Some movies are “good.” Some movies are “great.” And some movies make you pause mid-chew, stare at the screen,
and silently apologize to every animated film you ever underestimated. Princess Mononoke is very much that third kind.
It’s an epic, thorny, frequently gorgeous (and occasionally “did that boar just…?”) story that refuses to pick a simple side.
Nature isn’t a flawless angel. Humans aren’t cartoon villains. Everybody’s hurt, everybody’s trying, and the forest is not taking calls.
This is a rankings-and-opinions piece, so we’re doing what the internet was invented for: organizing feelings into categories.
But the point isn’t to “prove” a single correct take. It’s to explain why this film keeps landing near the top of best-anime,
best-animated, and best-Ghibli conversationsand why a small but vocal group still says, “I admire it… but I don’t love it.”
Quick Snapshot: What You’re Watching (Without Major Spoilers)
Set during Japan’s Muromachi era, the film follows Ashitaka, a young warrior marked by a curse after a brutal encounter with a corrupted boar god.
Seeking a cure, he travels west and walks straight into a conflict between Irontowna gritty, expanding industrial settlement
and the forest, where animal gods and spirits are fighting to keep their world alive.
At the center is San (often called “Princess Mononoke”), a human raised by wolves, who has zero interest in compromise and even less interest
in anyone building factories on her home. Between Ashitaka’s calm diplomacy and San’s feral intensity, the story becomes a pressure cooker
about progress, survival, and what happens when “winning” means somebody else can’t breathe.
The Scoreboard: Why It Ranks So High in the First Place
Before we get subjective, it helps to know that Princess Mononoke isn’t just beloved in fan circlesit has serious critical weight.
Aggregates aren’t destiny, but they are a useful clue: this movie has been collecting praise for decades, and re-releases keep bringing new viewers
into the fold.
| Metric | What It Suggests |
|---|---|
| Critics consensus | Frequently described as landmark-level animation with an epic story and breathtaking visuals. |
| Audience response | Large, sustained love across generationsespecially among people who like their fantasy with teeth. |
| Longevity | Re-releases and renewed big-screen interest keep the film culturally “present,” not just historically respected. |
It also helps that Princess Mononoke is not a “background movie.” You don’t half-watch it while folding laundry unless you enjoy
re-folding the same shirt three times because you keep looking up to gasp at the art.
My Ranking Framework
Rankings get messy when they’re just vibes. So here’s the rubric I’m usingseven categories that reflect how people actually argue about this film
at 1:00 a.m. online:
- Story & pacing (cohesion, clarity, momentum)
- Characters (depth, moral complexity, emotional pull)
- Worldbuilding (setting, lore, lived-in detail)
- Visual craft (animation, composition, design, action readability)
- Soundtrack & sound (score, atmosphere, emotional timing)
- Themes (ideas, relevance, nuance vs. preaching)
- Rewatch value (what grows, what drags, what hits harder later)
Princess Mononoke Rankings by Category
1) Visual Craft: 10/10 (The “How Is This Even Real?” Award)
The animation and art direction are the most immediate reason this film ranks so high. The forests feel ancient and wet and breathing.
Irontown feels functional, smoky, and harshly human. The creature design is bold without becoming random: the animal gods look mythic,
but still heavy and physical, like they could crush a house by accident just by turning around too fast.
And the action is readablea huge deal. You always understand where bodies are in space, what’s moving, and why it matters.
The violence is not “cool” in a slick way; it’s shocking, fast, and consequential. It’s one of the clearest signs that the film is aimed
at older viewers, even though it’s animated.
2) Themes: 10/10 (The “Nobody Gets to Be Pure” Principle)
If you want a simple moral like “protect nature” or “progress is bad,” this movie will politely take that moral, crumple it into a ball,
and toss it into the nearest furnace. The film’s real theme is harder: conflict happens when needs collide.
Humans need iron, safety, and stability. The forest needs space, respect, and time to heal. And neither side is represented as a single,
tidy stereotype.
The brilliance is that the film doesn’t use nuance as an excuse to shrug. It still shows what greed, fear, and escalation do to a world.
It just refuses to turn that truth into a cartoon lesson with a villain twirling a mustache.
3) Characters: 9.5/10 (Iconic, Messy, and Weirdly Mature)
Ashitaka is a rare protagonist: strong but not domineering, brave but not reckless, compassionate without being naïve.
He’s a mediator in a story that doesn’t reward mediation easilywhich is exactly why he’s compelling.
San is fury with a pulse. She’s not “cool” in a mascot way; she’s unsettling, devoted, traumatized, and intensely alive.
Her identity is torn between species, loyalties, and a world that keeps insisting she must choose one.
And then there’s Lady Eboshione of the most debated characters in animation. She’s an industrial leader, yes,
but also a protector of people society discards. The film doesn’t excuse her damage, but it also doesn’t flatten her into evil.
That tension is the character’s entire point: progress can be both salvation and catastrophe, depending on who’s speaking.
4) Soundtrack & Sound: 9/10 (Music That Feels Like Weather)
Joe Hisaishi’s score doesn’t just “decorate” scenes; it creates emotional climate. Some tracks feel like wind through trees.
Others feel like history grinding forward. The music helps the film stay majestic even when the narrative turns brutal.
Also: the sound design sells scale. Hooves, steel, breath, the eerie quiet before violenceeverything feels physical.
It’s not loud for the sake of loud. It’s loud when the world is breaking.
5) Worldbuilding: 9/10 (A Myth That Feels Like a Place)
This world has rules, but it doesn’t stop to lecture you about them. You learn by watching: how Irontown functions,
what the forest spirits imply about belief, why the animal gods behave like wounded nobility. Even the smallest details
(work routines, weapons, clothing, the way people move through space) contribute to a sense that this is a real place with a real past.
6) Story & Pacing: 8.5/10 (Epic… and Proud of It)
Here’s where opinions split. The story is huge, and it moves with the confidence of a film that knows you’ll keep up.
But “huge” can also mean “dense.” If you prefer tight, compact narratives, parts of this film may feel like hiking with a backpack
full of philosophy books.
The counterpoint is that the pacing is intentional: it gives the world room to breathe, and it treats moral conflict as something you
sit with, not something you speedrun.
7) Rewatch Value: 9/10 (Gets Better as You Get Older)
First watch: you’re stunned by the visuals and the ferocity. Second watch: you notice how carefully the film balances sympathy.
Third watch: you realize the film’s “message” isn’t a messageit’s a question, and it keeps changing as your own life changes.
The only reason it’s not a perfect 10 for rewatch is that the sheer intensity can be emotionally expensive.
This is not always a “comfort” rewatch. It’s more like a “reset your brain” rewatch.
Top Moments That Explain the Hype
Without turning this into a spoiler checklist, here are the kinds of sequences that make people rank this film so highly:
- The cursed boar encounter that sets the tone: beauty, terror, and consequence in one sequence.
- Irontown’s introduction, where industry feels humannot abstractand the moral debate becomes personal.
- San’s intensity the moment she enters the story like a storm with a heartbeat.
- The forest’s “quiet intelligence”, where even stillness feels alive and watchful.
- Battle scenes that are thrilling but never cost-free.
- Moments of negotiation that feel as tense as combat, because words might fail.
- The spiritual imagery that’s haunting rather than cute, especially when nature is wounded.
- Subtle character reversals where you catch yourself sympathizing with someone you expected to hate.
- The film’s refusal to simplify, even when a simpler version would be easier to “like.”
- The ending energynot a neat bow, but a reckoning.
Common Critiques (And Whether They’re Fair)
“It’s too violent for animation.”
Fairbecause it is violent, and the film doesn’t hide the weight of it. But that’s also the point: the story is about forces that
tear worlds apart. Sanitizing it would turn it into a different film. If you’re recommending it, it’s worth warning people that
this is not a “kids’ cartoon afternoon.”
“It’s long and kind of dense.”
Also fair. This is an epic with multiple factions, multiple moral arguments, and a world that doesn’t pause to summarize itself.
If you want maximum enjoyment, watch when you’re awake, not when you’re “one more episode” tired.
“I admire it more than I love it.”
This is the most interesting critique, because it often comes from people who respect the craft but don’t emotionally connect.
If that’s you, you’re not “missing it.” You’re reacting to a film that intentionally keeps romance restrained and sentimentality low.
It aims for awe and discomfort as much as it aims for catharsis.
Where It Ranks in the Studio Ghibli Debate (And Why Lists Disagree)
In most rankings, Princess Mononoke sits in the top tier of Studio Ghibli filmsoften trading places with movies like
Spirited Away, My Neighbor Totoro, or Howl’s Moving Castle depending on what a list values most.
Some lists prioritize emotional warmth and accessibility (Totoro tends to climb). Others prioritize epic scale and moral complexity
(Mononoke charges ahead).
It also has the advantage of being a frequent “first serious anime” for Western viewers. That first-impact factor is real:
the movie doesn’t just entertainyou feel like you discovered an entire new category of storytelling.
Final Ranking: Overall Opinion
If I’m ranking it as a film (not just “as an anime,” not just “as a Ghibli”), Princess Mononoke is a top-shelf masterpiece:
visually unmatched, thematically fearless, and emotionally adult without becoming cynical.
My overall score: 9.5/10. The only reason it’s not a full 10 is that its density can create distance for some viewers
not because it fails, but because it demands attention the way great literature demands attention. And yes, sometimes you want a movie,
not a sacred text with wolves.
Viewer Experiences: 5 Ways “Princess Mononoke” Sneaks Up on You (Extra )
1) The “I Thought This Was a Cute Anime” Moment
A surprisingly common experience: someone presses play expecting something gentle, maybe whimsical, maybe “studio = cozy.”
Then the opening hitsfast, intense, unsettlingand you realize you are not watching a bedtime story. You’re watching a myth with consequences.
That shock isn’t a gimmick. It’s the film’s way of telling you, immediately, that the world here is indifferent to your expectations.
People come away from this moment either thrilled (“Finally, animation that doesn’t talk down to me!”) or deeply alarmed (“I have made a mistake.”).
Either way, it’s memorable, and it’s part of why the film stays in people’s personal rankings for years.
2) The “Wait… I Don’t Hate the ‘Villain’?” Realization
Many viewers report the same internal whiplash: you arrive ready to root for the forest and boo the humans,
and then the film introduces human characters who are complicated, protective, and (in their own context) understandable.
Suddenly you’re not cheering for a sideyou’re hoping the world survives its own argument. That’s a rare kind of tension.
It’s also why discussions about Lady Eboshi can last longer than the movie’s runtime. Some people admire her leadership.
Some people blame her for everything. Most people end up in the uncomfortable middle: recognizing that “helping one group survive”
can still cause real harm elsewhere.
3) The “This Feels Weirdly Relevant Now” Rewatch
On a rewatchespecially years laterpeople often notice how modern the film feels. Not because it predicts specific events,
but because it captures patterns: extraction, escalation, moral certainty hardening into violence, and the way systems reward
short-term wins over long-term balance. Viewers who saw it younger may remember the action and the creatures.
Viewers who return later often talk about the negotiations, the compromises that almost happen, and the tragedy of people who can’t imagine
a solution that doesn’t include someone losing. It can feel like the movie didn’t “age” so much as it kept pace with reality.
4) The “I Can Hear the Music in My Head” Effect
Another shared experience: the score lingers. People find themselves thinking about certain themes while walking outside,
driving at dusk, or staring at trees like they’re waiting for a tiny forest spirit to start clicking nearby.
That’s not just nostalgia; it’s musical storytelling doing its job. The soundtrack doesn’t only underline emotionit becomes a memory trigger.
For many fans, the music is inseparable from the film’s sense of scale: it makes the world feel older than the characters,
like history has been arguing with itself for centuries.
5) The “After It Ends, I Need a Minute” Silence
Plenty of movies end and immediately invite you to rate them, rank them, meme them, move on.
Princess Mononoke often ends and people just… sit there. Not because it’s confusing (though it can be complex),
but because it’s emotionally weighty in a mature way. It doesn’t hand you a simple triumph.
It hands you survival, loss, and the fragile possibility of doing better. That final quiet is part of the experience
and it’s also why rankings for this film tend to be passionate. People don’t just “like” it. They carry it.
