In the realm of animation, certain names carry the weight of magic and wonder, and among them stands Hayao Miyazaki. Renowned for his captivating storytelling and distinctive artistry, the master of Japanese animation seemed to have bid farewell with the release of “The Wind Rises” in 2013. A semi-autobiographical tale, it was a fitting swansong for the filmmaker, weaving a tapestry of personal and emotional narratives that marked the seemingly final chapter of an illustrious career. But as though summoned back to the directorial canvas, the 83-year-old auteur has returned with a film that recaptures the unique charm that fans across the globe have come to associate with his name.
“The Boy and the Heron” serves as a testament to Miyazaki’s undying creative spirit, reaffirming that despite the strides made in animation technology and the emergence of worthy protégés from Studio Ghibli’s hallowed walls, his vision remains unparalleled. The film revisits a cherished motif in Miyazaki’s repertoire – the innocence of childhood limned against the somber tapestry of war. The protagonist, a grief-stricken child, is thrust Alice-like into a realm of wonders and dangers, with Miyazaki’s narrative indulgence guiding us full-hearted into this other world.
We meet the young Mahito Maki amidst the turbulences of 1940s Japan, bearing the weight of wartime woes. Voiced by the talented Soma Santoki, Mahito’s narrative begins amid tragedy, with his mother perishing in a hospital fire ignited by bombing raids over Tokyo. Mahito’s father, linked to the war effort through his work at a fighter plane factory, marries his deceased wife’s sister Natsuko, voiced by Yoshino Kimura. Mahito, transplanted to a rural estate and battling nocturnal visions of his mother’s death, faces his new life and inner demons secluded under the care of Natsuko and a comical assembly of contentious elderly maidservants.
The narrative incorporates autobiographical flashes – Miyazaki’s own father was involved in aircraft manufacture, and his childhood, too, was shadowed by fires and the dread of conflict. Contrasting these real-world echoes, the film introduces a fantastical element in the form of a speaking heron. Masaki Suda lends his voice to this massive, enigmatic creature which lures Mahito toward a dilapidated tower harboring secrets and gateways to another universe. This venture promises not only the surreal solace that his mother might still be alive but also becomes a rescue mission as Natsuko vanishes, intensifying the stakes and the enchantment.
As expected from a Studio Ghibli offering, the film is populated with a menagerie of the imaginary: fire maidens, carnivorous parakeets, and the ethereal Warawara, rivaling Ghibli’s most spellbinding creations. These beings accompany Mahito – and the audience – through a series of surreal trials, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy, a conflation reflected in the film’s storytelling technique.
Support for this otherworldly adventure is provided by a stellar voice cast, which includes the likes of Luca Padovan, Robert Pattinson, Christian Bale, and Gemma Chan in the English-language version. The auditory experience is further elevated by the harmonious orchestration of Joe Hisaishi, Miyazaki’s long-time musical collaborator. While the unbridled flow of ideas may dazzle, they also disorient; one might feel whisked from marvel to marvel with scarce a moment for contemplation, somewhat diverting from the lucid narrative precision of Miyazaki’s earlier works such as “My Neighbour Totoro” or “Spirited Away.”
However, one ponders if this whirlwind of experiences is deliberate, echoing the film’s original title, “How Do You Live?” – derived from Genzaburō Yoshino’s 1937 novel beloved by the director. Throughout, the film seems to prompt both its protagonist and viewers with this query, probing the means of reconciling with loss and comprehending grief that defies shared understanding. “The Boy and the Heron” leaves audiences to wrestle with these elusive answers, as Mahito discovers multifaceted truths about love, family, and bereavement.
Whether moviegoers will likewise find fresh interpretations of life’s intricate questions is left to individual journeys. As it stands, “The Boy and The Heron” is gracing cinema screens now, inviting admirers of English cinema, cartoons and animation, world cinema, and particularly Japan’s animated arts to once more hear Miyazaki’s wonderous call.
