The Untold Story of Miyazaki’s Abandoned Anime Masterpiece

Decades before Studio Ghibli became a global symbol of wonder and nostalgia, Hayao Miyazaki made a decision that would quietly shape the future of animation. He stepped away from a film project so shrouded in mystery, most fans have never even heard of it. This wasn’t a casualty of budget cuts or scheduling headaches—it was a creative standoff that left a mark on anime history without ever making it to the screen.

Creative Giants Collide: The Birth and Death of Anchor

In the mid-1980s, the anime world was buzzing with innovation. Miyazaki had just released Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, a film that proved animation could tackle weighty themes like war and environmental disaster while still connecting with audiences. Isao Takahata was refining his emotionally charged, almost documentary- like approach to storytelling. Meanwhile, Mamoru Oshii had just delivered Angel’s Egg, a film so dense with symbolism and ambiguity that it still baffles viewers today.

Amid this creative whirlwind, a new project called Anchor was set in motion. In 1985, Oshii was invited to direct, with Miyazaki and Takahata on board as producers. For a brief moment, it looked like three of anime’s most influential minds would join forces. But as Oshii later recalled, their collaboration was doomed from the start:

Since Takahata-san works at the same place as Miya-san, I often meet him, and we talk from time to time. There was even a project which we three were going to do. I think it was after Angel’s Egg (1985), it was a Ghibli project called Anchor. I think Miya-san was going to be the producer, I was going to be the director, and Takahata-san was going to produce too. We three got together and made a plot, but one night, we had a big fight and disagreement, and I quit.

Philosophy Over Compromise: Why Anchor Never Happened

There were no sketches, no scripts, not even a rough outline that survived. The only thing left is the story of a meeting where three creative visions clashed. Oshii brought his signature style—quiet, symbolic, and open to interpretation. Miyazaki, on the other hand, believed animation should be lively, emotionally honest, and accessible. Takahata leaned toward realism and subtle human drama.

It took just one heated conversation to end the project. No one tried to salvage it. Anchor vanished before it even began, becoming a legend among what-ifs in animation. The project’s demise wasn’t about logistics—it was about three artists refusing to compromise on what animation should be.

Miyazaki’s Unyielding Vision and Its Ripple Effect

Miyazaki’s unwavering commitment to his creative ideals shaped not only his own work but also the direction of Studio Ghibli. He insisted that animation must be emotionally genuine and relatable, even when dealing with heavy topics. His films draw viewers in with movement, warmth, and hope, no matter how dark the subject matter.

Oshii, by contrast, thrived on ambiguity and discomfort, favoring long silences and philosophical puzzles over straightforward storytelling. In a later interview, Oshii joked that Studio Ghibli was like a political system, with Miyazaki as the revolutionary and Takahata as the strict administrator. The joke hinted at a deeper truth: Ghibli’s tightly controlled creative environment left little room for Oshii’s experimental approach.

The Road Not Taken: How Anime History Changed Course

If Anchor had survived, Studio Ghibli might have launched with a dark, atmospheric, and deeply philosophical film instead of the adventurous optimism of Castle in the Sky. The entire landscape of anime—and Ghibli’s global reputation—could have looked very different.

Instead, Miyazaki chose clarity and emotional resonance over abstraction and experimentation. Oshii went on to revolutionize anime with his own unique vision, while Takahata continued to explore realism and human complexity. Miyazaki’s magical worlds would go on to inspire generations, but the ghost of Anchor remains—a reminder that sometimes, the most powerful stories are the ones that never get told.