castle opens its

mouth and gulps the plane inside. It crash lands in the kitchen area amid a great deal of

rubble, but none of them are harmed.

Once outside the palace, they are pursued by the King‘s air force. The army and

navy also storm Howl‘s portals in Kingsbury and Porthaven, respectively. That they all

come after Howl so quickly shows not only that they are all under Madame Suliman‘s

control, but that she considers Howl to be a greater threat than a neighboring kingdom

that currently appears to be winning the war.

Howl thanks Sophie for helping him, acknowledging what ―big trouble‖ he is in.

In doing so, Howl shows that his relationship with Sophie, while based on supporting and

serving the feminine, as traditional masculine roles are often described, is also one of

being conscious of her ability to help fill his own need. Psychologically, this could be

said to show the ego‘s recognition of the part that the feminine consciousness plays in

psychic balance and healing. That he is able to admit his fear and weakness to Sophie,
 231

both in the scene in his bedroom and in this scene, thereby dropping his persona as a

powerful wizard, has probably contributed to his ability fully to accept her wise guidance.

In following Sophie, Howl also takes, as Sophie did earlier, a leap of faith in order

to escape, but it shows his faith in Sophie, as he heeds her warning that he is being

exposed to a trap. While he may once have held an allegiance to Madame Suliman, in this

scene he shows that he has now granted it instead to Sophie. Psychologically, as noted

above, this could be said to show the development of Howl‘s contrasexual other, or

anima, from an omnipotent-seeming and fear-inducing mother to a feminine figure to

whom he can relate on a more equal basis. Because the contrasexual other is considered

to be a bridge to the Self, this also brings him an opportunity to align himself, through

her, to the Self via what has been called the ego-Self axis, as described above.

This scene also provides a brief image of the fate that Howl escaped prior to

Sophie‘s arrival. The identical young pages who assist Madame Suliman look like clones

of one another; existing only to serve her, they have no individuality of their own. That

Howl‘s hair color was similarly dyed blond shows that, before meeting Sophie, he was

continuing to identify with the outer appearance that he had as Suliman‘s apprentice and

had not yet accepted his own true image and value.

This scene also shows the capabilities of the ring that Howl gave Sophie. It allows

Sophie to find her way to Calcifer, and, within him, to Howl‘s heart. That Calcifer also

brings the castle to meet her implies that the ring somehow communicated her position to

Calcifer. The indication that Howl‘s and Sophie‘s hearts can communicate and know

something of each other further suggests their love, at which Suliman has already hinted.
 232

It is also likely that it is through the matching ring on Howl‘s finger that he can remain in

connection and communication with his own heart.

The difficulty of Sophie‘s flight from Suliman back to Calcifer is symbolically

depicted in the darkening sky and the rain streaking into Sophie‘s eyes. While the Witch

of the Waste and Heen hide under the Witch‘s fur cloak, Sophie again shows what is of

value to her, as she withstands the weather and guides them home. After Suliman‘s troops

have burst through the other portals into Howl‘s Castle, the only remaining portal is in

the actual castle itself up on the waste. Sophie‘s journey through a storm and darkness is

clearly not as straightforward as her initial intuitive discovery of the castle. The return

becomes something of an ordeal, much like Parsifal finding the Grail castle for the

second time.

That Howl‘s castle comes to meet Sophie and even helps her land by swallowing

her along with her flying machine, despite the risk of damage to itself, shows, psycho-

logically, the value placed on Sophie by the ego. This is also suggested by Markle‘s

running to see if she is hurt and telling her that he missed her.

Markle grimaces when he sees the Witch of the Waste appear out of the rubble.

She is still holding Heen, and, smiling, again says, ―Good doggie,‖ thereby showing that,

unlike her previous greedy nature, she now is capable of warmth and compassion. That

Heen stays with her, and even sleeps on her bed afterwards, shows that Heen sees her as

genuine and thoroughly changed. It seems that, while Madame Suliman may have only

meant to take the Witch of the Waste‘s power away, she also, to use the language of

myths and fairy tales, somehow redeemed her in the process.

 233

Figure 29: Sophie enters Howl‘s cave (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 27: Sophie’s Dream of the Monster. Sophie, the Witch of the Waste, and

Heen are sleeping in the wreckage around the hearth, when Howl returns to the castle. At

first, he is invisible, but as he walks past them he becomes translucent, like a shadow.

Calcifer says that this time he “has gone too far.” Sophie is sleeping as he walks past,

and she appears not as an old woman but as her younger self. After Howl goes up the

stairs to his room and closes the door, Sophie awakens with a start. As she picks up one

of the feathers he dropped, it disintegrates in her hand.

Sophie lights a candle and follows his bird-like footprints. When she enters his

bedroom, it has turned into a cavern that stretches into the darkness. The walls of the

cave are embedded with objects, some of which were from his room, but most of them

look as if they are the toys of a child. As the cavern splits, Sophie proceeds through the
 234

passage that goes to the left. After a bit the toys stop, and she sees a great wall of black

feathers. Howl, as a bird monster, is curled up, blocking the whole passageway. His

raspy breathing fills the corridor.

When Sophie tries to talk to Howl, he orders her to go away. As she tries to tell

him that she is going to help him break the spell he is under, he responds that she cannot

even help herself. She tells him that she loves him, but he cries that it is too late and flies

away. As he leaves, Sophie immediately turns back into an old woman and then awakens

with a start back in her own bed.

This dream sequence is not very altered from the way that Howl is represented in

the rest of the film, yet he is shown in ways that Sophie herself has not previously

witnessed. For example, when he walks in, he appears invisible at first and then slowly

translucent, as in the previous scene where he came in from the black portal and spoke to

Calcifer. She also appears as a young woman when she is sleeping, which has already

been shown to be true but something she herself has not yet consciously witnessed.

Because this is Sophie‘s dream, it could be said to reflect her unconscious intuitions

about her conscious problems, i.e., something of the compensatory and self-regulating

nature of the psyche; because these examples portray factors that have already been

shown in prior scenes, the viewer can see that her intuitions are correct. There are also

intuitions that have not been shown in previous scenes, including the cave that Howl‘s

room has become, one that contains more toys than magical devices. Yet another is that it

is only when Howl flies away from her that she turns back into a crone.

Until the very end of this dream sequence, Sophie appears as a young woman. In

other words, while she is asleep and dreaming, Sophie is not necessarily affected by her
 235

―curse‖; instead, this problem seems to be somehow involved with her conscious identity

or persona. Yet the fact that she becomes old again when Howl rejects her help shows

that the spell she is under (her age problem) is triggered by this rejection, perhaps

showing her unconscious fear of abandonment by the man she loves. Indeed, she may

harbor such fears based on having a stepmother who was emotionally unavailable and a

father who died. The trauma of the latter may have even have been instrumental in

producing her father complex, specifically in the form of her self-negating judgment of

herself as unattractive and unwanted.

The cave could be said to relate to Howl‘s mother complex, as it is symbolic of

the feminine and the toys of youth; thus his retreat into the cave can be seen as a deep

regression into the mother. Howl‘s rejection of Sophie could be seen as a rejection of

life,50 for to regress into the mother is to accept defeat and death. As the mother gives life

and the potential for suffering, she can also be a symbol of death and a release from the

pain of one‘s existence. At the same time, his choice to regress and thereby abandon her

could be considered a fear of Sophie‘s based on her unresolved father complex. That she

becomes old in the face of this fear could be seen as a defense mechanism, for, as she

stated in a previous scene, ―The good thing about being old is that nothing frightens you.‖

Even so, Howl‘s potential for regression and abandoning the goal of individuation

can be considered an example of the real danger he is in. This scene may provide a

specific image that describes this danger in the form of Howl becoming stuck in his bird

monster form, which, in despair, has withdrawn into the maternal cave. In a past scene

we have already heard from Howl that other wizards will forget they are human if they

remain in their monster form serving the symbolic mother, and we see that Howl carries
50
Jung (1969b) called the anima the ―archetype of life itself‖ (p. 32).
 236

something of this too in his own potential for regression. In other words, this scene could

be said to show that Howl really has become something of a monster in withdrawing

from what it means to be human, separating from his feelings that draw him to life and

relate him to Sophie.

Like Sophie, who somehow identifies with her appearance as an old woman, in

this scene Howl shows that he has the potential to fall into an identification with his

monster side. While both roles are empowering in some ways, they are also both

problems that have to be solved in order for life to continue and growth to occur.

Figure 30: Sophie surveys the clouds below (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 28: Cleaning Up. Sophie awakens, noticing that the Witch of the Waste

and Heen are sleeping together nearby. Calcifer warns her that she is running out of time

to break the curse that he and Howl are under. Sophie asks if that means Howl will
 237

become a monster, and Calcifer responds that he cannot talk about the curse. Sophie asks

Calcifer if he knows what Madame Suliman meant when she said that a fire demon stole

Howl‟s heart and threatens him with a bucket of water. Calcifer tells her that if anything

happens to him, “Howl will die too.”

Sophie exits the castle onto the heath. It is still early dawn, as she walks onto a

rocky promontory overlooking the other peaks and clouds below. Turnip Head joins her.

She realizes what she needs to do, saying, as she looks back at the castle, “This is not

going to be easy.” Sophie ties a rope to the flying machine that is still stuck in the castle,

and tells Calcifer to open his mouth wide, as Turnip Head, Markle, and Heen pull on the

rope from outside. Howl‟s castle also leans back against their pulling, increasing the

tension, as Sophie pushes the machine from behind. When nothing happens, she gets

angry and shouts, “I said „Leave!‟” She gives it a kick, and suddenly its engine starts

sputtering and it shakes itself free of the castle. As it lands, it breaks into pieces, and

Turnip Head, Markle, and Heen laugh. Sophie wonders aloud if she can cover up the

hole in the wall to hide it from Howl.

In this scene Sophie shows that she is beginning to put together the information

she has learned about Howl‘s and Calcifer‘s problem. She then stands outside looking out

over a promontory that is reminiscent of Caspar David Friedrich‘s (1818) famous

romantic painting, Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. The Romantics believed that one

must have solitude in order to explore one‘s emotional life, and Friedrich‘s own view was

that ―the very idea of ‗self-expression‘ had to be associated with physical and spiritual

isolation‖ (―Caspar David Friedrich‘s Wanderer,‖ 2015). This same statement could be

said to describe the position in which Howl finds himself, for in order to be able to
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express his own true nature he has first to separate and isolate himself from Madame

Suliman.

Yet the person shown in this scene consciously experiencing this isolation and

inspiration is not Howl but Sophie. Thus this image could be said to highlight the fact

that it is specifically a feminine consciousness that is needed in order to solve Howl‘s

problem; it could, therefore, be said not only to reference but significantly to revise

Friedrich‘s expression by showing the wanderer as a woman. Backing up this interpre-

tation that Sophie gains inspiration from nature is that she turns around and immediately

announces what needs to be done, namely, the extraction of the flying machine from

Howl‘s castle. The image of a rope pulling the machine out of the castle‘s ―mouth‖ is an

obvious analogy to the historical method of pulling a bad tooth by tying a string around

it. This analogy implies that no object that is not a part of the castle, or Howl‘s ego,

should be allowed to remain, as it could somehow fester and poison it. Described psycho-

logically, for the ego to be able to develop it must lose all remnants of old complexes that

weaken its integrity.

The flying machine does not budge until Sophie gets determined and angry. Her

anger again empowers her, once more highlighting the fact that it is not only Sophie‘s

consciousness that is necessary, but also her decision to throw herself completely behind

the effort. While she may have been a withdrawn and withheld young woman, as an old

one she does not hold to any convention that women should not have outbursts. Instead, it

is as if she has learned to use her outbursts for the necessary energy they contain to solve

her present problems.

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Assisting the effort was the kick that she gave it that could have been said to ―kick

start‖ its engine. Even while working together, they all did not have sufficient energy to

dislodge it, but its own engine helped to shake itself loose. Removing the plane, like

doing the laundry before, gave all of them a chance to working together again. Along

with the image of them playing and laughing together afterwards, the results provided an

image of a new community coming together.

Figure 31: Howl and Calcifer transform the castle (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 29: Expansion and Reorientation. Sophie is feeding the Witch of the

Waste at the breakfast table. The Witch is staring at Calcifer, who ducks down between

the logs and tells Sophie not to feed her. Sophie says, “She‟s all right.” Markle and Heen

also eat breakfast at the table. The Witch of the Waste observes, “What a pretty fire!”
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Howl comes running downstairs and cheerfully says “Good morning” to

everyone. His hair is its natural black color. Even though he still wears earrings and a

gold chain, he does not wear his wizard coat; instead, he wears only a simple white shirt

and black pants. Markle asks Howl if he can keep Heen. Howl turns to Calcifer and asks

what possessed him to let the Witch of the Waste and Madame Suliman‟s dog in, and

Calcifer blames it on Sophie. Howl laughs, then walks over to the large hole in the wall

and greets Turnip Head, who is outside. Howl notes that Turnip Head has a “nasty

spell” on himself also, saying, “It seems like everybody in this family has problems.” The

Witch of the Waste says, “What a handsome man!”

Howl tells everyone that they are moving on in order to stay ahead of Madame

Suliman, apologizing to Turnip Head that he will not be able to come along due to the

powerful spell on him. Howl goes outside, where he draws a circle on the ground with

chalk and has Calcifer move onto it. He then goes inside and draws another circle onto

the floor of the kitchen area. He places Calcifer on a shovel and steps into the circle.

Calcifer‟s fire becomes larger and brighter, and the kitchen then extends, new rooms are

added onto it, and new furniture appears. Afterwards, the castle is much larger and

better appointed than it was previously, the only carryovers from the way it used to be

being the portal, the kitchen table, and Calcifer‟s hearth.

When Sophie runs to the window to look outside, she sees the same view she used

to see from the back of her father‟s hat shop. Howl says he added a bathroom, because

their “family is growing,” and then shows Sophie a room that is identical to the room

that used to be hers in the hat shop, right down to the view out the window that was

shown at the beginning of the film. As Sophie looks around, her features, except for the
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color of her hair, turn back into those of a young woman. She asks Howl why he did this,

and he says, “So we have a room that suits you.” When he asks if she likes it, she reverts

to an old woman and says that “It‟s perfect for a cleaning lady.”

Howl seems much more relieved and relaxed than he was before facing Madame

Suliman. He retains his natural hair color and has forgone his fancy wizard‘s jacket and

old persona. He is also quick to greeting everyone in a friendly way, even though two of

them used to be his enemies. He also uses the word ―family‖ when he talks about them,

as if he has already accepted them all as part of a new, related community. This new

family could also be said to be symbolically depicted in their sharing of a meal.

Even though Howl has been quick to adapt to these additions and changes, as has

Sophie, Calcifer is not so sure. For example, Sophie changed her opinion of the Witch of

the Waste quickly, noting that ―She‘s all right.‖ From the previous scene, it is clear that

Howl is taking his lead from Sophie on the makeup of their new community within the

castle, and that Sophie is following her own instincts. Sophie thereby shows that she is

able to drop her old opinions and adapt to new relationships very quickly. In other words,

she shows that she has learned to follow her feminine consciousness, and, in so doing, to

separate her immediate relationships from the judgmental spirit of both the collective

patriarchal culture and her father complex.

The Witch of the Waste, with her kind, unambiguous smile, and her simple,

appreciative comments, shows that she has changed as well. While the Witch also seems

to have lost something of her critical capacity when she lost her powers, this suggests that

she had a good, kind-hearted nature underneath her drive for power. Heen also seems to

have changed his allegiance from Madame Suliman, for he has quickly become attached
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to the Witch of the Waste, which also helps verify the depth of the Witch‘s change; he

also quickly made friends with Markle.

Mandalas, as noted above, are symbols of wholeness, as well as symbols of

psychological transformation. As Jung (1969b) stated, ―mandalas are birth-places, vessels

of birth in the most literal sense, lotus-flowers in which a Buddha comes to life‖ (p. 130).

Howl having the castle stand on one mandala, and himself and Calcifer on the other,

shows that both the changes to the castle itself and its orientation to the external world are

somehow aligned and in balance with one another. Holding Calcifer, the representative of

psychic energy, in his right hand, and directing the energy with his left could be said to

be representing the masculine and feminine sides of his body. In medieval Christianity,

the left side of the body was considered symbolically feminine (Chevelier & Gheerbrant,

1994), and it is also the side of the body containing one‘s heart.

As a gift to Sophie, Howl has returned her to her father‘s hat shop in her old

hometown, and to her old room within it, in what was likely an effort to make her feel

more at home. Its immediate effect is almost to break the spell she is under, as it

temporarily transforms her into her younger self again. Yet it quickly backfires, when she

states that her room ―suits a cleaning lady,‖ perhaps because it reminds her of her

depressed life and unconscious enslavement to her father complex, prior to meeting

Howl. In other words, while she is surprised at Howl‘s changes, she shows that she does

not associate her old room in the hat shop with her true nature, but with the old nature

that remained in service to her father‘s wishes rather than to her own.
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Figure 32: Howl‘s private study (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 30: Howl’s Secret Garden. Howl opens the door, telling Sophie that there

are a new courtyard and a new shop also, which look just like the courtyard of the hat

shop. Markle and Heen burst out and run around in the courtyard, as Howl and the

Witch of the Waste look on. Even so, Sophie, who is still surprised at the changes she has

already seen, is still inside the kitchen when he closes the door to show her a new color,

pink, on the portal dial. He switches the portal to pink and then opens the door upon a

beautiful alpine meadow in full bloom. When Sophie looks surprised, Howl tells her that

it is a present for her. He gives her his arm, announcing that it is his “secret garden” and

asking if she likes it. Sophie runs to the lake and then turns around; she has become a

young woman again, apart from her gray hair. She excitedly tells him how “gorgeous” it
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is, and that it is “like a dream.” She notes that it all seems familiar, even though she has

never been there before.

She takes Howl‟s proffered hand. Leading her over a ridge, he points out a small

cottage with a waterwheel. He tells her that his uncle, a wizard, gave him the cottage as

“his private study.” Sophie realizes that he was left alone when he was young. He tells

her that she can now come there whenever she wants. She understands that he is setting

her up so that he can leave her. As she asks him to stay and to let her help him, she falls

into self-criticism for not being pretty, and for being good only at cleaning. As she says

this, she again turns back into an old woman.

Howl spots a “battleship” flying overhead. When Sophie asks him which side it

belongs to, he says, “Who cares?” After Howl notes that it is carrying a large number of

bombs, he waves his left hand and projects an aspect of himself onto the battleship,

where he pulls some electrical plugs out of its engines. As he does so, his arm sprouts

feathers and claws that, as Sophie notices, remain afterwards. The battleship produces

an alarm sound like that of a naval ship in distress, as it slowly begins to descend. Then a

number of monsters that look like flying tadpoles with teeth come out of it. Turning partly

into a bird, Howl swiftly carries Sophie back to the portal and literally drops her into it.

Howl brought Sophie into his ―secret garden,‖ a name that suggests an inner,

psychic sanctum, a nurturing place within in which one can be, and indeed already is,

one‘s whole and natural self. Howl‘s garden is an untrammeled place of natural beauty, a

flowering meadow between the mountain peaks. It is set among the clouds at a high

altitude, the pond at its center reflecting the sky. Symbolically, it could be described as a

place where the feminine elements of earth and water meet the masculine elements of sky
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and spirit. That Howl suggests that this setting reflects something of his own nature, i.e.,

by calling it his own secret garden, suggests a psyche that has developed something of

both.

The cottage, which is built of natural materials, is powered by a waterwheel.

Unlike the machines that emit black, polluting smoke in the cities and towns below, this

cottage runs on a renewable resource and is built in harmony with the environment. In

this scene, we also learn that Howl spent his childhood alone, much of it in this place. In

other words, Howl could be called an orphan, and it could be said that this harmonious

natural world—the Great Mother, if you will—to some extent would have filled the

archetypal role of ―mother.‖ To Madame Suliman‘s negative image of ―mother,‖ this

natural home may have provided him with the experience of a positive, nurturing mother.

Even so, because it modeled a feminine that was remote and elevated away from the rest

of humanity, one that existed far closer to the archetypal masculine in the form of sky and

spirit, this inner image, or imago, would have separated him from the collective. With it

Howl would be more identified with ―gods‖ than with mortals like himself, and such an

identification would create an impediment to any initiation into the first half of life

collective roles.

In the previous scene, Howl could have been said to have used his masculine

consciousness, or Logos, to provide Sophie with a comfortable home based on informa-

tion he knew about her past. Yet that may have backfired, for it reminded her of the

negative self-judgment under which she lived due to her father complex. At the same

time, in this scene, by allowing himself to be vulnerable, he invited her into his own inner

world, inspiring her to become her young self again. For her part, Sophie showed again
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that she becomes young when she is passionately engaged in a direct relationship, and

thus not under the unconscious control of a complex. But as in the dream sequence when

Howl left her, when she discovers that he is planning to leave her again, she resumes the

persona of an old woman. As she does so, she reaffirms that ―The nice thing about getting

old is you‘ve got nothing much to lose,‖ suggesting that her identification with being old

is a defense mechanism to protect her against disappointment and abandonment, although

one that comes with the high cost of never getting truly to live at all.

Their discussion is interrupted by a battleship flying overhead. Even though Howl

might have left it alone in order to not endanger Sophie, he ―messed with it‖ in order to

protect innocent people from the bombs. In other words, Howl again showed that he held

compassionate feelings for others, even though, according to Madame Suliman, he does

not have a heart. At the same time, by alerting Madame Suliman‘s henchmen to their

presence, he was forced to take Sophie back to the portal and leave her, just as she hoped

that he would not do. Thus his decision to react to the battleship could again be consid-

ered to be one based more on Logos than on Eros, with the result of seeming to prove her

complex right.
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Figure 33: Madame Suliman‘s henchmen looking for the castle (Suzuki & Miyazaki,
2004).

Scene 31: Back at the Hat Shop. Before going to bed for the night, Markle tells

Sophie not to worry about Howl, for he often goes away for days at a time. As Sophie

puts the Witch of the Waste to bed, she tells Sophie that she has noticed that she is in

love. Sophie asks if she has ever been in love, and the Witch responds that she is still in

love and that she still adores men‟s hearts. She then notes that air raid sirens are

sounding and that there is also danger outside from Madame Suliman‟s henchmen. She

compliments Calcifer for keeping their house “so well hidden.”

Howl is shown flying as a bird among the warships, over a landscape below that

has been bombed and destroyed. Some soldiers lie dead, as others march on. The next

morning, many of the townsfolk migrate past the hat shop on their way out of town,

carrying their belongings and pulling wagons piled high with their possessions.
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In this scene both Markle and the Witch of the Waste attempt to comfort Sophie.

Rather than Sophie always providing all the support that is traditionally ascribed to the

feminine, this scene shows that the community, in turn, has developed to a point where it

can similarly support her. By so doing, Markle also gets an opportunity to experience

something of his own feminine side, thus a way through which potentially to grow into a

conscious relationship with it.

The Witch of the Waste shows that she not only is growing in her own feminine

relational capacity, but that she has even begun to remember something of her feminine

consciousness and feeling that had been gained over her lifetime. It is as if the stripping

away of what could be called a masculine power drive that had formerly held her in its

grip has enabled her to regain access to her feminine nature. She is thus ready to recog-

nize both Sophie‘s love and Calcifer‘s value in protecting them. She is also wise enough

to recognize the danger that is still posed by Madame Suliman. Most importantly, she

admits to Sophie that she is still ―in love,‖ thereby declaring that she is now identified

with love, rather than with power.

In this scene Howl also shows that he is playing a supporting role like Calcifer,

but one that is foolhardily attempting to fight both armies that are at war with one

another. Surrounded by warplanes and the streams of marching soldiers, he appears

outmatched and vulnerable. It could be said that he has masculine consciousness, or

Logos, enough to know that the war is morally wrong, but not enough feminine

consciousness, or Eros, to recognize his own value. Put another way, more simply, he

does not seem to exhibit an instinct for self-preservation, reacting to protect Sophie only

when monsters were coming after them. In contrast, the townspeople seem to have
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enough instinct to recognize that the tide of the war is against them, as, unlike Howl, they

are fleeing the town before they are under direct threat, carrying with them all that they

hold most dear.

The house and storefront that Howl made for them in town is not only shown to

be like the old one where she used to live and work, but it is the same one, for it even still

has ―Hatter‖ written on the front windows.

Figure 34: Honey embraces Sophie (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 32: Honey’s Betrayal. Markle comes running in to tell Sophie that “a

strange lady” is at the hat shop. The lady turns out to be Sophie‟s stepmother Honey,

who does not immediately recognize Sophie, but then comes running to give her a hug

when she does. Sophie happily hugs her back and invites her inside, where she tells

Sophie that she has moved away and married a rich man; she then invites Sophie to come
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to live with them. Sophie tells Honey that she is happy where she is. Honey then leaves,

saying that she has a car waiting.

The Witch of the Waste jumps up to grab the purse that Honey has left behind. As

she opens it, a black worm jumps out and the Witch grabs it. Recognizing it as a

“peeping bug” from Madame Suliman, she instructs Calcifer to “open wide” and flings it

into his mouth. Calcifer starts coughing and gagging, and his flame gets smaller.

Sophie follows Honey to her car to wish her and her new husband happiness. As

the car is being driven away, Honey tells the driver that she has done what Madame

Suliman wanted and asks that she be taken to her husband. When Sophie returns to the

hat shop, Markle asks her not to leave and tells her that he loves her. She tells him that

she loves him too, and agrees with him that they have become “a family.”She then

notices that the Witch of the Waste is smoking a cigar that she also found in Honey‟s

purse.

In this scene Honey betrays Sophie. Yet even though Sophie does not see through

Honey‘s intention, she is protected by the Witch of the Waste, who is becoming increas-

ingly aware and powerful. The Witch was able correctly to identify the threat of the

peeping bug, its name related to its giving Madame Suliman the ability to watch them;

she adeptly neutralizes it by using Calcifer, both of which moves indicate an increase in

what could be called a masculine quality of discernment, or Logos.

The cigar in Honey‘s purse can also be seen as an obvious symbol of male power.

That it was in Honey‘s purse suggests that Honey carries, and thus adheres to, something

of the patriarchal power system of the times. This can be seen in her adherence to

collective patriarchal values through her serving the wishes of both her rich husband and
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Madame Suliman, and of her concomitant betrayal of Sophie. Yet the Witch of the Waste

smoking the cigar does not suggest her support of the collective masculine power system,

but a rediscovery and a wielding of it as a source of personal power within herself. By

reminding the Witch of the Waste of the masculine power she can wield, the cigar also

can be considered another threat sent by Madame Suliman, yet one which she did not

recognize.

The Witch of the Waste could be said to show in this scene that, in coming back

into her own power, she is also coming into a specifically masculine version of it. Even

so, by protecting the household, the Witch also shows that this time she has not yet lost

herself in a drive for power, even though it could be said that she is showing a lack of

relatedness to or feeling for Calcifer, who chokes and gags on the peeping bug, while she

is happily smoking her cigar. It also could be said to show the resurgence of a self-

centeredness that may hold a danger for them all, and which could be said to foreshadow

the role she will play at the climax of the film.

While the Witch of the Waste appears to be enjoying a resurgence of masculine

Logos and power, Markle shows the growth of his feminine Eros nature by telling Sophie

that he loves her and identifying their community as a family. While in a previous scene

Markle tried to hide his feeling nature by wearing the disguise of an older, bearded man,

in this scene he drops this pretense in order to express his feelings verbally, and even

bodily through a hug. Sophie shows that she returns these same feelings, further

modeling an acceptance of, and a capacity for, feminine values.

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Figure 35: Sophie embraces Howl after he saves them (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 33: Howl’s Return. Using bellows, Sophie attempts to get Calcifer

burning properly, but is not successful. The Witch of the Waste smokes her cigar and

seems not to care. When Markle goes to open a window, the Witch quietly advises him

not to, because Calcifer is too weak to protect them from Madame Suliman‟s henchmen.

Markle does not hear her and opens it anyway, whereupon Sophie runs to close it.

As soon as the window is open, bombers appear in the sky and start dropping

bombs on the town. Sophie runs outside to check on the hat shop; by the time she reaches

the front porch, she has turned back into a young woman again. As she watches part of

the town go up in flames, she notices Madame Suliman‟s henchmen approaching.

Chastising them for not putting out fires from the bombs instead of coming after them,

she runs back into the shop.

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When Sophie is in the courtyard, she spots a bomber directly overhead dropping

bombs. As she watches, a bomb falls towards her; Howl swoops down and attempts to

stop it. He rides the bomb down, and, even though it lands in the courtyard, he has

slowed its descent enough to keep it from exploding. Sophie embraces him. When

Madame Suliman‟s henchmen appear at the hat shop, Howl takes her under his wing and

carries her inside the house. He makes the door close behind him and, at the same time,

whisks the henchmen out of the house.

Howl blows on Calcifer, telling him to “hang in there.” Howl asks the Witch of

the Waste if the cigar was a gift from Suliman. She flirtatiously says, “Well, if it isn‟t

Howl,” and then asks him for a “heart to heart” discussion. Howl says there is nothing

he would like more, as soon as there is time for it. Howl then asks for the cigar and the

Witch of the Waste gives it to him, saying that it is unlike like him not to be “running

away.”

Sophie embraces Howl again as he is readying to leave, saying that it is too

dangerous for him to go out there; she suggests that they run away together instead.

Howl tells her that he is not going to run away anymore, because now he has something

to protect, and that it is she.

As Sophie struggles to get Calcifer going again, the Witch of the Waste does not

offer any kind of explanation. Even though she correctly avers that Calcifer is too weak

to protect the house if Markle opens the window, she does not show any degree of

feminine feeling about his suffering or regret for her own part in causing it. She seems

too distracted by her own pleasure in smoking the cigar even to attempt to stop Markle

from opening the window, nor does she get up when bombs shake the building. Psycho-
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logically, as described above, she could be said to exhibit an unrelatedness and self-

absorption that have come over her only since she started smoking the cigar, looking

every bit of a patriarch in her adeptness at the act.

Suliman‘s henchmen are blob men like those used by the Witch of the Waste, but

they wear a different uniform. Sophie tries to reason with them, but they do not seem to

listen or care. They are not only without a solid form, but they also seem as if they have

no individual nature. They only seem to follow whoever leads them. Psychologically,

they are like representatives of the collective masculine, what Jung (1966b) called ―mass-

men‖ (p. 48), who have become fully identified with their collective role and could,

therefore, be said to have thereby given up not only their feminine feeling but their

masculine discernment as well.

Sophie‘s appearance changes back into a young woman, except that her hair

remains gray. It could be said that the change is due to her passion to protect her new

family. When she sees a bomb falling into the courtyard and Howl attempting to stop it,

she gives a warning to Howl, scared for his life instead of her own. Psychologically, to

the extent that Sophie and Howl could be said to represent both the feminine and

masculine sides of the same psyche, this could be said to be the moment when the

feminine aspect not only fully recognizes the value of the masculine, but fully gives itself

over to a relationship with it. As if in response to this, Howl carries Sophie inside.

Inside the castle, Howl first attempts to bring Calcifer back to life, and then takes

the cigar away from the Witch of the Waste. Both could be said to be tasks aimed at

taking care of them, Calcifer for his ability to protect them, and the cigar in an attempt to

remove a something foreign from the castle, the ego-container, much as Sophie and the
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others had previously removed the flying machine. He points out that the cigar was a gift

from Madame Suliman, thereby suggesting that it is some kind of trap for the Witch of

the Waste. As a masculine symbol, it could be said to have been offered as a temptation

for the Witch of the Waste to become consumed with greed for masculine power again.

As Howl showed the Witch of the Waste, he does not choose to run away any-

more. He declares this intention out loud to Sophie as they embrace again, telling her that

he wants to protect her. Psychologically, this could be said to show the masculine part of

the psyche fully giving itself over to relationship with the feminine part, thereby putting

all its resources towards protecting and supporting it. At the same time, in its new role,

this masculine ego has put itself into a new danger, for its only plan is to make a stand

and fight against all odds. In other words, while it can recognize the value of the feminine

in Sophie, it still cannot recognize such value in itself. At this point in the narrative, it is

able to witness this value only in its projected form.

Figure 36: Howl tears into a battleship (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).
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Scene 34: Moving the Castle. After Sophie leaves, the blob men come into the

courtyard, so she locks the door. The door rattles as they try to force their way in. Sophie

turns the portal switch to the green color—the portal to the wastes—and the rattling

stops. She opens the door and runs through the pouring rain to the ridge top. In the night

sky she can see fires burning in her hometown below, and a battleship dropping more

bombs. She sees that Howl is in trouble, as, encircled by monsters, he tears into the

battleship as it falls from the sky. As he does so, he looks more like a black wolf than a

bird monster.

Sophie runs back inside and tells Calcifer that they will have to move the portals.

Even though Calcifer states that only Howl can do that, Sophie tells him that Howl will

protect the hat shop until he is killed, so she has no choice but to try. She asks Markle to

help take the Witch of the Waste outside, and then scoops Calcifer onto a shovel and

starts rushing for the door. Calcifer tells her that the castle might collapse when they

leave, and it does.

Sophie then searches for a way back into the wreckage, in search of the hearth. It

is now only rustic stone and has no chimney. Turnip Head helps bring the Witch of the

Waste to the entry point. Sophie grabs wood from a broken staircase and feeds it to

Calcifer, telling him that he needs to move the castle to wherever Howl is so that he can

see that they are safe. Calcifer says he needs something of Sophie‟s to do it, and she

offers him her hair. Calcifer eats it, and then, greatly empowered, lifts the beams of the

room on his shoulders. Many parts of the castle fall away, but some begin to accumulate,

and finally a much smaller, rudimentary structure comes together and walks away from

the wreckage.
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With a flash of insight, Sophie realizes that all of them can escape the hat shop

and Suliman‘s henchmen as simply as turning the dial on the portal. Yet Sophie also

discovers that Howl is still in great danger and does not know they are safe; she realizes

that now they must somehow find a way to show this to him. The rain is falling, which

could be a sign of renewal, but in the darkness of night and during this time of battle, it is

more indicative of a storm or a flood. In alchemical symbolism the rain could be another

symbol for the process of solutio, which, as described above, can be necessary in a

process of transformation to dissolve old structures in order to make new ones possible.

In the spirit of breaking down old structures, Sophie has the further insight to

sever the portal to the hat shop so that Howl will stop protecting it. The only way to do

this is to remove Calcifer from the hearth and destroy the castle. Even though Calcifer

does not believe it is possible for anyone but Howl to rearrange the portals or to move

him, Sophie does not listen to him, and she is able to do both. Sophie also shows that she

does not care about the castle, the hat shop, or anything else, but is focused only on

Howl‘s immediate need for safety. This indicates that she has an insight and motivation

based on a feminine consciousness. It suggests a heroism that is similarly feminine,

because it based on her feeling of what is most important to her, and specifically to that

which she loves. For her love for Howl, she is able to destroy his entire castle, or ego-

container.

That she is able to do this, and that she is still visually represented in the form of

her true, younger self, is likely no coincidence. The image of her old self may have

helped her separate from feelings of abandonment and her own unattractiveness, but it

also limited her relationships to others and herself. Taking the form of her younger self
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shows that she has been able to transcend this inner, and indeed outer, image and live to

more of her full capacity. That her hair remains gray could be called a sign of a wisdom

that she has achieved in the process of learning fully to engage her feelings. She is not the

dreamy young Sophie any longer, but more a Sophia of wisdom as well as of action. She

is also not constrained by her old self-defeating Logos when she lives within, and acts

upon, her true Eros nature.

Calcifer asks Sophie for something of her own. As discussed above, through

becoming conjoined with Howl‘s heart, Calcifer became constrained within the castle‘s

hearth, while also gaining the power and ability to move and control the castle and its

inhabitants. His asking for something of Sophie‘s is asking power similar to hers, even if

it might come with additional constraints. That she specifically offers him her hair is

perhaps not only because it can grow back and is, therefore, only a temporary loss, but

also because of o the symbolism of hair as a source of power and virility, as in the Old

Testament story of Samson and Delilah. That she does not need her long hair any more is

also a sign that she has transcended her former desire to look attractive to others.

Calcifer uses the power he gains to lift the castle by force rather than by conscious

design, thereby losing a great portion of it in the process and showing the limits that he

has without Howl‘s consciousness to lead the restructuring. The castle, as it was, could be

said to represent Howl‘s conscious psyche; therefore, without his consciousness involved

and reflected in its construction, most of its rooms and structures are lost. The castle that

Calcifer is able to put together could be said to reflect only the amount of consciousness

that Calcifer carries without Howl being present, i.e., the room directly surrounding the

central hearth, in the position of Howl‘s heart, which Calcifer himself carries. The
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outcome is chimneyless and archaic, visually suggesting a very early form of conscious

development that is more akin to the Stone Age than to modern times.

Figure 37: Heen jumps to Sophie as she falls (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 35: Howl’s Heart. As Calcifer carries the castle towards a promontory

where they can reveal their newly found safe position to Howl, Sophie compliments

Calcifer. Calcifer says, “Just think of what I could have done with your eyes, or heart!”

The Witch of the Waste exclaims, “That‟s it! You‟ve got Howl‟s heart!” She reaches into

the flames and takes the heart, and thereby Calcifer as well, into her hands. “It‟s mine!”

she declares. Calcifer starts howling in agony. Sophie rushes to the Witch of the Waste

and tells her to put Calcifer back, but the castle starts running amok and rocking wildly,

throwing her to the floor.

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Without Calcifer in the hearth, the castle narrowly makes it across a chasm as it

careens along rocky ridge tops. The Witch of the Waste says, “It‟s hot; it‟s burning!,” as

Sophie tells her that she‟s catching on fire. The Witch of the Waste says again, “It‟s

mine!” Since Sophie cannot take it from her, she fetches a bucket of water and throws it

on Calcifer, whose fire immediately almost goes out, as he and the heart take on a blue

glow.

Immediately, the castle breaks in half, with Sophie on one side and the rest of

them on the other. As Sophie‟s half breaks away, it begins falling, and Heen jumps across

into Sophie‟s arms. Sophie screams, as her half of the castle falls into the chasm below.

Clutching Calcifer and Howl‟s blue heart, the Witch of the Waste cries, “Sophie ruined

it! My heart is ruined!”

The Witch of the Waste shows that her consciousness has finally come back

enough that she is able to solve the riddle of Howl‘s heart, and yet she also shows that her

self-centered greed has returned in her taking of it. Calcifer‘s declaration about his ability

to use Sophie‘s heart may have similarly enabled Sophie to solve the riddle of Howl‘s

heart as well, yet she was so focused on Howl‘s plight that she did not have a chance to

consider the meaning of this new information. In taking the heart for herself, the Witch of

the Waste could be said to have shown her lack of relatedness to the others, as well as her

own instinctual desire to own it at all costs. Psychologically, it may be that the object of

her desire in Howl‘s heart is a projection of a part of herself for which she longs, and that

her sobbing that it was ―ruined‖ is because, in its disempowered state, it does not measure

up to the projection.
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Even though she holds in her hands what she has always believed she most

desired, the Witch‘s projection has been broken. Instead of realizing that it is not what

she had truly wanted, she unconsciously chooses to blame, and thus scapegoat, Sophie for

ruining it. And yet, because Sophie may have inadvertently extinguished its masculine

power, in this way she has indeed ruined it. Sophie‘s solution to the Witch of the Waste‘s

catching on fire was to throw water upon her. At the same time it also put out Calcifer‘s

hot red fire, leaving in its place a watery blue glow. This change in Calcifer could again

be explained as a process of solutio, for the water could be said to have diluted, dis-

solved, and washed away his energy—his masculine libido, if you will—that was

symbolized by the red flames, leaving behind what could be called a watery blue glow, in

other words a symbolic expression of his undeveloped feminine side. This watery femi-

nine is not at all what the Witch of the Waste had wanted, which was a direct connection

to the masculine, even if she had mistakenly confused masculine power for love.

In putting the needs of the Witch of the Waste first, one could say that Sophie did

not think with her rational mind, her Logos, but instead reacted to the situation with her

heart, her Eros. This is another way of saying that she used what could be called her

feminine, intuitive consciousness that is primarily motivated by the needs of those she

loves. Even though it was the refusal of the Witch of the Waste to let go of Calcifer that

caused her to catch on fire, Sophie‘s immediate response was to save her. Sophie thus

showed that she placed Eros above any other strategic consideration, which in this case

included their common goal of showing Howl that they were safe and that he need not

fight any longer to protect their old home.

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While in many traditional myths this may well have been the point at which a

masculine hero killed the witch in order to steal her treasure, it could be said that in this

narrative it was when a feminine hero chose instead to save the witch. The direct result of

this action was that Sophie took what could literally be described as a fall, another

common motif in myths. As a result, Howl‘s castle split in two, and the half within which

she stood tumbled into a chasm. One could say that this was the consequence, no matter

how necessary, of pouring water on a ―god,‖ the archetypal energy represented by

Calcifer. Yet even so, such a splitting, in the symbol system of alchemy, is a process

known as separatio; because it is another process that is often necessary for a transforma-

tion to occur, it could be said that this was the next necessary stage of their journey. Like

the alchemical process of solutio that dissolves chemical constituents that are soluble,

separatio divides those constituents that are insoluble. It can, therefore, be a stage that

creates the necessary conditions and opportunity for new processes to occur.

That Heen jumps to Sophie as she falls could be said to show that, for a second

time, an instinctive masculine element is willing to follow Sophie even despite grave and

mortal danger. Rather than seek comfort and avoid pain, Heen shows that his duty is to

something larger. While the Witch of the Waste could also be called instinctual, for she

also follows her feelings rather than her intellect, unlike her Heen is not drawn to power.

Instead, like Sophie, he seems motivated by an Eros and to feel a sense of duty towards

those he loves; by following her, he could be said to have served that side of his own

nature. In doing so he may also have modeled the importance that the masculine instinct

places on the relationship to the feminine.

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Figure 38: Sophie and Heen cross liminal space (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 36: Sophie’s Journey. At the bottom of the rocky chasm, amidst the

wreckage of part of the castle, Sophie slumps on her knees in near darkness. Heen comes

out of the wreckage and barks, but Sophie does not notice. Heen barks again; Sophie

finally turns, and through her tears says, “Heen, what have I done? I‟ve poured water on

Calcifer. What if I killed Howl too?”

As she sobs into her hands, a blue light begins to bubble out of them like water,

turning into a focused ray of light that points past Heen. The light stops, and Heen barks

at Sophie urgently. Sophie notices her ring shaking on her finger and glowing blue. She

asks the ring if it can lead her to Howl, and it momentarily bubbles up again like water

out of a fountain, then pointing its blue light once more in the direction to which it

pointed before. Sophie gets up and follows the direction of the beam past some of the
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wreckage, realizing that it points to the front door of the castle, with the portal switch

turned to black.

Sophie opens the door and puts her hand inside. It is like putting her hand into

water. She goes in, and Heen follows. They walk through pitch darkness following the

blue light, finally coming to a room that is a small study. Sophie pauses to look at the

desk, which has books and papers on it, while Heen scratches at the door to be let

outside. She follows Heen, and they soon stand outside the small cottage in a mountain

meadow that Howl had used as a study during his childhood. Stars are falling from the

sky, and she sees Howl as a young boy. She realizes she is in Howl‟s childhood and runs

towards him across the grass. Stars fall around her and smash as they land. One smashes

into the water next to her, and a small human form inside can be seen sinking into the

lake.

Sophie sees Howl as a boy catch one of the stars in his hands and speak to it

before swallowing it. He then leans over and coughs, and it emerges out of his chest

along with his heart in the form of Calcifer. Just then Sophie‟s ring shatters, and a

wormhole opens beneath her. She calls to Howl and Calcifer from the encroaching

darkness, telling them that she knows their secret and they should look for her in the

future.

The earth closes up behind her. Sophie then begins falling, with Heen following

her again. She falls through the clouds towards the sea, past a dawning sunrise. Heen

catches up to her and barks at her to follow, showing her that they can walk in this realm

as before. This time they walk through darkness over burning flames below, ultimately
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returning to the portal. As soon as they exit and are back in their original time and place,

it disappears.

Miraculously, Sophie and Heen both survive the fall. At the bottom of the dark

rocky chasm, all movement stops, and Sophie has time to reflect on what has occurred.

She realizes that she poured water on Calcifer, something that he had told her would kill

him and Howl too. She cries deeply in her grief. The darkness of night, the gray rocky

chasm devoid of all life, and the wreckage of the castle all seem symbolically to match

the depth of Sophie‘s despair. This scene could be called the narrative‘s darkest hour, the

time when all hope is lost.

In alchemical symbolism, the darkness and despair of this scene could be said to

reflect the process of mortificatio. As Edinger (1985) described, mortificatio is a time of

darkness and death; to one who is encountering it, it is often experienced as both ―defeat

and failure‖ (p. 172). Yet Edinger also stated that out of these experiences can come

positive ones (p. 148), for, due to Jung‘s law of opposites, ―an intense awareness of one

side constellates its contrary. Out of the darkness is born the light‖ (pp. 149-150). It is

just this kind of intense awareness that this scene describes. Yet instead of Howl having

this awareness himself, it is Sophie. If these characters are considered psychologically,

instead of Howl, the ego-consciousness, experiencing it directly, it could be said that he

is able to have this experience only through Sophie, his unconscious opposite and

contrasexual other. It may be that it takes this other to have the capacity and perspective

to be able to respond fully to his situation, and it is this very ―intense awareness,‖ as

depicted in her love and grief, that constellates the solution.

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The ring had previously guided her, but with a red light that pointed the way to

Calcifer‘s red flame. This time it is a blue light, the same color as water, and indeed

comes bubbling out of the ring like water while she also cries her own tears. It is colored

as if, instead of reflecting the red masculine flame of Calcifer‘s masculine energy, this

time it reflects the more feminine symbol of water. This could be called fitting, for the

ring leads Sophie to the condition of Howl‘s heart just prior to his swallowing Calcifer. In

that original state, his heart could be said to have still contained his feminine feeling

nature, to which the ring is connecting and drawing her.

The image of water and fire was also shown in Sophie‘s entering the abyss, the

black portal, which appeared as if she put her hand into, and then entered, water. Her

traverse through this water is similarly shown as total darkness, a complete absence of

light. Yet in contrast to this, when Heen leads her back to the portal, as when Howl came

in and out of the black portal, it is depicted as a realm over red flames. It is as if the same

realm is symbolized as fire or water, depending on the gender of the individual leading

the crossing.

In this section, Heen, as animals often do in myths, plays the role of psychopomp.

In other words, he leads her towards the door of, and then back from, what could be

called the underworld. Yet Sophie shows that she can take a leading role in this realm

also. Again, however, Sophie takes the lead only when it is necessary for another

individual she loves—in other words, when she is following her Eros. Heen is necessary

for the return journey, when a masculine discrimination could be said to be required to

separate the traveler from that experience in order to find a new way.
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The image of the star child sinking into the lake shows what was happening to the

falling stars. They were being extinguished by smashing into the earth. By catching

Calcifer, Howl could thus be said to have saved him. They then had a conversation with

each other before Howl swallowed him, as if they were together consciously choosing

their conjoined destiny. Yet afterwards, due to a loss of individual perspective, which

could be called the ―curse‖ of identification, both seemed to forget exactly what had

occurred. For this it could be said that they needed the outside perspective of Sophie.

Both could also be said to have needed her specifically feminine perspective as well, for

their joining may well have led to an overbalancing of masculine consciousness.

That the ring broke when Calcifer was swallowed was likely because its blue light

brought her to Howl‘s original, whole, and embodied heart. The tension in the wormhole

in time and space could also have been too much for the ring to endure, and it may have

broken under the strain. In either case, as soon as Sophie learned what happened to Howl

and Calcifer, she was sent back to her own timeline. While Sophie was able to call

instructions to them as she fell into the portal, they were probably only able to hear her

and not fully see her. Thus her message may have seemed as if it was something of an

uncanny vision or a dream image that was easily forgotten, yet one that may have planted

a kind of seed of memory in each. This potential seed of memory allows Calcifer‘s letting

Sophie into the castle to make more sense, as well as making Howl‘s first sentence to

Sophie, that he had ―been looking everywhere‖ for her, take on additional meaning.

The moment that Heen shows Sophie the way out of the void, the first rays of a

new dawn are displayed behind them. After the darkness of the beginning of this scene,
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this dawn light is a sign of hope, in addition to her being led by Heen, who, as a dog,

could be said to represent the innocence and guilelessness of natural instinct.

Figure 39: Howl takes Sophie and Heen to find Calcifer (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 37: Reunion. Heen and Sophie come out of the portal into the light of

dawn. Just as they exit, the door disappears. In the form of a bird monster, Howl is

waiting for them amidst the wreckage of much of his castle. Sophie finds him to be both

wounded and unable to speak. She tells him that she “didn‟t mean to keep him waiting so

long” and kisses him.

Sophie asks Howl to take her to Calcifer. She and Heen ride on his left foot, as the

right one appears to be lost. On top of a rocky ridge they come to what remains of

Howl‟s castle, now just a wood platform that has shed most of its parts as it walks on its

two remaining bird feet. On it the Witch of the Waste hunches, as if resting, still clutching
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Calcifer tightly in her grip. Markle lies hunched beside her, and Turnip Head stands

watchfully nearby.

Again, the light of dawn is a hopeful sign, reflected not only in Sophie‘s return

from her archetypal journey through time and space with the answer to Howl‘s problem,

but also in the dawn of the new day into which she returns when she finds Howl waiting

for her. That Howl is in the wreckage of part of his castle is fitting, because he looks

wrecked himself. Sophie‘s telling him that she did not mean to keep him waiting could

refer to his long wait for her to return from her journey into his past, or to the amount of

time that it took her to realize the true nature of his problem and how to fix it.

In kissing Howl, Sophie could be said to be expressing her love for, and accep-

tance of, him, much as kisses have traditionally played a similar role in fairly tales as

redemption motifs. Yet because her kiss is given by her lips to his, it could also be said to

represent a ―joining together and mutual adherence‖ (Chevalier & Gheerbrant, 1994, p.

571), much as wedding kisses do to this day. That Sophie is able to give Howl such a kiss

also represents the culmination of her own growth and self-acceptance. It could be said to

be befitting of her representation as both a young woman and a woman with silvery-gray

hair. She has rediscovered her youthful energy and the libido of what Woodman (1993)

called the virgin, as well as something of the wisdom and experience of what she called

the crone. Sophie‘s kiss could also be said to represent something of her increased

masculine capacity, in that it reflects her ability to mobilize both.

Although Howl may have been too wrecked to return her kiss, or even to respond

to her verbally, he was able to show his devotion to Sophie both by his having waited for

her and by his immediate and unquestioning response to her direction on where to be
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taken. In so doing he again showed that he would follow her lead, even in what may have

seemed to him as his final act. Read psychologically, it shows that he has placed feminine

consciousness into a paramount position. His left foot, like the left side of the body, could

be said to represent his feminine side; after all of his flying and fighting, it appears as if

he has suffered the complete loss of his right, or symbolically masculine, foot. In other

words, after all of what could be called his masculine striving to solve the problem, in his

now broken state he ―stands on‖ only what remains, i.e., his own feminine principle.

That the castle is still able to walk shows that Howl‘s heart and Calcifer are

somehow both still alive. But there is also very little of the castle left, due to Calcifer‘s

weakened condition. It also could be said that the castle is running without the conscious

control of Calcifer, as if it is operating mechanically on an instinctual basis only. What is

left of the castle could be said psychologically to represent a consciousness that is almost

extinguished. Even though Turnip Head may be watching where the castle is going, he

does not have any control of his own over it.

The image of Markle lying next to the Witch of the Waste for comfort suggests

not only that Markle is still a young boy who continues to need the nurturing support of a

mother, but also that the Witch of the Waste, despite her greedy action of stealing Howl‘s

heart, is indeed something of a mother. Even in her own grief and despair, the Witch of

the Waste accepts Markle being next to her in his own grief, so that both of them could

be said to be comforting one another.

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Figure 39: Sophie talks to Calcifer before returning Howl‘s heart to his chest (Suzuki &
Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 38: Return. As soon as Sophie, Heen, and Howl land on the platform,

Howl collapses. All of his feathers blow away, and he lies unconscious and unmoving.

Sophie rolls him over. Markle asks if he is dead. She says, “No, Markle,” and then asks

the Witch of the Waste to give Howl‟s heart back. The Witch pretends she does not have

it, but when Sophie hugs her and asks for it lovingly, the Witch returns it. Sophie tells her

that she has “a big heart” and kisses her.

Calcifer tells Sophie that he is very tired. She asks Calcifer what will happen to

him if she gives Howl back his heart, and he says that he thinks that it will be okay. He

notes that they both survived even after she poured water on him. She observes that

Howl‟s heart is small and fluttering, “like a bird,” and Calcifer states that it is “still just

the heart of a child.”

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Sophie makes a wish that Calcifer will survive and that Howl will “take back his

heart.” She then places the heart into Howl‟s chest, and Calcifer immediately emerges as

a star, excitedly flying in circles before he shoots off into the distance. Howl gasps, and

Markle shouts, “He‟s alive!”

Howl‘s feathers drop off after he falls into unconsciousness; it could be said that

this part of Howl, the bird monster, is removed by his complete giving up not only of

conscious control, but of consciousness itself. To the extent that Howl psychologically

represents the ego consciousness, this consciousness is, for this moment at least, extin-

guished. At this moment, all that remains is his bodily awareness, or his feminine

instinctive being, and it could be said that it is this that releases what remains of his old

powerful masculine persona in the form of the bird monster.

When Sophie turns him over, she does not seem to need any further diagnostic in

order to know he is still alive. But she does know that he needs his heart back. When the

Witch of the Waste attempts to deceive her, Sophie does not challenge her verbally or

physically. Either would be based on choosing Howl over the Witch, and would thereby

use a masculine discrimination. Instead she responds relationally, by hugging the Witch

of the Waste. It is this act of love that seems to restore the Witch into her own heart, and

she gives the heart back to Sophie out of her own feminine feeling for Sophie. Sophie

kisses the Witch of the Waste on the cheek, acknowledging the size of her heart, i.e., her

feminine nature. Sophie‘s kiss could, therefore, be said to establish symbolically the

Witch of the Waste‘s redemption.

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Calcifer states that he recognizes that Sophie somehow did not kill him with the

water. That he is willing to go along with her plan of giving Howl back his heart shows

that, like Howl and even the Witch of the Waste, he also puts his full trust in Sophie.

Before Sophie returns Howl‘s heart to his chest, she prays that Calcifer will not be

harmed and that Howl will accept his heart. Due to the fact that, with his heart, Howl will

be made whole, this prayer could be said, psychologically speaking, to be made to the

Self, to be an expression of herself as a bridge to, or even the devoted agent of, the Self.

That she does not want to harm even Calcifer shows that she puts as much value into

archetypal aspects of the psyche as into more conscious ones. Psychologically, this could

be said to make sense, for, to the extent that she plays the role for the ego of bridge to the

Self, she also could be said similarly to play the same role for all the aspects of the

psyche. As she fully rises to this role as the Self‘s agent, she cannot place a value of one

over the other. Moreover, Sophie‘s prayer draws attention to the spiritual value of her

action. Through her attempt to restore Howl‘s heart to its rightful position in his own

chest, she is enabling him to be able to further relate not only to others, but also to his

own soul. Her action could, therefore, be called a spiritual goal, expressing something of

the spiritual aspect of the individuation process.

In the symbolism of alchemy, Sophie giving his heart back to Howl can be

described as another process of separatio. Howl‘s conjoined state with Calcifer could be

said to have been a stage that he has outgrown. In this state his heart had been protected,

but Howl himself was not able to grow. As Calcifer noted, his heart remained ―that of a

child‖; to the extent that Calcifer could be said to represent the child archetype, he was
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the perfect recipient of it. Yet for Howl to transition to an adult he must regain his heart,

and it must grow into the heart of an adult.

Sophie states that Howl‘s heart is like a fluttering bird, yet another bird reference.

Fluttering is often used to describe the action of a bird attempting to fly, such as an

adolescent bird that is practicing using its wings while fledging. This is a fitting image for

the psychological transition that is taking place.

Figure 41: Heen reports to Madame Suliman (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

Scene 39: Resolution. Without Calcifer the platform collapses. As it slides off the

end of the ridge, Turnip Head attempts to stop its fall but his pole snaps. The platform

drops off, but then lands upright, bridging a crevasse. Sophie gives Turnip Head a kiss

for slowing their fall and thereby saving them, and he turns into a blond-haired prince.

He tells them that he is the prince from the neighboring kingdom, and that the war
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occurred because the spell was put on him and he could not return there. The Witch of

the Waste says that the spell was broken by a kiss from his true love.

Howl groans awake, announcing that his chest hurts. Sophie tells him that “a

heart is a heavy burden.” When he compliments her gray hair, she tells him that she

loves it too and then embraces him. The Witch of the Waste tells the prince that his true

love loves someone else, so he had better go home and stop the war. He agrees, but says

that he will be back, because “one thing you can always count on is heart‟s change.”

Heen reports to Madame Suliman in her crystal ball, showing her that all is

resolved. Madame Suliman says to her page, “The game is over. Get me the prime

minister and the minister of defense.”

To the extent that Calcifer represents psychic energy, his departure indicates a

withdrawal and loss of libido. This loss could be said to be what causes Howl‘s castle to

fall. It is to this danger that Turnip Head responds, for he could be said to portray a

shadow-hero who is also committed to helping Sophie,51 who is falling off the platform.

That he snaps his pole suggests, like Howl‘s loss of his feathers, that his masculine

capability, or what would colloquially be called his ―backbone,‖ is similarly broken. In

the Red Book (2012), Jung described such a state as one of ―incapacity‖ (2012, p. 156),

calling it not only a necessary precondition for a transformation to occur, but a valuable

achievement that comes only when one lets go of one‘s previous ―myth.‖ He thus warned

that, within each individual, incapacity ―wants to live, but it will overthrow your Gods‖

(p. 174). The snapping of Turnip Head‘s pole also suggests that, for incapacity to ―live,‖

both masculine heroes, as represented by Howl and Turnip Head, needed to take a fall.

51
Von Franz (1996) described the ―shadow-hero‖ as an archetypal character that can show up in myths and
fairy tales to assist the hero (p. 114). The shadow-hero can hold shadow aspects of the hero of which he or
she is unconscious, so this help can compensate for qualities that the hero has not yet developed.
 276

At the same time, even though Calcifer has departed and Howl‘s castle falls apart,

because Howl‘s heart is returned to his chest, Howl himself does not die. Instead, he

awakens groaning, saying that his chest hurts, to which comment Sophie tells him that a

heart is a ―heavy burden.‖ It is a burden for him, because he will now have to suffer his

feelings directly, by himself, without Calcifer‘s mitigating effect. His heart seems heavy,

because it is that which gives him gravity and anchors him, relating him to his surround-

ings, to the people in it, and to himself, even to his own soul.

For his valiant effort, Sophie kisses Turnip Head, which, due to his being made

out of her least favorite vegetable, von Franz (1980) described as a specific redemption

motif based on ―overcoming revulsion‖ (p. 115). In other words, it is one more sugges-

tion that Sophie has overcome all her judgments based on appearances, i.e., her father

complex, and is able to see Turnip Head for something of his true value and nature. This

redeems him, or removes his curse, because she both accepts him for who he is and

honors him. To Turnip Head it is also a kiss from his true love, because the prince, or

shadow-hero, from the neighboring kingdom or collective unconscious, could be called

the archetypal mirror image of Howl in the unconscious. Therefore, Sophie could be said

to be his own contrasexual other, also.

By noting that ―hearts change,‖ Turnip Head is stating a psychological fact from

primarily a masculine perspective. The psyche could be said to be in constant change, for

change describes life just as stasis suggests death. But from a feminine perspective, it is

more accurate to say that the heart will not change, but grow. From this perspective,

Sophie would not stop loving Howl, but, to the extent that psychic growth towards

greater wholeness occurs, she would at some point be expected to come into relationship
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with the psychic factor that Turnip Head represents. Just as she has come into relation-

ship with Markle, the Witch of the Waste, Calcifer, and Heen, this process will continue

until she is ultimately related to the entire psyche.52 From the feminine perspective that

Sophie represents, this is what individuation truly means.

Howl reports to Madame Suliman to show her what has transpired. Then, both

laughing and wagging his tail as he rejoins the others, he shows his happiness at the

outcome. This also indicates Madame Suliman‘s misjudgment of Heen‘s loyalty to her, as

his true loyalty is to those who better carry and embody the feminine principle. Instead,

as Madame Suliman states, she was only playing a ―game,‖ with the war she started with

the neighboring kingdom and the spell she put on its prince. Nevertheless, in calling the

ministers, Madame Suliman shows that she has not yet given up the patriarchal power she

wields. The old patriarch has not yet relinquished the throne.

By finding his ―true love,‖ as Suliman suggests, Howl could be said not only to

have found Sophie, with whom he was already in relationship when he confronted

Suliman, but also his capacity truly to love. This could be considered to be a confirmation

that the return of Howl‘s heart to his own chest has made him whole.

52
This, of course, describes an ideal goal for psychological growth, one that is much better reflected in the
world of myths than in the contemporary world in which we live.
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Figure 42: Sophie and Howl on the balcony of the flying castle (Suzuki & Miyazaki,
2004).

Scene 40: Outcome. After Turnip Head leaves to stop the war, Calcifer returns,

saying that he “missed” them. Holding him in her cupped hands, Sophie tells Calcifer

that she missed him too and kisses him.

Below dark clouds, warships fly back home to the right of the screen, while far

above, Howl‟s castle is shown, rebuilt and improved, flying away to the left. With far

fewer fortifications, it has now incorporated trees and a garden, as well as wings upon

which it flies. The hearth, with Calcifer burning within, now has an open view to the

outside, and all the shutters to the kitchen area are open. While the Witch of the Waste

reads a book beside Calcifer, Heen and Markle run and play on the grass.

On a balcony far above them stand Howl and Sophie. Both wear attractive, yet

conventional clothe; apart from a brooch that both wear, Sophie‟s red and Howl‟s blue,
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neither wears any jewelry or clothing to denote status or role. They kiss as the castle flies

off above the white clouds.

Turnip Head returns to his rightful home in order to stop the war, and,

psychologically speaking, to balance the psyche. The tricking of this archetypal element

of the unconscious into staying in the realm of consciousness could be described as a sin

against the ―gods.‖ At the same time, once stuck, it was only by its being fully recog-

nized and valued by consciousness that it was enabled to return to its own capacities, and

thus for a psychological healing to take place. That the prince‘s return was successful is

depicted in the battleships peacefully returning back home to the right, i.e., the masculine

side of the psyche. That they are symbolically shown below dark clouds could be said to

express something of the dark threat that they represented.

In this scene, Howl‘s castle is depicted as flying through the air. While earlier it

only had bird feet, now it has developed wings to match. Symbolically, this could be said

potentially to represent a consciousness that has now fully fledged into its adult form.

While flying could be seen as an inflation, it could also be seen as an image of a psyche

that is whole, for the characters left behind could be seen as not important for this stage in

development. Again using the metaphorical system of alchemy, an act of separatio has

taken place, the waste elements have been removed and discarded, and the desired

outcome has been achieved. In other words, what is shown are the elements of the psyche

related to consciousness and the ego. When complexes that have been constellated have

lost their value to the present situation, their psychic energy is withdrawn and they sink

back into the unconscious.

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Howl‘s castle has also changed. It could now be said to reflect more elements of

Howl‘s life than only defensive fortifications. Calcifer has come back and is shown

burning in the hearth, thus providing psychic energy again, but this time by choice. The

Witch of the Waste is shown relaxing and reading a book, which may represent a more

fitting use for her Logos, one which may even lead to some personal growth or enrich-

ment. And, as they were at Star Lake, Heen and Markle are finally able to play again,

which brings new elements of emotional expression and enjoyment into the conscious

container.

Far above, Howl and Sophie ride on a balcony, holding hands, yet neither seems

to be watching where they are going. Unlike at the beginning, when trying on a fashion-

able hat made Sophie upset, in this scene Sophie is able to wear a beautiful hat and even a

pretty and colorful dress. This could be said to show that she now accepts her appearance

without judgment, which goes along with the previous scene in which she stated that she

liked the way her hair looked now. Howl does not wear any of his former jewelry or

elements of his wizard outfit, but instead also wears conventional clothes. This could be

said to reflect a new identity that not only cares less about his outer appearance, but also

one that has dropped the inflated identity of wizard for one of simply being himself.

Sophie‘s and Howl‘s red and blue brooches match each other in form, which

could be said to reflect their status as an equal couple. Yet the blue color on Howl‘s

brooch, the symbolically feminine color of water associated with Sophie, and the red

color on Sophie‘s, the symbolically masculine color of fire associated with Howl and

Calcifer, could be said to express symbolically a recognition of each individual‘s

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opposite, and previously inner, masculine or feminine nature that each of them has now

succeeded in consciously developing and attaining.

The equal partnership of Howl and Sophie could be said to fit the final alchemical

stage of the coniunctio, which, as Edinger (1985) stated, refers to the state of ―the final

union of the purified opposites‖ that ―mitigates and rectifies all one-sidedness‖ (p. 215).

Edinger further indicated that ―a major symbolic image for the coniunctio is the marriage

and/or sexual intercourse between Sol and Luna or some other personification of the

opposites‖ (p. 217), of which Sophie and Howl could be considered examples. As they

fly away, the flag on the side of the castle depicts a tree bearing fruit. This could be said

to be a fitting metaphor for Howl‘s psyche‘s state of development, for it shows a tree that

has reached maturity, successfully integrated its opposite nature, and produced a harvest.
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CHAPTER VII: CONCLUSION

Howl’s Stages of Transformation

In sum, the film Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) has been approached as if it

subjectively related to, and could be a product of, a single individual‘s psyche. In other

words, it has been interpreted as if it were Howl‘s dream. Thus I considered the charac-

ters in the film as embodiments of aspects of Howl himself. For example, like prior

Jungian researchers who have ascribed the central character of a dream to a ―dream

ego,‖53 I took the character of Howl to represent the ego. I similarly took all of the

characters and motifs of the narrative to depict and describe elements of Howl‘s psyche

and the processes through which it moves.

This film could be said to portray the trials or stages of Howl‘s ego and psyche in

order for him to transition into an adult. Yet because this transition aligns not only with

collective interests but also with inner directives, it goes beyond what Jung described as a

―first half of life‖ transition, instead also including something of the second. Similarly,

the relating and integrating of Howl‘s masculine and feminine elements, of ego coming

into a relationship with the inner, contrasexual other, is also, as described above, a task

normally ascribed to the second half of life (Edinger, 1985, p. 217). Taken together, this

film could be said to describe much of Howl‘s process of individuation, i.e., those deep

developmental changes that relate to one‘s inner and outer journeys towards greater

integration and wholeness.

While the purpose of the previous section was to amplify the symbols and motifs

of the film in an attempt to interpret them psychologically, the purpose of this section is

to consolidate the psychological interpretations as well as to clarify something of what

53
For example, see Hillman‘s Myth of Analysis (1972, p. 183).
 283

value they may hold. In order to assist this analysis, I have broken down Howl‘s process

of individuation into six stages that generally describe his journey of transformation: 1)

fear and suffering; 2) meeting the contrasexual other; 3) confronting the fear; 4) risking it

all; 5) death; and 6) resurrection.

Stage 1: Fear and Suffering

Jung once stated in an unpublished letter that ―the problem of crucifixion is the

beginning of individuation; there is the secret meaning of the Christian symbolism, a path

of blood and suffering—like any other step forward on the road of the evolution of

human consciousness‖ (in Edinger, 1985, p. 177). The evolution of collective human

consciousness is another way of describing individuation, for human beings are separate

individuals, and collective human consciousness must therefore grow—or evolve, if you

will—within individual psyches. Yet for this to occur, individuals must separate from the

collective and leave the safety of the status quo and the socially acceptable. As with

Adam and Eve, growth and change come with consequences. In this film, Howl could

similarly be said to be on a developmental journey towards increased consciousness that

inevitably begins with suffering.

The film opens with Howl, the representation of the ego, in a position of putting

all of his resources, as he phrases it, into ―hiding.‖ He similarly states, on several

occasions, that his main problem is one of fear. Even so, with his flamboyant appearance

and smooth-talking demeanor, he seems anything but afraid. Described psychologically,

this outward personality that is different from his inner experience could be called a

defense mechanism, for its purpose is to hide any feelings of weakness and overwhelm-
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ment and thereby to protect him. This outward mask that Howl wears to meet the world,

and to protect himself from the collective, is, as described above, his persona.

To some extent, all individuals have a persona, but Howl‘s persona is a specific

problem for him, not only because it does not work to protect him from the actual

problem he describes. Even with it in place, Howl still feels deeply afraid. At the

beginning of the film, he could be said to have been caught up in the power that his suave

and powerful persona had over others, for, even though he was being chased himself by

women, he was known to others for doing the chasing and thereby for being powerful.

While being known for going specifically after the hearts of women may suggest a search

for his own heart, or feminine nature, through projection, it is obvious from his dialogue

about the Witch of the Waste that Howl has also abused the power his persona had over

others for both personal gain and distraction.

Like the image of Howl himself, Howl‘s castle could be said to be a symbol of

Howl‘s ego as well, but in its iteration upon the wastes, its façade is not so well crafted

for deception. While Howl could be said to represent his ego with its persona, his castle

could be said to show his ego without it. Thus the castle shows its defense mechanisms

straightforwardly in the form of fortifications, i.e., in its cobbled and riveted assortment

of turrets and armor. It also shows them even more directly through its behavior, for it

literally hides among the clouds in the wastes at the fringes of society, as well as through

its portal, through which it attempts to manage the competing needs of others instead of

taking its own rightful place among them.

What Howl is specifically afraid of is two women. Madame Suliman could be

said to represent a new threat to the psyche. As Woodman (1994) once stated in a lecture
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in which she discussed the relationship between the feminine and the masculine in our

time, ―sometimes women can be even bigger patriarchs than men.‖ In other words,

because we all belong to a patriarchal society, to the extent that we identify with it, it

matters little whether we are biologically male or female. In Madame Suliman one may

witness an example of such a woman, who not only represents collective patriarchal

values that in many ways reflect those of the Western world, but is also one driven by a

concomitant patriarchal greed for power and control. Madame Suliman could thus be

described as a face of the negative mother that denies the feminine through an

overvaluation of, and identification with, the masculine. By usurping the role of the King

and using him as something of a pawn in her own ―game,‖ Madame Suliman could be

said to be the defining image of the patriarch within Howl‘s psyche.

In addition, Madame Suliman poses a new threat, because she has also usurped

the traditional position of the Witch of the Waste. While this personage, at the beginning

of the film, could be said also to represent the negative mother, she not only is after

masculine power but also embodies feminine feeling. Yet she could be called a negative

form of the feminine as well, because she has been made angry by Madame Suliman,

who had thrust her out of the castle and banished her to the unconscious fringes of the

psyche. The Witch of the Waste thus represents a feminine energy that needs to be

redeemed, because her feminine values have been devalued. It could similarly be said

that even the nature to which she has been banished needs to be redeemed, for ―the

wastes‖ is a term of derision, suggesting a separation from, and a disdain for, the natural

world to which all beings owe their existence.

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Just as Howl sought the hearts of young women, the Witch of the Waste was

similarly after his heart. Thus, while it could be said that Madame Suliman wanted

Howl‘s masculine power, or Logos, it could also be said that the Witch of the Waste

wanted the source of his passion and feminine feeling, or Eros. While it could be

assumed that Madame Suliman wanted Howl not only to be her apprentice, but also to be

an extension of herself and to have no personality of his own, just like her other servants,

it could similarly be assumed that what the Witch of the Waste wanted was to capture

Howl‘s masculine power in order to help her regain her rightful place in the royal palace.

Described psychologically, from a Jungian perspective, both of these unconscious

complexes wanted to take over and possess the ego, a condition which, as noted above,

Jung called possession.

While the King should have provided something of a masculine role model for

Howl, it is obvious that he had not developed an adult male personality to match his title.

While Howl, in his disguise as King, showed compassion for his subjects, the King

himself displayed none, instead showing himself to be more like a schoolyard bully.

Howl, therefore, might not have had a sufficient role model through which to learn how

to transition into adult male form.54 Similarly, it could be said that the reason why the

blob men, a representation of an archetypal masculine, are such a threat is that they

represent a masculine psychic energy that is not being used by the King and therefore has

no place in the kingdom. Because the King is not consciously using this energy, it may

have fallen into the unconscious—into his archetypal shadow, if you will—where it is

54
It could be said that one is not able to mentor another person towards a developmental level which one
has not achieved oneself.
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able to be canalized by another aspect of the psyche and to unbalance the psyche in the

process.

Both Suliman‘s and the Witch of the Waste‘s criticism of Howl was that he did

not have a heart. Psychologically, this could be taken to mean that, through finding a

means to protect his heart, he had upset the balance of the psyche. His use of Calcifer to

power his castle, i.e., his capturing and channeling of the psychic energy of what could be

called the child archetype, only escalated the problems he was facing with his two female

antagonists. At the same time, while it could appear as if Howl were running away from

his problems, as he admitted to Sophie, it could equally be stated, through a specifically

Jungian lens, that he used the psychic energy, or libido, represented by Calcifer to hold a

tension of opposites sufficient to require a new psychic solution. This might have given

his unconscious, in the form of the Self, a kind of invitation or opening through which to

constellate his contrasexual other, i.e., Sophie.

While Howl‘s fear and suffering were conscious, Sophie‘s could be said to be

unconscious. As one might expect of a representation of a psychic factor that came from,

and was even provided by, the unconscious through a product of what Jung called

compensation, Sophie had to wake up from a dreamy state, in which she could be said to

suffer unconsciously from a father complex that was focused on highlighting women‘s

outer appearances in relation to collective standards, as symbolized by fashionable hats.

While Sophie was conscious of the value her father put on his hat shop, the shadow of

this consciousness was that she concomitantly experienced an unconscious crippling

judgment of herself, not only as unattractive, but also as unworthy of appreciation and

love.
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The spell that Sophie received from the Witch of the Waste could be said to have

given her the potential to discover the nature of her psychological problem. By turning

her into a ninety-year-old woman, the spell may have made her problem of low self-

esteem visible, thereby giving her a potential of becoming conscious of it. Consciousness

could be called a precondition for psychological change, for it may well be that indivi-

duals must consciously suffer a psychological problem in order to transform it. Even so,

becoming conscious of such a problem can also risk enabling one to identify with it

further, as Sophie also, and unfortunately, did. While the additional problem of her

appearance as an old woman had the advantage of propelling her out of her father‘s house

and allowing her to discover psychic energy that had been theretofore unconscious, it also

turned it into a larger problem to be overcome.

The suffering of the psyche was also represented in the war about to begin

between two kingdoms, one known or knowable, i.e., which in the psyche relates to the

ego and the personal unconscious, and one unknown, i.e., the collective, and archetypal,

unconscious. The parades of soldiers and war machines, specifically in a World War

setting, could therefore be said to foreshadow a global conflict about to erupt in Howl‘s

psyche between what is conscious or potentially conscious, and the unconscious. They

could also be said to foreshadow the escalation of the battle between Howl and the two

women, i.e., the ego and the two representatives of the personal unconscious, or a dual

image of his negative mother complex.

Stage 2: Meeting the Contrasexual Other

The mother complex and the father complex, as described above, are not always

negative. Because both are the internalized experiences of parenting combined with the
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archetypal instructions of masculine and feminine that are part and parcel of being

human, they are developmentally necessary preconditions for psychological growth,

especially during childhood. From ―good enough‖55 mothering and fathering, individuals

receive nurturing and support; it is through these experiences that we may be able to learn

how to navigate through developmental stages and to transition into age-appropriate

roles. In their negative forms, however, they can be crippling and even traumatizing.

Viewed psychologically, Sophie and Howl could be said to have provided each other

with alternative examples of the archetypally feminine and masculine, one that was

related and supportive where the other was not.

Suffering a mother complex, Howl developed a persona that was capable of

standing up to it, but in so doing he also developed a power that was able to influence and

use unconscious feminine aspects of the psyche, just as the mother complex could use

unconscious masculine aspects. But this power ran only as deep as his wizard persona.

Howl needed to lose his identification with his outer appearance, and to realize there was

something more within himself that was worthy of value. He needed to find someone

who not only carried the projection of his positive feminine values, but who also

embodied them. Through this meeting, he was able to realize that he actually had the

capacity for true feeling beyond lust or power, which were all that he had previously

known.

Howl‘s persona could be said to have been a defense mechanism created in order

to help him manage the outer world, one specifically designed to mitigate the twin threats

of lust and power as represented by the Witch of the Waste and Madame Suliman. But

given how much Howl used this persona, he was identified with it, and therefore able to
55
See Winnicott, 2002, p. 234.
 290

consciously recognize only those two sides of himself. He had to find a way to remove

his persona, or indeed, as it happened in this film, to have it stripped away from him by

Sophie, in order to be able to discover who he was without it.

Unconsciously suffering from a debilitating father complex, Sophie was concomi-

tantly not able to see anything of value in herself. By her consciously identifying with the

positive father, the negative father fell into shadow; although the inner experience of a

positive masculine father should have engendered a sense of support, in her case she

internally experienced only self-judgment and self-denial. Meeting Howl could be said to

have given her a new form of the masculine to which to relate outside of herself. In so

doing, she was given the opportunity to begin to live her own feminine, or Eros, nature

more fully. And by attempting to help him with his problem, she also was given a chance

to begin to discover something of her own masculine nature.

Thus seen through a Jungian lens, Howl and Sophie, the ego and the contrasexual

other, through meeting each other, could be said to have been going through a necessary

stage to allow individual development and an increase in consciousness to occur. Because

Howl, the ego, consciously suffered a mother complex, and Sophie, the contrasexual

other, unconsciously suffered a father complex, their meeting allowed them both a chance

to discover and integrate the positive feminine and masculine aspects of their own

natures, thereby allowing their psyches to come into new balance.

Their initial meeting took place when Sophie could be said to have needed it

most. Because of her father complex and her resulting unawareness and depreciation of

her own physical attractiveness, she had walked, as the saying goes, ―off the beaten

track,‖ making easy prey for the flirtatious soldiers. That they did not heed her firm
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request to leave her alone, and that it occurred in a little used alleyway, both indicated

that she was in potential danger, which may have been what unconsciously triggered

Howl‘s internal masculine side to protect her. At the same time, because Howl was being

followed by the masculine minions of his mother complex, the meeting also came when

Howl needed it most as well. Both were thus introduced to something of each other‘s

problem.

That both Howl and Sophie, when they met, were experiencing difficulties that

symbolically reflected their own psychological problems could also suggest that the

meeting was not by chance. Rather, it could be said to have been constellated by the self-

regulating function of a psyche working to mitigate threats and encourage growth. While

the concept of self-regulation is usually used to describe the constellation of unconscious

factors to assist the ego, there is no reason to assume that the Self, the archetype of

wholeness within, is any less involved than the ego with the needs of the unconscious

contrasexual other. Indeed, from the perspective of the Self, whose only goal is to

balance and heal the psyche of which it is a part, to the extent that Howl and Sophie are

equally out of balance, both could even be said to compensate for, and thus to require the

constellation of, each other.

Through his ability to leap high into the air, thereby separating Sophie from her

problem, Howl shows Sophie a masculine capable of protecting feminine values. At the

same time, Sophie may have given Howl the specific opportunity through which to learn

for himself that he is capable of playing such a role, and in so doing, to realize that it

might suit him better than the ones he had previously been carrying out.
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Stage 3: Confronting the Fear

Howl is in great danger and knows it. That could be said to cause the debilitating

fear that he expresses to Sophie. At the same time, this danger is only increasing. By

starting a World War, a war that could be said to engage the entire psyche, Madame

Suliman, the power-driven Logos side of the mother complex, could have created a

situation to which Howl, the ego, would be forced to respond.

Sophie recognizes the need to confront the King, the ruling principle of the

psyche, but is, as with her own father complex, naïve about the negative side of the

masculine and the danger threatened by the patriarchal system and Madame Suliman.

Howl knows the danger better, but is thereby paralyzed by fear. He may need Sophie‘s

feminine instinct to confront the situation directly, while Sophie may need Howl‘s

masculine one for back up when she comes into danger. It is as if they are enacting the

same experience that occurred when the soldiers threatened Sophie, but this time in

relation to Howl‘s problem instead. That Howl suggested this scheme is indicative of an

ego that is beginning consciously to recognize that this newfound supportive and

protective role may be beneficial to his problem through motivating him to face it

directly.

For Howl to respond in a new way implies that his old role must change.

Psychologically, this means that the mask he wears, his persona, will need to be

discarded. While Sophie may not consciously recognize this need, she does witness the

unkempt and moldering state of Howl‘s castle, which could be said to be another

representation of Howl‘s ego in the film. The role she took on in the castle was to clean it

up, but in so doing she also unconsciously removed an aspect of Howl‘s persona with
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which he identified, the potion responsible for his hair color. He held this color as a sign

of beauty and also likely one of power, but, because it was the same hair color as that of

all of Madame Suliman‘s pages, it could also be seen as an internalized, and therefore

unconscious, aspect of the power-driven mother complex from which he never con-

sciously separated. Thus it may be that Sophie did not recognize his hair potion because it

did not fit his true self.

Howl‘s reaction to the loss, because it was not by his own conscious choice, was

to mourn and suffer it, even if he was only capable of, as Sophie put it, experiencing it in

―a tantrum‖ like a child. This brought up Sophie‘s feelings as well, for she too suffered

due to her own negative judgment about her own appearance; yet unlike Howl she was

capable of releasing her own pain through her tears. Thus, in this narrative, it could be

said that suffering something of their own negative self-judgment was somehow

necessary before they could confront Howl‘s fear. It may be that they had to become

aware of something of the parental complexes they carried, and that Howl had to

specifically divest himself of an unconscious identity with it in the form of his persona.

That Howl, the ego, needed to appear only ―when summoned‖ by Madame

Suliman in the name of the King, i.e., the ruling principle of the psyche, suggests that he

needed only to confront his fear and stand up for his own principles. In so doing he met

the declaration of the ruling principle with a declaration of his own: that he refused to

take part in their war. Thus, by making such a declaration of independence, he estab-

lished a new relationship between the ego and the old, outmoded order in the psyche that

had brought it out of balance. At the same time, this act drew the attention of Madame

Suliman, and the forces of the palace she controlled, directly to him and Sophie. By
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saying that he would not fight in their war, he increased the tension of opposites yet

again, creating a greater need for a new, and transcendent, psychic solution.

Stage 4: Risking it All

In this stage, Howl, the ego, recognized verbally, and thus consciously, that he

had something that he wanted to protect in Sophie, the representation of the psyche‘s

feminine values. In order to do so, he realized that he would risk everything, even his

own life. He thus chose a Kierkegardian leap of faith towards wholeness in a relationship

with his contrasexual other, rather than one of unconscious regression to the source, the

mother, even though he was unconsciously drawn to do the latter as shown in the dream

sequence in the cave, i.e., a symbolic analogy of the mother.

This fourth stage in Howl‘s process was shown to have many twists and turns. It

included the additions of new members of the psychic ―family,‖ which, as described

above, I take to be—as Ulanov (1972) put it—Howl‘s own ―unique constellation of

archetypal mythologems‖ (p. 57). One of these new additions required redeeming aspects

of the feminine and masculine instinct in the form of the Witch of the Waste and the dog

Heen. Both could be said to have brought a modicum of embodied wisdom, one feminine

and the other masculine, to the conscious psyche. Howl made room for these additions by

remodeling his castle, in so doing also consciously improving the castle‘s condition.

Indeed, it could be said that these additions and changes reflected Howl‘s enlarged,

strengthened, and further developed ego.

Yet the most important change could be said to be his invitation to Sophie to enter

into his ―secret garden.‖ In so doing, he invited his contrasexual other to the natural, vital,

and most vulnerable center of his true self. Yet he also risked everything by opening a
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new portal for his own feminine nature to come into his own life, and into his relation-

ships. It is not a coincidence that this came about only after his direct confrontation with

Madame Suliman, wherein he declared his own independence, for he had to sever his ties

to her before he could make any new ones with somebody else. Heen too could be said to

symbolically model this stage in Howl‘s development, when he similarly risked every-

thing to jump into Sophie‘s arms as she fell into the chasm below.

Stage 5: Death

As van Gannep suggested above, this stage can be considered something of a

―death phase,‖ for it describes a symbolic death for the ego, one that is necessary if one is

to let go of old ways of being and behaving that are out of balance with future growth and

development. To the extent that this growth is towards an adult, collective role, then it

may well be that the ego must let go of childhood dependence; moreover, to the extent

that it leans towards a deeper alignment with its own psyche, it must similarly let go of

identities that support or reflect collective roles. In this film, Howl is called to do both.

Howl‘s death phase is symbolically described in the gradual falling apart, and the

ultimate collapse, of his castle. It is also shown in his own bodily deterioration. The

collapse of his ego enacts a kind of healing, as it causes his identification with his bird

monster self to fall away completely. Yet it also subjects the ego to total vulnerability.

Thus, while what is left of the castle slides towards the abyss, Howl is completely reliant

upon the others to protect and save him, a condition which may have encouraged Turnip

Head to step in to try. It may also have created an opening through which Sophie could

similarly step into her own masculine side in order to attempt to save Howl, thereby

protecting her own feminine values in the form of his wounded body.
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Thus it could be said that, in this stage Sophie was, like Howl, similarly called to

take a leap of faith; she did so by stepping into liminal space in order to find him. By

walking through the archetypal void, a realm in which she could move across time and

space, she learned the secret nature of his problem in Howl‘s childhood: that Howl had

somehow given his heart to Calcifer, trapping Calcifer in the process. In so doing, she

learned how to solve his problem.

For the return of Howl‘s heart to come about, Sophie specifically prayed for Howl

and Calcifer to live. Psychologically, she could thereby be said to have made a direct

petition to the Self, to allow Howl to return to wholeness. Not only is the Self the

archetype of wholeness, but it could also be called the archetype of life. In placing the

heart into Howl‘s chest, Sophie may have played a role not only as bridge to the Self, but

even as an agent of the Self, and thereby an agent of life itself.

Stage 6: Resurrection

Howl‘s resurrection, the ego‘s new life, comes about because Howl‘s heart has

been returned to his chest, i.e., because the full connection of the ego and its feminine

feeling function, or Eros, has been restored. Calcifer had left initially also, taking with

him the psychic energy he represented and the protection he also brought, forcing Howl

to survive in the same vulnerable condition that defines the human condition. While

Howl is no longer a wizard who wields significant power, as is shown by his wearing

regular civilian clothes at the end, he could be said to be more united and whole with his

heart restored, an ego that plays a role within a constellation of archetypes, as it were,

rather than one of total control.

 297

Howl‘s resurrection is also depicted in the changes to his castle, his new ego. It

has not only been rebuilt, but it has completely changed. With the return of Calcifer, it

could be said that new psychic energy came back and enabled the ego to rebuild its

structure. Its shutters, windows, and even the room with the hearth are not as guarded as

they were before, but are instead laid open to the outside. In other words, his new ego is

not as focused on self-protection, having instead been redesigned for the conscious

inclusion of his new family, i.e., for his specific, individual collection of complexes and

archetypal factors. The ego also has made room for nature through the addition of a

garden and trees. This not only describes the instinctive part of the psyche, but could be

said to capture where the psyche and matter meet, the part of the psyche Jung (1969d),

following Bleuler, called ―psychoid‖ (p. 176).

The flag of a tree bearing fruit is an apt symbol of the ego‘s move into maturity. It

is also symbolic of the end of a process. While the castle before could walk on its bird

legs, after being resurrected it could fly. This is a positive symbol of a final stage of

psychological growth and development, for it specifically depicts a bird that has fully

fledged. But perhaps the most apt symbol of the ego‘s new development is in its new

relationship with its contrasexual other. Howl and Sophie are shown riding away above

the castle, side by side as equals, in an embrace. This is an image of the contrasexual

couple in a divine union, depicted half way between heaven and earth, in what could be

called the ―special form of coniunctio‖ that is termed a ―sacred marriage‖ (Samuels,

Shorter, & Plaut, 1986, p. 14).

The film thus ends with the ego in a different position from in the beginning. It

could be said to reflect the conscious part of the psyche along with its inner, contrasexual
 298

counterpart in a new and dynamic balance. Yet because the ego contains the other

elements in the form of archetypes and even nature, the two of them could be said to lead,

and the image to describe, the entire psyche. The compensatory relationship between the

contrasexual couple may have developed into a conscious wholeness and fruition, as

symbolized by the flag of the single tree bearing fruit. From Sophie‘s perspective, Howl

could be called a bridge to the Self every bit as much as, from Howl‘s perspective,

Sophie plays that same role. Through the relationship, and through the perspective gained

by the contrasexual other, both ego and anima could be said to have grown and changed,

as they have been brought into balance not only with each other but also with the Self.56

I, therefore, take the film‘s conclusion to be an ideal image of the process of

individuation being complete, with both feminine and masculine figures coming together

much as they do in alchemical symbolism depicting a king and queen becoming united.57

The image of the round sphere of the castle in flight, the embracing contrasexual couple,

the integrated family, and the inclusion of nature, can all be considered symbols of

wholeness. Together they could be said to suggest something of the psychic ecosystem

that inhabits us all.

56
Indeed, calling only one of these factors a bridge to the other, as Jung himself has done in relation to the
anima, above, might suggest that one part of the psyche is somehow more important than another; that
would be counter to Jung‘s own theory of a psyche made up of equal and balanced opposites (Jung, 1969d,
pp. 32-33).
57
For example, in the tenth image of the Rosarium Philosophorum (in Edinger, 1984).
 299

Figure 43: Howl‘s castle in flight (Suzuki & Miyazaki, 2004).

The Role of the Feminine in our Time

Just as Hollis, above, described our time as one that has lost much of the male

guidance and instructions that used to help boys transition into men, Woodman (1982)

stated that ―in our society … we have no rites and there are few older women who can

initiate us into our own femininity‖ (p. 122). Yet Woodman suggested that not only

women need this initiation, but men as well. She stated that ―most of us, men and women,

are unconsciously identified with the masculine principle (the conscious value system of

our mothers), with little or no consciousness of our feminine instincts‖ (p. 122). In other

words, she suggested that most of us are caught in an identification with the masculine

that keeps us in adolescence. In the Western world, many of us are thereby trapped, both

women and men, in a society that not only is patriarchal, but, as Jung suggested above,

has been arrested in development at the age of six.

 300

By stating that this society is like a boy holding dynamite, Jung made our problem

even more clear, for it paints the Western culture to which most of us belong, and,

therefore, our inner culture, if we are unable to transition into an adult individual and

consciously separate from it, as one that is a danger to its own existence. Since Jung‘s

day, humanity is still, even increasingly, holding the tools of its own destruction, having

still not found a way out of its predicament. While Jung suggested that another way to

solve this problem is within each of us through seeking our own ―myth,‖ Woodman‘s

quotation above reminds us that, like this psychological reading of Howl‟s Moving Castle

(2004), our true conflict is not without but within. Woodman defined the problem as one

of identification with the masculine and a lack of consciousness of the feminine. Some-

how, many of us in the Western World, and increasingly those in the rest of the world,

may have come to reject our own feminine values in order to support and pursue our

masculine ones. In so doing, we have also somehow become separated from our own

feminine feelings and instincts, lacking the feminine consciousness necessary to regain

our balance.

As Jung described the solution to this inner problem, ―It is the function of Eros to

unite what Logos had sundered. The woman of today is faced with a tremendous cultural

task—perhaps it will be the dawn of a new era‖ (Jung, 1970a, p. 133). This quote would

fit our film, Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004), far better if Jung had used the term ―anima‖ or

―the feminine psyche,‖ instead of ―woman.‖ It would, thereby, point towards the Eros

nature within each of us, thereby better representing his theory by taking the problem off

the shoulders of women and handing it to us all. In considering Sophie to embody the

feminine side of the psyche, a psychological reading of the film could be said to highlight
 301

the function of Eros. At the beginning of this film, Howl‘s problem of fearfully

separating his castle from the rest of the kingdom could be seen as a sundering by an

unrelated Logos, or a masculine consciousness. It was Sophie who responded to this, her

solution being literally depicted as a new ―dawn‖ and even something of a ―new era.‖

Tacey (1997) goes one step further by stating that it is a role of the feminine not

only to unite, but to initiate. He wrote:

In much popular discourse, it is believed that only the father or his surro-
gates are capable of ―initiating‖ the son into activity and self discovery.
The feminine is viewed as clutching, regressive, static—which is only to
say it is viewed through the distorted lens of the mother complex. There is
much more to the feminine than the mother, and there is much more to the
―mother,‖ too, as soon as the son is mature enough to see and experience it
(pp. 77-78).

This suggests that, for growth to occur, each of us must be mature enough to see beyond

our own mother complex, as well as beyond what could be called the collective mother

complex of our developmentally challenged Western culture, in order to recognize the

potential role of the feminine in our own psychological development. It also goes a long

way to explain why Howl needed not only to accept and follow the lead of Sophie, but to

also to support her redemption of, and to begin a new relationship with, the Witch of the

Waste. In Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004) Sophie does not provide an image of a

―clutching, regressive, static‖ feminine, but a feminine that is dynamic and initiates

growth and change, while at the same time holding fast to, and uniting, all that is most

important.

Thus Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004), seen though a psychological lens, could be

called something of a myth for our time that describes the healing of a single psyche,

through the feminine rising to a developmental challenge faced by the masculine. It can
 302

concomitantly be called one in which the feminine also is supported to develop by the

masculine, and therefore one that describes a redemption of the feminine. Together,

through their selfless response to the needs of the other, both provide an image of the

compensatory, self-regulating function of the psyche returning itself to psychic balance

and wholeness. Both also show the teleological, or growth-oriented, aspect of a psyche

that is achieving a wholeness accompanied by a greater level of consciousness.

By concluding with a feminine consciousness taking its rightful place beside a

masculine one, it shows a very different outcome than many historical myths that portray

the feminine being killed or appeased. For example, in the ancient Greek myth of

Perseus, it could be said that the hero, the masculine principle, severed the head of the

devouring mother, a negative feminine principle. In the myth of Eros and Psyche, it could

be said that the feminine principle made amends to a terrible mother, thereby reifying an

old system rather than implementing a new one. We can assume that both of these myths

were culturally necessary and valuable at the time they were written, but In Howl‟s

Moving Castle (2004) no heads are severed and no regressive allegiance is reinstated. It

could be said, instead, to depict a masculine and a feminine that have found a new way to

help each other and grow, and together to establish a new, and conscious, dynamic

balance within the psyche. In so doing, it shows a psyche that has found a means to heal

and balance both ego-consciousness and the unconscious, thereby representing a relevant

solution to a contemporary problem in our own time.

Put simply, if considered psychologically as the masculine and feminine aspects

of one psyche, Howl and Sophie can be seen as parts of a psyche that is in the process of

growing more whole through becoming more equal, interrelated, and balanced with
 303

regard to its inner opposites. While this image of healing would be a benefit to any time

period, it could be said to be particularly valuable in our own, in which the dynamite

being held is becoming ever more powerful. Even though the world wars of Jung‘s days

have not been repeated in the fifty years since his death, the world is still rife with

conflict and there is still far too little that offers hope for world peace. Part of the reason

for this may be that, since we have exported something of our Western patriarchal

cultural tradition worldwide, it could be said that this has encouraged a global decline of

matriarchal consciousness.

In any case, Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004), if read psychologically and through a

Jungian lens, could potentially be seen as a something of a valuable, compensatory image

to help individuals come to identify, value, and even work towards a healing of the

feminine in themselves. In so doing, it could bring to both our inner and outer develop-

mental problems a much-needed Eros, which may well be particularly valuable today. As

Tacey has said, ―The ego that continually slays archetypes has become the neurotic or

even psychotic ego of our time: it goes on a violent rampage, but then it wonders why it

has become so lonely and bereft. Unless we stop killing the monsters of the deep, and the

beasts of the forest, we will not have a world left to inhabit, either internally in the soul or

externally in nature‖ (p. 71).

In a talk she gave in 1994, Woodman may have foreshadowed this conclusion

when she stated that ―in both men and women there are two energies, masculine and

feminine, and that our work is to bring these two energies into balance … so the two

snakes continually relate, separate, again relate, and so on.‖ In the same talk she said that
 304

the task of individuation is simply to ―keep relating to the feminine, and to have the

masculinity to stand up for it.‖

Similarly, in her final lecture, Marie-Louise von Franz described how Jung

himself came to place Eros as a central requirement for the healing of individuals and the

societies in which we live:

[Jung] showed that individuation is not possible without the differentiation of

Eros. Perhaps Jung will be remembered as a knight who restored to the
community the feminine principle of Love, or Eros, as symbolized by the Holy
Grail or by the homo putissimus of alchemy, a whole-making, healing Eros,
through which even the opposites of the collective versus the individual may be
reconciled58 (2008, p. 18).

While it is likely that Jung has not yet been so remembered, one may hope that, with

more films like Howl‟s Moving Castle (2004), and with more examples of individuals

like Howl who are prepared to risk everything to be reunited with their own hearts and to

forge an equal relationship with their own feminine principle, no matter the cost, the

same goal may be reached by more individuals. To the extent that it is, it may even have

the potential to help foster a cultural development in which we all learn to put down our

―dynamite‖ and similarly find a way to make room for ourselves, everyone else, and all

of nature in this one flying globe we all call home.

58
Homo putissimus refers to what Jung (1968) called the ―bloody sweat‖ of the philosopher‘s stone (p.
295), which he described as a ―redeeming blood … a psychic substance, the manifestation of a certain kind
of Eros which unifies the individual as well as the multitude in the sign of the rose and makes them whole‖
(p. 296).
 305

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