Four stars. Rated PG, for dramatic intensity and scary moments
By Derrick Bang
It’s extraordinarily difficult to
replicate the look, atmosphere and ambiance of an entirely difficult culture,
and yet the Oregon-based Laika animation studio has done just that, with Kubo and the Two Strings.
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| With a rather large monster preparing to stomp and/or devour them, Kubo is stunned into temporary immobility. Fortunately, Monkey and Beetle are better prepared for action ... as also is true of the tiny origami samurai warrior perched on Kubo's shoulder. |
Director Travis Knight and a trio
of writers — Shannon Tindle, Marc Haimes and Chris Butler — have concocted what
feels like an authentic Japanese folk tale, laced with fantastic characters and
a little boy who is, himself, a purveyor of stories. The stop-motion animation
style will be recognized by fans who adored previous Laika efforts, such as Coraline and ParaNorman, but in this case with an added twist: This new film’s
look is inspired by origami and classic Japanese woodblock printing.
The action takes place in a
colorful realm of rough-hewn sawtooth patterns, strong linear striations and
bold but simple colors, all inspired by the work of woodblock masters such as
Kiyoshi Saito and Katsushika Hokusai. The resulting texture — the apparent
“feel” of the images — is truly lovely, and unlike anything else we’ve seen
from today’s panoply of animation studios.
But of course style cannot be
paramount; it must serve the story. That’s absolutely the case here, as we
quickly become immersed in an otherworldly narrative with the mythic
authenticity of a Hayao Miyazaki fable.
“If you must blink, do it now,”
we’re cautioned, as this saga begins. “If you look away, even for an instant,
then our hero will surely perish.”
Kubo (voiced by Art Parkinson) is
a popular street urchin who lives near a fishing village in ancient Japan, and
survives by enchanting townspeople with wild tales of samurai warriors and
mythical creatures, all brought to life via origami figures created magically
when he plays a guitar-like shamisen. The coins collected are sufficient to buy
food and meager supplies for both Kubo and his mother; they live in a cave on a
high cliff that overlooks the vast ocean.
Kubo’s mother slips in and out of
awareness, suffering from trances that are governed by the rising and setting
of the moon. This condition has persisted ever since the perilous ocean journey
that brought her and the then-infant Kubo to this land. Worse yet, the boy is
missing his left eye, the orb — we’re told — having been plucked out by his
grandfather, the evil Moon King (Ralph Fiennes).
During her cognizant moments,
Kubo’s mother speaks lovingly of her absent husband, a warrior who lost his
life defending his family from the Moon King. And more than anything else, she
cautions, Kubo must never, ever linger outside after dark.
