It was 1984, and Hiyao Miyazaki had the world at his feet. His directorial debut, the animated feature film Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind he created with producer Isao Takahata, had been both a critical and commercial success. But it had come at a cost.

The production had left Miyazaki burnt out. “I have to tell you something,” Miyazaki confided to collaborator and friend Tochio Suzuki. “I made a movie, but I lost all kinds of friends. I don’t want that kind of life. I want to go back to being an animator.”

The industrious and meticulous Miyazaki had by this time spent years on Nausicaä, initially in its manga iteration, and later as the director of its feature-length anime adaptation. Miyazaki’s imagination had been sparked by a childhood visit to Minamata Bay on the west coast of Kyushu, whose waters — heavily-polluted by mercury and other toxins — had caused sickness to a local population reliant on a seafood diet.

Miyazaki was fascinated by how nature adapted to — and thrived in — this poisoned environment. Much of this influence can be seen in the flora and fauna of Nausicaä.

Isao Takahata (left) and Hayao Miyazaki (right) pictured together in the 1980s.

After box office success, Miyazaki and Takahata began exploring ideas for future collaborations.

Miyazaki had by that time the rudiments of an idea that would see Takahata pack a small suitcase and travel to Yanagawa, a city in the south of Japan popular with tourists for its extensive network of canals. Miyazaki, on a previous visit to the city, had considered it suitable inspiration for the setting of an animated film centred upon the area’s schoolchildren. Takahata was dispatched to scout locations.

Arriving in Yanagawa, he sought to explore Yanagawa’s waterways by donkobune — the narrow, pole-manoeuvred riverboat ubiquitous to the town. He observed the people of Yanagawa; the women rinsing rice on the banks of the canals, the men working the fields, driving irrigation wheels by hand, and the schoolchildren — trousers rolled hastily above knees — wading with nets in the hope of catching small fish.

Most crucial of all though, was Takahata’s meeting with Tsutae Hiromatsu, the head of the local water supply division, who explained the extensive revitalisation of its canal system the city had seen. Takahata was captivated.

Upon his return home, Takahata explained to Miyazaki that rather than using Yanagawa as the inspiration for an animated feature, he wanted to film a documentary about the city, its people, and its 290 miles of canals.

Miyazaki turned to Suzuki for advice. Suzuki told Miyazaki that with an extra 60 million yen in the bank after the success of Nausicaä, he should lend Takahata half to make his canals documentary. Miyazaki agreed, and gave Takahata a year.

That year turned into two as he quickly fell behind schedule, returning again and again to Yanagawa, filming and talking to its residents and exploring its labyrinth of waterways. What had begun as a trip to scout locations had become an obsession.

Eventually, with patience and finances running low, an exasperated Miyazaki had had enough and finally cut off funding for the project. Miyazaki turned again to Suzuki for advice, “I don’t want to have to remortgage my house!” Suzuki suggested making another movie to cover the costs of Takahata’s canals documentary, and to save Miyazaki from going broke altogether. It was this conversation that gave birth to Studio Ghibli, with Miyazaki, Takahata and Suzuki as its co-founders. Soon after, Miyazaki had begun work on what would later become the first Studio Ghibli film proper, Laputa: Castle in the Sky.

Meanwhile, Takahata returned home to edit the thousands of hours of footage.