In support of Joe Hisaishi 

While the night of opulence that the Golden Globes normally dictates didn’t end in complete surprises for me, one category stood out as a great disappointment: “Best Original Score.” From examining the past winners of this category at the Oscars last spring, I have come to understand the political game surrounding nominations and wins. However, I put those politics out of my mind this year when I discovered that my favorite composer, Joe Hisaishi, had FINALLY (!!) received his first award nomination in the so-called “West.” With this selection, I believed that the world had finally turned its head to formally recognize one of the greatest (if not the greatest) composers of all time. At the age of 73 years old, Hisaishi stands as an incredible composer not yet honored for his work through the categorical means given to similar artists of his stature—an award from one of the illustrious organizations that run Hollywood.

Courtesy of GKIDSfilms Twitter

Hisaishi’s nomination arrived after the release of The Boy and the Heron (2023), the supposed final film by renowned animator Hayao Miyazaki, for which Hisaishi composed a masterful accompanying score. Originally named How Do You Live in Japanese, but translated to a more palatable name for its American debut, the movie is an extremely mature and insightful narrative about childhood and overcoming grief. Incorporating personal experiences from Miyazaki’s youth, the film illustrates what growing up during World War II in Japan was like. Hisaishi’s  score, paired with the movie’s gorgeous animation, is nothing short of a masterpiece. Complementing the quieter nature of the main character, Mahito, Hisaishi worked with a smaller orchestra for the film. It is a stunning score, filled with dramatic compositions like “The Curse of the Gray Heron” and “Granduncle,” mixed with more upbeat and plucky pieces like “The King’s Parade.” The most notable song from the score is “Ask Me Why,” a theme that is repeated in three different iterations throughout the film. First written for director Hayao Miyazaki’s birthday, it encapsulates the grief central to the story after Mahito loses a parent. While I’ve always enjoyed Hisaishi’s work and have been a top listener of his for the past four years, there was something different about this score that swept me away. There is an intimacy that Hisaishi incorporated, causing each song to blend seamlessly into The Boy and the Heron with every note. I think that this score is the best of Hisaishi’s work, and is worthy of every amount of praise that can be given.

For these reasons, I was confident that Hisaishi would take the prize. However, on the fateful Sunday evening of the Golden Globes ceremony, I was disappointed by Hollywood yet again. The film itself won “Best Animated Feature,” making it the first foreign film to win a Golden Globe. Riding high on this historic accomplishment, I held out hope for Hisaishi’s victory to follow; but when the “Best Original Score” category came around, Ludwig Göransson triumphed for his work on the (chillingly local) historical drama Oppenheimer (2023). As I sat at my dinner table eating a Sunday Mauldin family dinner staple (Japanese shabu-shabu, a sort of hot pot), my bated breath turned into bittersweet sorrow. While Göransson produced an amazing score, I was optimistic that Miyazaki’s win would warrant the Golden Globe Journalists’ transitive recognition of the composer who has remained steadfast by Miyazaki’s side throughout his career. 

With the Golden Globes having heralded another hectic Hollywood awards season, awards show after awards show are soon to follow. While the Oscars are still a couple of months out, I know that the nominations are soon to be announced. Moving forward, I am holding onto hope that the Academy can vote differently, and in doing so choose a different path. By no means do I want to put down any other composer who is currently on the shortlist for the Oscars nomination. I have some certainty that Göransson will be nominated again and win, which is deserved—his work on Oppenheimer was nothing less than stellar. But I want to argue for Hisaishi being recognized for his work with a nomination at the very least. In a perfect world he wins, of course, but with Hollywood, I’ll take what I can get. 

This is my argument for honoring a man who just composed what I believe to be his magnum opus. Within this piece, I want to talk (or more likely ramble) about Hisaishi’s extensive history, his popularity, and what this particular movie, The Boy and the Heron, means as both as a film and as the bearer of a musical score. Let’s embark on a journey through the wonder-filled years of my childhood, as I elaborate on my love for a composer who has enchanted me since my youth. This is my endorsement of Joe Hisaishi and his score for The Boy and the Heron, for your consideration. 

Hisaishi’s oeuvre spans over 30 years of score-writing alongside Miyazaki, accompanying his movies from My Neighbor Totoro (1988) and Spirited Away (2001) to Princess Mononoke (1997) and more. Having composed for over 100 films, and having released multiple albums of his own original work, it feels as if Hisaishi’s discography is never complete; there is always some form of experimentation that can emerge through his music. While there are some common threads, including the central use of piano and violin within his compositions, Hisaishi is always sure to bring in new elements to distinguish one film score from the next. His distinctive sound has always been a grounding, familiar aspect across Studio Ghibli movies, and his compositions have become some of the most recognizable of our time. Whenever there is a Studio Ghibli film, odds are that Hisaishi is the composer and Miyazaki is the director. This is a staple across the Japanese animation company’s releases, and shows the amount of dedication that these two men share, always striving to create a film that outdoes their last, and reaching even greater heights with their mutual productions. The evidence of their success can be seen in the evolution of the film company. I can only rattle off so many film scores by Hisaishi before the list begins to sound redundant, but if you were to listen to any of the compositions that he has put together, the following would be among my recommendations: Hisaishi’s work on Princess Mononoke complements the film’s vibrant ecosystem beautifully, especially with the main piece “Ashitaka and San,” which closes out the movie. When it comes to non-Ghibli scores he’s composed, the Japanese crime movie Hana-bi (1997) sports the pieces “HANA-BI (reprise)” and “Thank You,… For Everything,”  which tell a woeful story of grief while relying on a sweeping string-heavy arrangement. Wherever you look amid Hisaishi’s work, you are sure to find a rich and enchanting story.

It has been argued that Hisaishi is “the Japanese John Williams”—a compliment that should not be taken lightly. His score for Howl’s Moving Castle (2004), a mystical steampunk fantasy movie, is widely recognized, just as Williams’ scores from Star Wars have become ubiquitous in the sonic landscape of pop culture over the last fifty years. Play the first few notes of “Merry-Go-Round of Life,” and most people my age are sure to know the piece. That level of familiarity, especially for a composer who does not come from an American background, is extremely special in the film scoring industry. And yes, I know that the Oscars aren’t meant to be a popularity contest per se, but if the Academy wants to involve the next generation in its proceedings (especially after the disaster that was Jo Koy’s viral Golden Globes monologue, which I have linked for your viewing displeasure), a strong start could involve appealing to the wide renown of a composer who is both inter-generationally and internationally beloved. Times are changing, as can be seen with the addition of new categories and awards within the Golden Globes and the Oscars, so perhaps the Academy’s voters should start to change the way that they vote alongside these inevitable shifts. Awards shows are a dying form of entertainment, something I only partake in thanks to my father’s love of and involvement in the film industry, so modifying the criteria to include popular appeal could lead to great success in the face of declining viewership. 

Despite his vastly articulated popularity, Hisaishi, until this year, has never been nominated for his compositions by any Western awards show—an outright scandal given his innumerable merits! American awards shows have previously graced European composers with nominations, but there is a noticeable discrimination against non-white candidates: last year, a German composer by the name of Volker Bertelmann won the highest honor, the “Best Original Score” Academy Award, for his score for All Quiet on the Western Front (2022). The Academy has also selected Polish composers like Jan A. P. Kaczmarek, German composers like Hans Zimmer, and even an Icelandic female composer named Hildur Guðnadóttir to win “Best Score.” But the only two Asian artists to ever be recognized, Ryuchi Sakamoto and Cong Su, triumphed hand-in-hand with their white collaborator David Byrne for The Last Emperor (1987)– no Asian composer has ever won the award solo.

The lack of recognition for talented Asian composers like Hisaishi has to come to an end. Representation in nominations leads to more diverse composers being rightfully recognized for their stellar work, and encourages more equitability within the field itself. While in recent years Western awards academies have begun to be more conscientious of this, it seems absurd that there remains little attention towards Asian composers. Now is the time to rectify this absence—granting Hisaishi an Academy Award would be a deserved acknowledgement of his remarkable career and unforgettable contributions to musical and cinematic history. While most of my discussion of the inimitable Japanese composer may be simply a fantastical daydream of a fairer world, I do hope that the Academy will come to its senses and finally recognize one of the greatest composers of our day—a compliment 30 years overdue. 

Article by Ashley Mauldin

Photos by GKIDSfilms Twitter and Nippon TV