Summary
Studio Ghibli has earned worldwide acclaim for animated films that tackle deep,complex themes while showcasingflawless scores and lavish visuals under the direction of Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata. With Oscar-worthy animation, the films claimed prestigious awards and became a pop-culture landmark.
Although celebrated, the studio’s most underrated works never drew audiences the way classics likeHowl’s Moving CastleorSpirited Awaydid. Yet these overlooked titles spring from the same gifted hands and preserve the cinematic gold now hard to find, thanks to grand detail and gentle music that speaks to viewers.
Overshadowed by more ambitious works,The Cat Returnsranks amongthe most underrated Studio Ghibli films. Its richly detailed world and engaging characters transform this contemporary fairy tale into one of cinema’s most outstanding animated treasures, and the brisk yet heartfelt narrative even brings back a beloved figure fromWhisper of the Heart, adding a welcome thread of continuity that rewards attentive viewers.
The plot follows Haru, whose simple act of saving a cat from an accident upends her routine when the animal reveals himself as a prince and spirits her away to his kingdom with plans to marry her. Through this adventure she undertakes a journey of self-discovery and empowerment, accompanied by a sparkling score and eye-catching visuals that celebrate imagination while underscoring the film’s gentle humor and emotional nuance.
With Miyazaki absent from the project,When Marnie Was Therestands as one of the most overlooked Studio Ghibli films. Its narrative follows Anna, a lonely and inquisitive girl who explores an abandoned manor until she meets an enigmatic blonde child visible only to her, and the contrast between Anna’s reserved nature and the typical Ghibli heroine’s boldness immediately distinguishes the film’s tone and emotional stakes.
Anna and Marnie’s bond makes the story complex, because audiences still debate whether their relationship carries a friendly or romantic charge. The film also blends fantasy and reality with quiet subtlety, once again demanding close attention to interpret shifting perspectives, and that delicate balance yields a singular experience for viewers willing to embrace its mystery and lingering emotional resonance.
The feature stands out through vivid, painstakingly detailed visuals in every frame, complemented by a score that fuses jazz with traditional Japanese music. It also explores realistic, thought-provoking themes, steering away from the studio’s myth-laden fantasies and favoring a grounded portrayal of adolescence, community, and the lingering effects of national recovery, thereby expanding the creative range normally associated with the company’s catalog.
Led by appealing protagonists, Umi and Shun unite to save an old clubhouse from demolition, and the campaign for preservation provides the dramatic spine. Through that conflictthey confront complicated personal historiesand evolving feelings for one another, so their internal growth mirrors the building’s threatened legacy, securing the film’s place as an unjustly neglected chapter of Studio Ghibli storytelling.
Its mature narrative distances some viewers from the studio’s classic fantasies, asPorco Rossosimultaneously tackles two conflicts that reference Italian fascism and the war’s human cost. This political subtext may deter a traditional audience, yet the film dazzles with striking visuals and an impeccable score, embedding its commentary within aerial dogfights, seaplane hijinks, and the rueful charm of its porcine hero.
What makes the piece exceptional is Miyazaki’s poetic love of aviation reflected in the protagonist and mirrored by the sharp intellect of the strong female engineer Fio, who proves every bit his equal. Consequently,Porco Rossocontemplates lost times and the passing of youth, offering a deeply personal meditation from the mind behind Studio Ghibli that deserves far wider recognition.
Because it lacks fantastical elements,Whisper of the Heartranks among the most underrated Studio Ghibli films. Oftenignored in popular Miyazaki lists, the film delves into substantial themes such as personal growth, first love, and family conflict, and its spirited, creative protagonist captures the restless energy of an artistic youth searching for purpose while grappling with expectations and inevitable self-doubt on the path to adulthood.
The iconic scene in which “Take Me Home, Country Roads” is performed connects the film and audience on an emotional and artistic level, reflecting both the protagonist’s feelings and the viewer’s own aspirations. That shared moment anchors one of cinema’s most memorable animated sequences, proving that an inspiring story without mythical trappings can still achieve lasting resonance and fully merits broader appreciation.
With its restrained, slice-of-life approach, this television feature is remembered by few and often goes unnoticed within the broader catalogue ofStudio Ghibli, particularly by viewers who expect magical spectacle. Created by a cohort of younger staff members, it excels at depicting everyday school routines with remarkable insight and sincerity despite tight budgets, limited time, and the production conflicts that repeatedly threatened to derail its development.
The narrative follows Taku, who, alongside his best friend Yutaka, becomes enamored with the new transfer student Rikako, igniting the emotional friction that powers the entire plot. Through the tensions surrounding the girl, the friends confront unresolved issues, mature in unexpected ways, anddiscover forms of affection that extend beyondthe expected central couple, ensuring the film remains a quiet yet resonant gem.
As thestudio’s first digitally animated work,My Neighbors the Yamadasstands as one of Miyazaki’s most overlooked releases, despite its technical innovation, groundbreaking pipeline, and departure from cel animation. With minimalist watercolor visuals, its simple style unsettles viewers accustomed to the studio’s lavish palette, and the narrative remains grounded in one contemporary family instead of venturing into fantastical realms, magical creatures, or heroic confrontations, highlighting ordinary joys and frustrations.
Both its humor and its vignettes draw on typical Japanese households, which can distance audiences unfamiliar with the culture or common domestic conflicts, and the pace relies on understated punchlines rather than broad gags. Even so, the film addresses universal themes such as marriage, generational bonds, and aging, winning empathy from viewers who embrace its distinctive look and masterful observation of everyday life.
The Tale of the Princess Kaguyaranks among the medium’s most delicate and affecting productions, yet it remains one of the studio’s underrated jewels. The narrative follows a tiny girl who rapidly matures into a captivating young woman while her true destiny stays veiled in mystery, inviting contemplation on freedom, duty, and transient joy.
Its distinctive brushstroke animation pushed budgets so high that, at release, the feature was among the most expensive animated pictures ever produced in Japan. The investment was not recouped at the box office, and its absence from the studio’s mainstream lineup left the film known more as a work of art cinema than a family staple, even among longtime fans.
Veering away from linear or child-centered storytelling,Pom Pokoearns its status as an overlooked studio release by addressing serious themes with daring tonal shifts. Balancing comedy, social commentary, and moments of stark drama, the narrative follows shape-shifting tanuki as they resist urban sprawl, exploring escalating habitat destruction with unflinching honesty and reminding audiences of their role in ecological crises.
Its bittersweet finale secures the film’s beauty, as the tanuki cannot stop the destruction of their home, leaving characters and viewers in shared melancholy. Thework therefore innovates through a matureand courageous treatment of a topic that remains urgent, proving animation can engage deeply with environmental ethics and prompting reflection on consumption patterns in contemporary society around the globe.
Exploring the transition between childhood and adult life,Only Yesterdaystands as the studio’s most overlooked feature, despite its critical acclaim in Japan. Dispensing with high-stakes fantasy, the film adopts an intimate tone, following Taeko, a twenty-seven-year-old office worker who retreats to the countryside and, through sensory memories, re-examines classroom crushes, family expectations, and formative disappointments, crafting a quietly resonant atmosphere.
Addressing complex topics such as personal identity, female autonomy, and social expectations, the narrative remains relevant thanks to its nuanced writing and honest relationships, while foregrounding everyday pleasures like harvest rituals and shared meals. The feature suffered from a delayed North American release, leading to limited awareness among Western audiences and cementing its status as one of the studio’s most underappreciated works.
