"Including myself, a generation of Japanese men who grew up during a certain period have very complex feelings about World War II, and the Zero symbolizes our collective psyche," said Miyazaki in an interview with the Asahi Shimbun. "Japan went to war out of foolish arrogance, caused trouble throughout the entire East Asia, and ultimately brought destruction upon itself... but for all this humiliating history, the Zero represented one of the few things that we Japanese could be proud of." Despite the Zero's status as a fearsome war machine, Miyazaki was more concerned with the inspired mind behind its design. "It was the extraordinary genius of Jiro Horikoshi, the Zero's designer, that made it the finest state-of-the-art fighter plane of the time... Horikoshi intuitively understood the mystery of aerodynamics that nobody could explain in words."

"Horikoshi intuitively understood the mystery of aerodynamics that nobody could explain in words."

Miyazaki's feelings for Horikoshi make more sense when you look at the director's filmography, which is filled with fantastical depictions of the magic of human flight. Movies such as Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, Laputa: Castle in the Sky, and Kiki's Delivery Service see characters take to the skies with such joy and beauty that they could only have come from the mind of an artist so enamored with the concept. But those movies were set in fantasy worlds, with little to no historical context in the minds of the audience. The Wind Rises is different, bestowing the same sense of bewitchment and wonder on notorious war machines without spelling out what they were designed for. Given the setting, did Miyazaki have a responsibility to address Japan's wartime exploits more explicitly?

"The point is that the film still accommodates Japanese society's willful amnesia about World War II," Kang tells The Verge. "My problem is the 'pussyfooting' around war crimes I refer to in my piece. It's possible to make great, moral art out of problematic subjects." Kang notes that "no Japanese pilot is ever seen shooting at an enemy" in The Wind Rises, while the film's allusions to war see Chinese fighters and Japan's shaky alliance with Nazi Germany contributing to a creeping sense of dread.

Kelts, on the other hand, finds "the mini-brouhaha" around The Wind Rises "specious and self-serving," arguing that Miyazaki has no obligation to preach about the past. "If the film were about a pilot or general or army grunt, references to Japan's brutal colonization of Asia might be apt. But Jiro is working on the home front, designing what he believes will be a thing of beauty." And even if the movie touches a nerve among some viewers, it's clear that the director intended quite the opposite. "Miyazaki the man is open about his disgust at any hint of militarism in Japan and his abhorrence of politicians who ignorantly stoke its embers today," says Kelts. "Critics who focus their understandable anger over Japan's disposition 70-plus years ago on an artist whose every fibre agrees with them are wasting their words."