Released During the Iraq War, Howl’s Moving Castle Offers a Timeless Lesson on the Arbitrary Nature of War

A still shot from the film.

About The Film

Set in a fantastical kingdom threatened by a military conflict, Howl’s Moving Castle follows Sophie, a young hat-maker transformed by a witch’s curse, as she becomes entwined in the life of the elusive wizard Howl.

The film was written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki, animated by Studio Ghibli, and filled with stunning cinematography—featuring period cityscapes and sweeping countryside landscapes. Christian Bale voiced Howl in the English-language version, a unique casting choice. Known for playing Batman, Bale brings a brooding mystique to the role that mirrors Howl’s enigmatic nature. His status as the “prince of Gotham” creates an interesting parallel to Howl, who is himself a reluctant figure of power.

The war in the background is only partially explained—two rival kingdoms have fallen into conflict after the disappearance of a prince. No one questions the rationale behind it, and few seem to care.

The war exists less as a narrative driver and more as a force of nature, chaotic and dehumanizing, moving in parallel with the personal transformations of the characters. As a matter of fact, that’s what makes the war so compelling, it slowly creeps from being a side plot to becoming a central part of the main story-line. Audiences get to experience the entire war, the diplomatic miscommunication that causes it, the way it unfolds, the peak of it’s destruction, and then the celebration that comes with ending it.

A still shot from the film.

Antiwar Themes

Military presence and warfare are emphasized throughout the film. In the bustling commercial district, soldiers in brightly colored uniforms are made to stand out, evoking imagery of occupied France or Europe during World War I and II.

Influenced by Miyazaki’s opposition to the United States’ invasion of Iraq in 2003, the film contains strong anti-war themes. Miyazaki stated that he "had a great deal of rage" about the Iraq war, which motivated him to create a film he expected might be poorly received in the U.S. That outrage pulses beneath the film’s whimsical surface, shaping its message. That message remains hauntingly relevant today. Russia’s war in Ukraine, much like the Iraq War, was initiated under a cloud of propaganda and strategic posturing, but at its core, it too appears to be the result of one man’s desire for control and land. Both wars expose the fragile, often irrational foundations on which modern conflicts are built—where leaders, removed from the consequences of their decisions, plunge entire nations into chaos for reasons that rarely withstand scrutiny.

What makes Howl’s Moving Castle unique in its antiwar stance is how it refuses to glorify the act of fighting. Howl, powerful though he is, wants nothing to do with the war. He uses his powers as a wizard to interfere with military operations on both sides, but doing so slowly strips away his humanity. Sophie, grounded in compassion, becomes the moral center who challenges his descent. Her love and clarity eventually pull him back, reinforcing the idea that healing is a more noble pursuit than violence disguised as heroism.

In the film, the main antagonist—Madame Suliman, a powerful sorceress and advisor to the king—leads one of the warring kingdoms and seems to pursue conflict out of little more than pride, control, or sadistic detachment. Though positioned as all-knowing, she remains blind to the destruction her warmongering causes, only realizing the futility of it all at the very end. This reinforces one of the film’s most powerful points: that wars are often not driven by moral clarity or necessity, but by the arbitrary desires and personal ambitions of those in power.

A still shot from the film.

Time, Identity, And Acceptance

Howl’s Moving Castle explores time, age, identity, and acceptance through its dreamlike, often non-linear narrative and rich character arcs. Time in the film is both literal and symbolic, with moments folding into each other—past, present, and future blurring, particularly in Howl’s childhood flashback and the transformation of the castle itself. The curse that turns Sophie into an old woman becomes a physical manifestation of how she feels inside: hesitant, self-effacing, and unsure of her place in the world. As she learns to accept herself and act with confidence, the curse weakens, suggesting that age here is not simply a number, but a reflection of internal perception and emotional growth.

Identity is fluid throughout the story. Characters hide behind masks—Howl with his flamboyant bravado and shifting appearance, Sophie with her elderly form, and even the Witch of the Waste, who loses power and reverts to a more vulnerable version of herself. These shifts reflect the film’s core message about embracing one’s true self. Acceptance, both of oneself and of others, becomes the quiet but powerful resolution. Sophie learns to love Howl for who he is, flaws and all, and in turn, Howl sheds his fear and selfishness. In a world of magic and war, it’s the deeply human act of accepting change—within oneself and others—that ultimately brings peace.

A still shot from the film.

Moral Lessons

Pollution also plays a symbolic role. Both the castle and war machines emit black smoke, contaminating the skies—a visual representation of how war and unchecked industrialism poison not just the earth, but the soul of society. Even Howl’s castle itself becomes a symbol. As it begins to fall apart near the end of the film, it reflects a rejection of materialism and hyper-consumption. It’s only when the castle breaks down that the characters find freedom, connection, and clarity.

The universe of Howl’s Moving Castle does not rely on clear-cut heroes and villains. Characters are complex and capable of change. Even Howl, initially portrayed as self-centered and mysterious, reveals himself to be both vulnerable and self-sacrificing. This moral complexity echoes recent Star Wars stories—such as Rogue One or Andor—where figures like Galen Erso or defectors are portrayed with gray motives and internal conflict rather than easy labels of good or evil.

Characters across the film come from different social classes and wrestle with unique, yet fundamentally human, internal struggles. All of them evolve and grow over the course of the story. And at the heart of it all is the film’s clearest lesson—one that remains relevant today: compassion. Specifically, compassion toward those you cannot expect to benefit from, and the quiet heroism in choosing kindness anyway. You never know, that silly stranger you smiled at that one day on the subway might just save your life the next.