Makoto Shinkai is the "new Miyazaki." Or at least, that’s what everyone kept screaming back in 2011. It was a heavy crown to wear. Before the global phenomenon of Your Name or the rain-soaked realism of Weathering With You, there was a weird, sprawling, and deeply ambitious movie called Children Who Chase Lost Voices (known in Japan as Hoshi o Ou Kodomo).
Honestly? It’s a bit of a mess. But it’s a beautiful, essential mess that explains everything about how modern anime evolved into what it is today.
Most people watch this and think it’s a Ghibli knockoff. You’ve got the giant underground monsters, the mystical crystals, and a young girl embarking on a journey through a literal underworld. But looking closer reveals something much darker. While Miyazaki usually focuses on the balance of nature and humanity, Shinkai used this film to poke at a much more painful bruise: the inability to say goodbye to the dead.
The Agartha Connection: What Actually Happens
The story follows Asuna, a lonely girl who spends her time listening to a crystal radio on a mountaintop. She’s smart, self-sufficient, and carries the quiet burden of a father who passed away years ago. One day, she meets Shun, a boy from a subterranean land called Agartha. He dies. It’s sudden. It’s brutal. It’s very Shinkai.
What follows isn't just a fantasy adventure. It’s a descent into a world where the laws of life and death are supposedly flexible. Asuna joins her teacher, Mr. Morisaki, who isn't there to save the world. He’s there because he is a grieving widower who would burn the entire world down just to see his wife's face one more time.
This is where the film gets gritty.
Unlike the whimsical spirits in Spirited Away, the entities in Children Who Chase Lost Voices—the Quetzalcoatls—are decaying gods. They are biological machines that have stayed on Earth too long. They are literally rotting. It’s a stark contrast to the "lost voice" Asuna is trying to find. She isn't searching for a magical kingdom; she's searching for a way to stop feeling lonely.
Why People Get This Movie Wrong
If you read reviews from 2011, critics were obsessed with the visual similarities to Castle in the Sky. They weren't wrong. The character designs by Takayo Nishimura intentionally mimic that old-school aesthetic.
But the "Ghibli-esque" label is a trap.
Shinkai’s core obsession has always been distance. In Voices of a Distant Star, it was the distance of light-years. In 5 Centimeters per Second, it was the distance of growing up. In Children Who Chase Lost Voices, the distance is the finality of the grave. The film uses high-fantasy tropes as a camouflage for a psychological study on "The Archangel," a military organization that wants to exploit Agartha for power, contrasted against Morisaki’s singular, selfish grief.
There is a specific scene where Morisaki finally reaches the Gate of Life and Death. He’s told that to bring someone back, a soul must be traded. It isn't a fairy tale. It’s a horror story. The price of "chasing lost voices" is usually the life of someone standing right next to you.
The Production Reality of Agartha
Let's talk about the technical side. This was Shinkai's longest film at the time, running 116 minutes. He moved away from his "one-man army" roots to work with a massive staff at CoMix Wave Films.
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The background art is where the movie truly peaks.
They used a specific color palette to differentiate the "Surface" from "Agartha." The Surface world uses saturated, nostalgic sunsets—Shinkai’s trademark. Agartha, however, uses an eerie, bioluminescent green and earthy ochre. It feels ancient. It feels heavy. This wasn't just digital painting; it was a deliberate attempt to create a world that felt like it was dying under its own weight.
According to production notes, Shinkai was heavily influenced by the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. He wanted to see if a modern protagonist could break the cycle of that tragedy. Most Japanese folklore, like the story of Izanagi and Izanami, ends with the living being terrified of the dead. Asuna breaks that. She realizes that the "lost voices" are meant to stay lost.
Is Agartha Real?
Sorta. Not in our world, obviously. But the concept of a hollow earth or a subterranean civilization is a staple of 19th-century occultism and "Theosophy." Shinkai pulled from actual legends of Shambhala and Agartha that circulated in Europe and Asia for decades.
- Quetzalcoatl: These aren't just dragons. In the film, they are "Gatekeepers" who guide humanity. When they finish their task, they sing their last song and merge into the earth.
- The Shakuna Vimana: The flying vessels used by the gods. The name "Vimana" comes directly from ancient Sanskrit texts.
- Clavis: The crystal shard. It’s basically a key, but in this universe, it acts as a bridge between frequencies.
It’s easy to dismiss these as generic fantasy bits. But for Asuna, the Clavis is the only physical link she has to a father she barely remembers. It’s a metaphor for the objects we cling to when we can’t let go of a person.
The Impact on Shinkai’s Later Hits
Without Children Who Chase Lost Voices, we don't get Your Name.
This was the director's "learning" movie. He learned how to handle a large cast. He learned that he couldn't just rely on pretty clouds to tell a story; he needed stakes. You can see the DNA of Agartha in the "Underworld" (Kakuriyo) where Mitsuha’s family leaves the sake in Your Name.
The film also marked the beginning of his long-term collaboration with Tenmon, the composer who defined the "melancholy" sound of early 2000s anime. The score here is grander, using more orchestral swells than his previous piano-heavy tracks.
The Harsh Truth About the Ending
Some fans hate the ending. It’s not a clean wrap-up.
Asuna goes back to her normal life. She’s still a kid. She still has to go to school. She hasn't gained any magical powers, and she hasn't brought anyone back to life. But she’s changed. She understands that "saying goodbye" is a skill you have to practice.
The movie basically argues that chasing the dead is a waste of the life you have left. It’s a heavy message for a film that looks like a kids' adventure. Morisaki, the teacher, ends up blinded and broken. He got what he wanted, but it cost him everything. It's a cautionary tale about nostalgia.
Actionable Steps for New Viewers
If you’re planning to dive into this film, or if you’ve seen it and felt confused, here is how to actually digest it:
Watch the "Surface" scenes carefully. Pay attention to Asuna’s chores. The film spends a long time showing her cooking, cleaning, and being "the adult" in her house because her mother is a nurse who works double shifts. This context is vital. Her journey to Agartha isn't an escape from boredom; it's a manifestation of her burnout.
Compare it to Makoto Shinkai’s short films. Watch The Garden of Words immediately after. You’ll see the shift from the high-fantasy world of Agartha back to the hyper-realism of Tokyo. It highlights how much of a "detour" this movie was for him.
Don't look for a Ghibli moral. There is no "save the environment" message here. This is a movie about the selfishness of love. If you go in expecting Princess Mononoke, you’ll be disappointed. Go in expecting a tragedy about a girl who just wants to hear a specific frequency on her radio one more time.
Check the official Art Books. If you can find the Hoshi o Ou Kodomo art books, look at the Quetzalcoatl designs. The level of detail in their "dying" forms is incredible and explains much of the lore that the dialogue glosses over.
The reality is that Children Who Chase Lost Voices remains the black sheep of Shinkai's filmography. It’s weird, it’s long, and it’s occasionally confusing. But it’s also the most honest he’s ever been about how much it hurts to lose someone. It’s not a polished masterpiece, but it’s a vital piece of animation history that deserves a second look beyond the "Miyazaki clone" labels.