Review - The Boy and the Heron
Directed by: Hayao Miyazaki
Written by: Hayao Miyazaki
Starring: Soma Santoki, Masaki Suda
Running Time: 124 minutes
Rating: 4/5
A decade ago, 2013 found me working at a movie theatre, excited at the opportunity to grab free tickets to watch what we thought was Miyazaki’s swan song. The Wind Rises was Miyazaki’s reflective final piece of art, we assumed. His last chance to speak to an attentive audience. It seemed he had much to say about dreams, the corruption of them and the beauty of flying above our dreams.
About 10 years later, here we are again, reviewing what is being presented as Miyazaki’s new swan song. It seems, the Japanese director still has more to say. And why shouldn’t he? The world continues to change. The landscape has shifted fundamentally around us and Miyazaki isn’t blind to it.
His latest film starts us off in familiar Ghibli territory: alarms blazing, ashes falling from the sky, a building in the distance on fire. War once again in the background. In many ways, however, that’s where the familiar ends. The latest effort from Studio Ghibli is undoubtedly their most beautiful film in ages, and shows what it’s like when an animation studio challenges themselves to reach the apex of their field. They have reinvented and perfected their techniques: the new fire scenes look nothing like the Calcifer scenes of yore. At times they’re able to display a groundbreaking marriage of 3D and traditional hand-drawn animation (an invitation or challenge to other studios to match their quality). Their worlds have always excelled at feeling live in but the attention to detail and care being placed into things like gravity or weight drag the audience into the world immediately.
In the case of The Boy and the Heron the ability to portray the more mundane elements like weight or gravity because extremely important in juxtaposition, as much of Mahito’s journey is an exploration in the fantastical in ways we haven’t seen since Spirited Away. The lead character ventures into an underworld of sorts, a world where death and life are nebulous concepts in hopes of bringing someone back. The Dante-ian gates they travel through come with a familiar inscription: “Fecemi la Divina Potestate.” Divine power made me.
A through-line of the film is the reflection on grief, on processing what we’ve lost. The 82-year-old director has much wisdom to impart on this topic, of course. Few understand what death robs from us like Miyazaki. Studio Ghibli's exploration of these themes is a testament to their commitment to creating thought-provoking and emotionally resonant cinema. The death scene in the beginning is repeated throughout the film and is reframed as painful first, then powerful, and almost beautiful when a phoenix-like rebirth becomes possible. A woman is no longer consumed by flames, but rather becomes one with them.
Fire, of course, is just another side of nature. A natural part of the world around us, and the Japanese studio has always been renowned for its profound appreciation of nature. From lush forests of Princess Mononoke to the idyllic countryside of My Neighbor Totoro, Ghibli's animation beautifully captures the essence of the natural world. But where The Boy and the Heron is able to stand apart is in making nature an indomitable force, overwhelming the character and the film with the chaotic power of nature. It's not just about the stunning visuals, but also the deep respect and reverence for the environment that permeates their storytelling.
At its core, The Boy and the Heron is concerned with the legacy the famous director and his body of work will leave behind. But instead of highlighting the importance of hopes and dreams, Miyazaki has a more proactive call to action for the youth. Take ownership of the world around you and make it as beautiful as you can, free it from the corruption of the previous generations.
It’s near impossible to look at the world around us and not understand why Miyazaki needed to come back one last time.
