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10 Studio Ghibli Movies You Should Watch for Spooky Vibes

Cosy magic, eerie spirits, and just the right touch of the uncanny.

I honestly don’t know why I haven’t done this Studio Ghibli spooky movies list before, probably because I usually dive straight into horror series and movies every October. This year I insisted that my husband put in effort for this Halloween and find us snacks and a movie to watch. Since then, I have had movie suggestions rolling through my mind, but I refuse to assist him. He doesn’t do horror, thrillers, or anything along those lines. However, I still want a movie, ookie and spooky.

Since so many of my mental picks turned out to be Studio Ghibli spooky movies, I figured I might as well turn them into an actual post, a little guide to Ghibli’s cosiest, spookiest stories, if you will. Who knows, maybe he’ll stumble across this post and be inspired… but I doubt it.

I’ve conjured up a cosy, yet slightly spooky Studio Ghibli Halloween watch list that is good for any time of the year.

10 Studio Ghibli Movies With Spooky Vibes

Even though Studio Ghibli isn’t known for outright horror, many of its films whisper of otherworldly places, unseen spirits, and transformations that linger long after the credits roll. These titles bring that gentle eeriness, the kind that makes you want to sip tea under a blanket while the wind hums outside.

Below are my top recommendations with the most memorable unsettling elements, inspired by folklore, spirits, witches, and haunted transformations.

All of the listed movies are available to stream on Netflix and HBO Max.

Spirited Away (2001): Lost in the Spirit World

A young girl stumbles into a bathhouse for gods and spirits, where she must navigate a world ruled by greed, magic, and transformation.

Chihiro and Haku hiding among hydrangea bushes at night, with Chihiro looking frightened while Haku watches protectively, from Spirited Away by Studio Ghibli. Two animated characters sitting among lush green foliage and blue flowers, displaying a sense of concern and intrigue.

Spooky vibe: Enchanted realism, shapeshifting creatures, and an eerie loneliness that hums beneath the surface.

Best watched when: The house is quiet and you’re craving something beautifully unsettling.

For those who love: Eerie whimsy, wandering spirits, and the strange comfort of the unknown.

Chihiro’s descent into the spirit world operates like a fever dream where the rules shift without warning. The bathhouse teems with masked figures, bloated river spirits, and No-Face, a creature whose hunger grows as grotesque as his surroundings allow. There’s an atmosphere of constant vulnerability here, where a single misstep could mean losing your name, your identity, or your humanity entirely. The film wraps its terror in beauty, making the uncanny feel almost comforting until you remember Chihiro’s parents have been transformed into pigs and might never change back.

Howl’s Moving Castle (2004): Witchcraft and Wanderlust

A timid young woman is cursed into old age and finds herself in the ever-shifting, creaking castle of the mysterious wizard Howl.

Sophie Hatter holding a candle in the dark, her expression focused as the flame flickers close to her face, from Howl’s Moving Castle by Studio Ghibli. A young girl holding a candle, with a flickering flame casting light in a dim room, creating a cozy yet slightly eerie atmosphere.

Spooky vibe: Gothic castles, witchcraft, fire demons, and transformations steeped in longing.

Best watched when: You’re in the mood for romance wrapped in smoke, spells, and starlight.

For those who love: Fairytale magic, cursed love stories, and eccentric wizards.

Sophie’s transformation isn’t just physical; it strips away her youth and forces her to reckon with who she is beneath expectation. The castle itself breathes and groans, a living structure tethered to chaos by Calcifer, a fire demon bound by contract. Howl’s vanity conceals something fractured, and the Witch of the Waste drags behind her the weight of obsession turned monstrous. War looms in the background, never quite in focus, but always threatening to consume everything. The film’s magic feels unstable, a little dangerous, as if one wrong spell could unravel the entire world.

Princess Mononoke (1997): Curses in the Forest

A young warrior, cursed by a dying demon, becomes entangled in a brutal conflict between humans and the ancient gods of the forest.

San, with red markings and a determined expression, presses her face to the side of the great wolf Moro, from Princess Mononoke by Studio Ghibli. A character with a fierce expression, adorned with tribal makeup and earrings, stands beside a large, furry creature in a vibrant forest setting.

Spooky vibe: Writhing curses, vengeful spirits, and the primal darkness of nature fighting back.

Best watched when: A thunderstorm rolls in and the wind howls through the trees.

For those who love: Mythic battles, cursed heroes, and dark fantasy rooted in folklore.

Ashitaka’s curse spreads across his arm like rot, a visible reminder that violence begets violence and nature does not forgive easily. The forest spirits aren’t benevolent; they’re territorial, ancient, and willing to destroy anything that threatens their survival. San lives among wolves, raised to hate humanity, whilst Lady Eboshi leads her people with steel and gunpowder, convinced progress requires bloodshed. The Forest Spirit itself embodies life and death in equal measure, and when it walks, the ground blooms and withers in the same breath. This is Ghibli at its darkest, where no side is innocent and the price of hubris is devastating.

My Neighbor Totoro (1988): Whispers in the Forest

Two young sisters move to the countryside and discover the magical creatures that dwell in the woods surrounding their new home.

Satsuki and Mei standing in the doorway of a dusty wooden house filled with soot sprites, from My Neighbor Totoro by Studio Ghibli. A scene from Studio Ghibli with two young girls standing at the entrance of a rustic house, surrounded by a slightly eerie atmosphere, hinting at unseen spirits.

Spooky vibe: Gentle spirits, silent forests, and the mysterious sense that something unseen is always watching kindly.

Best watched when: The rain patters softly outside and you’re craving nostalgia, tea, and a warm blanket.

For those who love: Cosy supernatural tales, childhood wonder, and the magic of the everyday.

Totoro feels like a ghost story told in daylight. The soot sprites scatter into shadows, the Catbus materialises from nowhere with too many legs and glowing eyes, and Totoro himself is vast and silent, a creature who exists just beyond comprehension. The film plays with absence: their mother’s illness lingers unspoken, their father is often away, and the girls navigate this new, uncertain world largely on their own. The forest watches, and sometimes it offers comfort, but there’s always the question of what else might be waiting beneath the camphor tree.

Pom Poko (1994): Folklore and Forest Mischief

Shape-shifting tanuki (raccoon dogs) use ancient illusion magic to defend their forest from urban developers.

Tanuki group peering cautiously from behind a wooden wall in the forest, from Pom Poko by Studio Ghibli. A group of animated tanuki characters with humorous expressions, appearing curious and slightly apprehensive, set against a forest backdrop.

Spooky vibe: Ghostly parades, chaotic transformation, and spirits waging a desperate resistance.

Best watched when: You want something weird, funny, and slightly eerie all at once.

For those who love: Japanese folklore, environmental fables, and mischievous spirits.

The tanuki’s final stand is a parade of yokai, ghosts, and spirits marching through the city in a last-ditch effort to frighten humans away. For a brief, surreal moment, the past bleeds into the present, and Tokyo becomes haunted by its own history. But the magic fades, the illusions collapse, and the forest continues to shrink. The tanuki are left with a choice: adapt, resist, or disappear. The film plays as both comedy and tragedy, a reminder that folklore doesn’t always survive modernity, and sometimes the spirits lose.

Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989): A Witch’s Gentle Journey

A young witch leaves home to start a flying delivery business, learning independence and the quiet struggles of growing up.

Kiki, the young witch with a red bow, holding her broom and looking determined, from Kiki’s Delivery Service by Studio Ghibli. A young witch stands with a broom in her hand, looking determined. She has dark hair and a big red bow on her head, set against a colorful background.

Spooky vibe: The comforting side of witchcraft, broomsticks, black cats, and moonlit skies.

Best watched when: You’re wrapped in a blanket and craving soft, witchy charm.

For those who love: Cosy magic, coming-of-age warmth, and cottagecore aesthetics.

Kiki’s magic isn’t dramatic; it’s subtle, woven into the mundane. She flies through fog-drenched streets, delivers packages in the rain, and grapples with the fear that she’s losing her power entirely. Her black dress and broomstick mark her as different, but the film treats witchcraft as work, something that requires discipline, doubt, and perseverance. Jiji, her black cat, offers companionship until even that fades, leaving Kiki to confront loneliness in a city that doesn’t always notice her. It’s a quieter kind of unsettling, the kind that comes from feeling like you might not be enough.

The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (2013): A Moonlit Tragedy

A bamboo cutter discovers a tiny glowing child inside a bamboo stalk, a girl whose celestial origins bring beauty and sorrow.

Princess Kaguya leaning forward in concentration, dressed in a traditional kimono, from The Tale of the Princess Kaguya by Studio Ghibli. A young girl in a traditional kimono is leaning forward anxiously, gazing at something on a table, with a look of determination and concern, set in a softly lit room.

Spooky vibe: Ethereal melancholy, moonlit mystery, and the ache of impermanence.

Best watched when: You’re feeling reflective and the night feels a little too quiet.

For those who love: Ancient folklore, haunting art styles, and bittersweet mythic tales.

Kaguya is never quite human, and the film doesn’t let you forget it. Her beauty attracts suitors who see her as a prize, her adoptive parents who see her as a miracle, but none of them see her as she truly is. The hand-drawn animation flickers like memory, scenes dissolving into brushstrokes and negative space, as if the story itself is fading. When the moon people descend to reclaim her, they arrive without emotion, draped in robes that erase individuality. Kaguya’s departure feels less like an ending and more like an erasure, a return to something cold and distant. The grief lingers, quiet and unshakable.

Grave of the Fireflies (1988): Ghost Light in the Dark

Two siblings struggle amid the devastation of World War II, clinging to each other through unimaginable loss.

Seita lying on the ground, weary and covered in dirt, from Grave of the Fireflies by Studio Ghibli. A close-up of a young boy lying on the ground, looking weary and disheveled, with dirt smudges on his face, evoking a sense of despair.

Spooky vibe: Not supernatural, but profoundly haunting, a ghost story of love and memory.

Best watched when: You’re prepared for tears and silence, with candlelight flickering nearby.

For those who love: Emotional realism, tragic beauty, and quiet human stories that never fade.

The fireflies glow briefly before dying, and that image haunts the entire film. Seita and Setsuko exist in the margins of a country at war, invisible until they’re already gone. The film opens with Seita’s death, and everything that follows is memory, a ghost recounting the slow unravelling of his and his sister’s world. There’s no comfort here, no miraculous salvation, just two children trying to hold onto innocence whilst the world collapses around them. The horror isn’t in monsters or spirits; it’s in the quiet, inevitable tragedy of lives discarded by war.

When Marnie Was There (2014): Echoes Across Time

A lonely girl with asthma is sent to the countryside, where she befriends a mysterious blonde girl living in an abandoned mansion by the marsh.

Anna Sasaki sleeping on the grass in a forest at night, from When Marnie Was There by Studio Ghibli. A boy lies on the ground in a forest area, looking peaceful yet vulnerable, surrounded by greenery and shadows, suggesting a moment of stillness and introspection.

Spooky vibe: Liminal spaces, ghostly friendships, and the blurred line between memory and reality.

Best watched when: The twilight hour stretches long and you’re in the mood for something achingly tender.

For those who love: Gothic mysteries, lonely heroines, and stories that unravel slowly.

Anna finds Marnie in a house that shouldn’t be occupied, at times that don’t quite make sense. Their friendship feels urgent, secretive, as if it exists in a pocket of time that could collapse at any moment. The marsh floods and recedes, the mansion shifts between decay and elegance, and Anna can’t quite grasp whether Marnie is real or something else entirely. The film unravels like a mystery, each revelation pulling you deeper into Anna’s isolation and the strange, melancholic bond she forms with a girl who may already be gone. It’s a ghost story, but the haunting is gentle, wrapped in warmth and longing.

Whisper of the Heart (1995): The Baron’s Silent Gaze

A bookish girl follows a mysterious boy to an antique shop, where a cat figurine called the Baron seems to watch her with knowing eyes.

A stylized anthropomorphic cat wearing a suit and bowtie stands in front of a backdrop of delicate flowers and foliage, exuding an air of whimsy and elegance.

Spooky vibe: Dreamlike sequences, enchanted objects, and the unsettling feeling that stories might be alive.

Best watched when: You’re wide awake at midnight, pen in hand, chasing a story that won’t let you sleep.

For those who love: Writerly magic, strange antiques, and the thin line between inspiration and obsession.

Shizuku’s journey isn’t overtly supernatural, but there’s something otherworldly in the way the Baron draws her in. The antique shop feels like a place out of time, filled with objects that carry histories she can’t quite read. Her story-within-a-story blurs the line between reality and imagination, and as she writes, the Baron comes to life in her mind, guiding her through a world of castles and quests. The film captures the eerie solitude of creation, the way stories can consume you, and the fear that what you’re making might not be good enough. It’s a different kind of haunting, one that lives in self-doubt and late-night inspiration.

The Quiet Unease of Ghibli Magic

A whimsical and slightly eerie view from a fantastical moving castle, overlooking a lush green valley with a winding river and misty clouds.

Whether you prefer haunted bathhouses or cursed forests, Ghibli’s spooky charm lies in its subtlety. It’s the feeling of something ancient brushing past, not a monster lurking behind. These films don’t rely on jump scares or gore; instead, they plant a sense of unease that grows slowly, rooted in folklore, transformation, and the knowledge that not all spirits are friendly, and not all magic comes without cost.

There’s something uniquely comforting about Ghibli’s approach to the eerie. The spirits aren’t always malevolent, the curses aren’t always permanent, and even in the darkest moments, there’s a thread of hope or at least understanding. These films remind us that fear and wonder often exist in the same space, and sometimes the most haunting stories are the ones that feel like they could be real.

Why Ghibli’s Quiet Eeriness Feels Timeless

A serene illustration of a charming wooden house surrounded by lush greenery and a tranquil pond, evoking a magical and peaceful atmosphere. Studio Ghibli Spooky Movies

Studio Ghibli has always understood that the most affecting horror doesn’t announce itself with fanfare. It seeps in slowly, through a glance from a masked figure, the silence of an empty forest, or the creeping realisation that a character has been changed in ways they can’t undo. These films don’t need to be loud because their unease is rooted in something older: folklore, memory, and the uncomfortable truth that the world is stranger and more fragile than we’d like to believe.

These films endure because they capture something primal, that quiet unease when you’re alone in the woods at dusk or when you catch movement in your peripheral vision and turn to find nothing there. Ghibli reminds us that the uncanny doesn’t have to be violent to be powerful. Sometimes, it’s just a girl losing her name, a forest god meeting its end, or a friendship that exists outside of time.

Which Ghibli film gives you the best chills?

Drop your answer in the comments. I’d love to know which moments have stayed with you long after the screen faded to black.