The idea for “Scarlet” did not begin with a plan to adapt “Hamlet”. What came first was a sense of discomfort I could not put into words as I witnessed the changes in society. The project started taking shape just as the world was emerging from the COVID-19 pandemic. Just as it seemed we might finally reclaim some sense of normality, new conflicts began to surface around the world.. It felt as if the world had slipped into another dark tunnel. Deep down, people believed that conflicts had no place in an age of economic interdependence. Yet reality proved otherwise with unsettling ease. Watching society unfold like this, I began to understand how cycles of revenge and hatred can keep spiraling without end. It isn’t a matter of who’s right or wrong. Each side carries wounds they can’t forgive, and those feelings ignite the next conflict, tracing the same pattern again and again. Somewhere inside that cycle, I felt a question calling out for attention.
What is a story of revenge? Why do humans feel compelled to seek retribution? While grappling with these questions, I found myself drawn to Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”. “Hamlet” is not only the world’s most famous revenge tragedy, but it also carries a fundamental question: what is revenge, and can it ever save anyone? The protagonist is a young man whose father has been murdered, yet he cannot summon the resolve to take revenge. He is relentlessly torn between reason and emotion, between anger and conscience. That struggle, I felt, reflects the very essence of being human. We see the same structure in society today. Conflicting ideas of justice collide, and cycles of retaliation never end. This is the reality we face in the world around us. This is why I wanted to take the classic “Hamlet” and overlay it with the pains of the present. Not to retell the story literally, but to ask: if Hamlet were alive today, how would he act? Through that question, I hoped to illustrate the meaning of revenge in the modern world.
This film isn’t just an adaptation. It’s my way of bringing the heart of a classic into conversation with the present day. In tracing what has evolved and what hasn’t, I wanted to reflect on the fundamentals of being human.
I think the environment surrounding animation has changed dramatically over the past ten years. Japanese animation used to be a culture that existed almost entirely within Japan. Fans supported it with a kind of intense, inward-focused energy. Today, streaming platforms make it possible for audiences around the world to experience the same work simultaneously. That shift has undoubtedly influenced the creative process.
I believe Japanese animation became popular overseas not because it was localized, but because it arrived in its original form. The everyday life, atmosphere, and subtle emotions of Japan traveled across languages and cultures. It was a pivotal moment, revealing that animation can connect with people on a human level across the world.
Now, young people around the world connect with Japanese animation as naturally as they would with works of their own cultures. It’s something that simply didn’t happen years ago. This global reach is about more than a wider audience. It reflects a real shift in how people engage with these works. Animation is increasingly seen not as the product of one culture, but as a language that speaks to shared human emotions. That said, I do not consciously try to make works that will succeed internationally. I focus on the stories that feel called for now, approaching them with genuine intent. If they resonate beyond borders, that is simply how the story unfolds. That is the true power of animation as I understand it.
I felt a significant shift. For “Scarlet,” Toho and Sony Pictures worked together on distribution, and the scale and speed of the promotion were unlike anything I had experienced before. Toho’s promotional team and Sony Pictures’ global reach kept moving in tandem, and to be honest, there was hardly a moment to catch my breath.
Working within a structure of this scope gave me a clear sense of how the film was reaching audiences around the world. At the Venice International Film Festival, “Scarlet” was the only animated film in the lineup, and its presence there felt like proof that animation can no longer be overlooked on the global stage. What made that moment possible were the global distribution and marketing of Sony Pictures.
As we work to cultivate animation into something that speaks to a wide range of audiences around the world, this collaboration meant a great deal. It might even mark an important shift for the industry.
I see technology simply as a tool for expression. Whether it is 2D or 3D, neither is inherently right or wrong. What matters is what you want to depict and which tools best serve that purpose. Choosing a paintbrush or a digital tool is just a matter of technique, not ideology. There has been much debate over 2D versus 3D, but in truth, that argument misses the point. The essence of expression lies not in the technology itself, but in what you convey through it.
I have been gradually weaving computer graphics into my work since “Summer Wars.” In “Belle,” more than half of the online world was built with CG, and in “Scarlet,” I set out to blend hand-drawn emotional expression with CG-driven space in a real-world setting. The way I draw on technological advances shifts with the themes of each project. Above all, new tools should never become the purpose of the work.
If we look at the history of painting, each era saw new techniques open the door to new ways of expressing the world. Movements like the Renaissance or Impressionism emerged through technical shifts, but it was how artists perceived their time that ultimately changed the course of art. Animation follows the same path. Even as technology moves forward, the fundamental essence of drawing remains the same. That is why, even while I work with new tools, I try to hold on to the intuition that only drawing can offer. Technology can enrich expression, but the moment you surrender to it, expression can quickly slip into emptiness.
Each time I come across a new tool, I ask myself what I want to create with it and what emotions I hope it will carry. Every time I revisit these questions, I realize just how much potential animation has in store.
I often feel that animation still has so much room to grow. Even if the field looks crowded from the outside, there are still so many paths no one has taken and so many worlds yet to be dreamed. Discovering those untouched places is one of the real joys of this craft. Each creator can only complete a limited number of works in their lifetime. I hope the next generation of creators will uncover expressions that only they can bring to life.
Animation is not a closed-off realm defined by fixed genres. It is a wide-open field, and there are still many forms of storytelling waiting to take shape. You cannot carve out a place in this world by tracing someone else’s lines. Rather than reproducing the great works that came before us, I believe it is far more important to give shape to the sensations and questions that feel personal to you. I hope you enter this field determined to create exciting new animations no one has made before. Technology will continue to advance, but the heart of animation does not lie in the tools. It lies in your desire to express something that is uniquely yours. The possibilities for expression continue to grow. I want you to believe in your own instincts and in the world your eyes reveal. The future of animation is still unwritten. I believe the newcomers entering this world will sketch what comes next.
I believe creation is an impulse you simply cannot ignore. When a new idea hits you, you feel driven to test it, and letting it sit untouched feels almost unbearable. Innovation is an impressive word, but the reality is far from simple. Attempting what no one has tried before means entering a space without guidance or support. Funding is hard to secure, and the risks are real. Still, I cannot shake the feeling that if I do not take that step, my world would stall.
Animation exists on the long arc of art history, and there is still so much it has yet to discover as an art. Just as Renaissance and Impressionist painters shifted how people understood their world, I believe animation can continue that evolution and broaden the horizon of expression. That is why I do not want to spend my time recreating things people already know they want. I want to make something that quenches a thirst no one has even realized they have. To me, that feels far closer to what creating is meant to be.
Pushing toward something new is never without its challenges. At times it feels as if you are forcing your way forward, one hard step at a time. But there are things you can only find past that struggle, and the joy of those moments is what keeps me creating. That impulse is the “voice” inside me that never fades.
Mamoru Hosoda began his career as an animator at Toei Animation before making his directorial debut in 1999. In 2011, he co-founded Studio CHIZU with producer Yuichiro Saito. He directed, wrote, and created “Wolf Children” and “The Boy and the Beast.” His latest film, “Scarlet,” was selected for the 82nd Venice International Film Festival and the 50th Toronto International Film Festival.
