In a nod to Mark Twain, who in 1897 was contacted by an English journalist responding to rumors of the author’s death— prompting Twain to reply, in part, “The report of my death was an exaggeration” — I viewed famed Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki’s announced retirement, upon completing 2013’s masterful The Wind Rises, with a raised eyebrow.
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| After discovering that a pesky heron actually is a dwarfish little man magically garbed like a bird, young Mahito grudgingly agrees to let this creature be his guide during an enchanted mission. |
And while this just-released new film also arrives with the renewed insistence that it will be Miyazaki’s swan song, I remain dubious. He’s “only” 82 years old, which — should he change his mind yet again — gives him plenty of time for at least one more.
All this said, The Boy and the Heron does have the somewhat somber atmosphere of a farewell: a summing-up of the autobiographical touches; Lewis Carroll-style mischief; dream-like confusion; colorful blends of wonder and danger; and gentle, real-world warnings that have been hallmarks in all of Miyazaki’s films.
On top of which, this new film is a treat for the senses: old-style, hand-drawn animation that dazzles in a manner CGI has yet to deliver. We marvel at the wind-blown sweep of tall grass in a massive field, the savory intensity of purple jam on bread — you’d swear we smell the fruit — and the palpable confusion of the story’s young protagonist, Mahito (voiced by Soma Santoki), as he plunges into a senses-confounding trip through a metaphorical looking-glass.
But that comes later. Miyazaki’s film opens on its most harrowing sequence, in the chaos of 1943’s war-time Tokyo. Mahito awakens late one night, to the scream of sirens and fluttering embers of ash filling the air, because a nearby hospital has been fire-bombed. Knowing that his mother, Hisako, is working a late shift there, the boy scrambles in panic — the “camera” following him suspensefully, as he races back and forth to his bedroom, initially having forgotten to dress — and then pursues equally alarmed neighbors, as they all rush toward the hospital.
Where Mahito is just in time to see his mother engulfed.
Except ... Hisako doesn’t seem to perish in the expected manner, instead somehow bonding with the flames.
A year passes. Mahito’s father — Shoichi (Takuya Kimura), a munitions factory owner — evacuates them to a countryside estate, where he has remarried his sister-in-law, Natsuko (Yoshino Kimura).
(Miyazaki was 3 years old when his family evacuated to Utsunomiya, and — after that city was bombed, in July 1945 — subsequently to Kanuma. No surprise: His earliest memories are of “bombed-out cities,” an image that has informed many of his films.)
Mahito remains grief-stricken: distant and stoic, even when in the presence of the estate’s lively septet of cackling “grannies” (wizened crones with overlarge heads, a longtime Miyazaki staple). He coldly rebuffs Natsuko’s efforts to bond with him; she’s soon bedridden by the final stages of pregnancy.
While returning from school one day — this classroom sequence needs better development — Mahito angrily smashes the side of his head with a rock: a wordless cry for help. Subsequent ministrations do little for his misery, which deepens further when he discovers a book that his mother left for him: the novel How Do You Live? (Miyazaki’s favorite childhood book).
This first act proceeds leisurely, and very slowly; Miyazaki overplays the unhurried pacing. We know something odd is coming, and become impatient for its arrival.
“Something odd” turns out to be a pesky heron that keeps flapping about, at one point — abruptly, startlingly — screeching “Your presence is requested.” Mahito somehow knows that he can gain power over this avian tormentor by making a bow, and fashioning an arrow guided by one of the bird’s discarded blue feathers (one of many, many details, contrivances and leaps of faith that Miyazaki’s script makes up, as needed; you gotta just roll with them).
Natsuko, meanwhile, has wandered into the nearby forest. (Why? Just ... because.)
Suddenly revealed as a cranky trickster figure in avian disguise, the heron (Masaki Suda) becomes an unenthusiastic companion and sorta-kinda guide when Mahito — reluctantly accompanied by Kiriko, one of the grannies — penetrates the mysterious, sealed-off tower at one edge of the estate.
And, quite suddenly, we’re whisked into a magic-laden realm, which — as was true of Carroll’s Wonderland — includes occasionally disturbing parallels to our real world.
The subsequent fantasy dump is overwhelming: massive flocks of vengeful, carnivorous pelicans; a younger, stronger version of Kiriko (Kô Shibasaki), who hunts giant fish in order to feed white, bulbous little warawara; Himi (Aimyon), a girl with fiery magical powers; a fascist platoon of giant, man-eating canaries; and Natsuko’s grand-uncle (Shôhei Hino), the venerable, powerful wizard who keeps this enchanted realm in “balance” (literally).
Mahito ostensibly has come to find and save his step-mother, which involves several detours, perils and setbacks. But this quest feels random; I miss the (comparatively) straightforward narrative that rendered young Chihiro’s determination to save her parents, in 2001’s Spirited Away, far more comprehensible. That film made sense; this one doesn’t.
As mentioned earlier, continuity also suffers, most notably after Mahito and Himi’s initial meeting with the Wizard. The two children depart that chamber quietly, and then — smash cut! — suddenly they’ve both been captured by the canaries. Himi is trapped within a glass case; Mahito is chained to a wall, while a canary chef sharpens a cleaver, intending to carve the boy for dinner. Clearly, some linking sequences are missing.
There’s a strong sense, during Mahito’s final encounter with the Wizard, that the latter stands in for Miyazaki. A subsequent “choice” feels like the filmmaker’s recognition that — no matter how much time he spends, while creating the fantasy landscapes of his many films — he must, ultimately, return to the grimmer reality of our mundane, often disappointing world: a comedown somewhat softened by the knowledge that it’s laden with the people who love him.
At best, this film is a glorious mess: a triumph of atmosphere and dazzling visuals over storytelling. Miyazaki’s die-hard faithful may find that sufficient...
...but I didn’t.
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