Nakayama Takuya shielded Eri as they made their way through the crowded throng to the ticket counter, where he collected two excellently positioned tickets he had arranged for someone to reserve in advance. Then he turned around and bought a huge tub of caramel popcorn and two colas.
The theater was packed to the brim. Even the aisles were filled with fervent fans who had been willing to buy standing-room tickets just to get in.
The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of popcorn and an anticipation that could not be concealed.
The lights dimmed, the massive screen lit up, and the noisy theater fell silent in an instant.
The moment Hisaishi Joe's grand, majestic theme music, steeped in the desolation of ancient times, began to play, it was as though the entire theater had been enchanted, instantly seizing everyone's ears.
That stirring music seemed to strike directly at the depths of people's souls.
For more than two hours, the theater, which held several hundred people, was astonishingly quiet.
No one whispered to their neighbor. There was no crunching of popcorn—only the occasional sound of someone unsuccessfully trying to stifle a sniffle, and, at pivotal moments, the sharp collective gasp of the entire audience.
On the screen, humanity kept cutting down forests, mining iron ore, and building Iron Town in order to survive and develop.
The gods of the forest, seeking to protect the homeland they depended on for survival, transformed into evil demons covered in writhing tentacles and fought humanity to the death.
And the innocent, wild, beautiful "Princess Mononoke," San, deeply captivated Ashitaka, who had set out in search of a way to live because of the curse fate had placed upon him.
Caught between ordinary humans and the forest gods, Ashitaka struggled bitterly, trying to find