I had never seen a Hayao Miyazaki film, and when I heard about “The Boy and the Heron,” I was quite intrigued. The talk was everywhere.
I immediately looked it up on Wikipedia to see what the fuss was all about. It turns out, there’s a decades-long track record of studios making these amazingly well-received, hand-drawn films that provide a unique experience of life with humans, animals, and all mystical creatures. “That was it,” I thought. If I had to begin with Studio Ghibli and Miyazaki’s films, I’d do it exactly as I did with Tarantino: watch a film in a cinema first. What happened next is what this article is about. Less likely to be a review and more likely to be an experience. Although it might include spoilers, readers beware!
Without even watching the trailer, I prepared myself for what I believed was going to be yet another grand cinematic experience (I can’t blame myself; this year’s really been rewarding with all the legendary filmmakers putting out their best films, and it’s only May so far!), and what happened was… well, how do I put it? Not as I expected.
The film starts slowly during the Pacific War, as it takes time to build upon a fire sequence, and Mahito, our protagonist, runs towards it to save his mother. But he is unable to. That sets the stage for his arc of grief. Mahito’s father, Shoichi, an air munitions factory owner, marries his late wife’s sister, Natsuko, and they evacuate to her rural estate.
Here, Mahito encounters a peculiar gray heron leading him to a sealed tower, the last known location of Natsuko’s architect granduncle. He still hasn’t accepted Natsuko as his mother yet. He is distant. One day, Natsuko goes missing, and so Mahito, in search of her, follows the path to the tower, eventually finding the heron and letting it guide the way forward.
Then there is a beautiful magical world with talking creatures who are both beautiful and scary, and in this journey itself, Mahito heals himself. The film is simple, but the symbolism and the space make it even more special. The film feels reminiscent of a dream. Every frame made me feel as if I existed in that space, within those landscapes, with those creatures. Maybe only in a dream because, as a child, I grew up watching Japanese animations like Doraemon, Shin-chan, Kitretsu, etc. This film hence feels too personal for me as much as it was for Miyazaki, as I found out during my research for the film as to how similar his life’s experiences were with the film.
Natsuko’s house is beautiful. Too perfect. A big home surrounded by lush greenery that has a pond? How do I get myself a house like that? The film is immensely beautiful with amazingly hand-drawn frames, which I heard took about seven years to finish! The most expensive film in Japan! The opening scene where Mahito is running towards the fire and the one where he shoots an arrow might be my most favorite animated shots ever made.
It’s relieving to see such a big risk pay off so well! I’m a big fan of hand-drawn animated films that make me dive into the 1940s era of animation, like Alice in Wonderland and Cinderella, along with recent ones like Loving Vincent. It was an amazing experience to see a fully hand-drawn film on the big screen, and it would be awesome to have more of such on the big screen yet again.
Mahito’s companionship with Kiriko and Himi was amazing to experience, especially in the end when Mahito warns her of her fate, but Himi returns to her own time without regrets.
The great-grandfather is an interesting character. With him trying to find the right balance and wanting Mahito to continue the custodianship of the hidden world, Mahito notices that the blocks are infused with malice. Waking up, he is freed from captivity by Birdman. They climb the tower to pursue the Parakeet King, who is delivering Himi to the wizard as a political bargaining chip. The wizard has collected replacement blocks free of malice for Mahito and implores him to build a better world with them, but Mahito states that he himself possesses malice, embodied by his self-inflicted scar. He refuses, saying that he must first embrace those who love him.
The scene with the pelicans, I believe, is the deepest addition to the film. At first, we see them as evil, soul-devouring beings, only to realize that they don’t really have a choice; they’re just hungry and trying to survive. I find such duality very interesting.
Now here’s the one thing I feel I wasn’t entirely satisfied with during my first watch, but something that I will be thinking about over a period of time, the Parakeet King. I didn’t quite feel that what he did was matching the flow of the story, although I do understand the philosophy behind it. I see them as critics who try to think they’re better than the storytellers themselves because they know how stories work. I haven’t made my peace with that bit entirely where the king tries to build a better world himself, but the stack is too unstable and falls. It felt like a rush, but yes, the overall philosophy that both good and evil are required to maintain a balance was beautiful, yin and yang, something even I believe in.
I was expecting a fun film with emotional elements, but instead, I was presented with a film that made me think. Even as I left the theatre, I found myself in conversation about the film’s true meaning with my friends as well as the people sitting around me at the screening. I couldn’t have asked for anything more. This film isn’t entirely in my comfort zone, and I prefer it that way! Especially if it is a conversation starter, which, “The Boy and the Heron,” definitely is!
Overall, I’d say this was a great introduction for me to Hayao’s world, and I would love to revisit this film in theaters as well as along the way while watching the rest of his films. I’d rate this film a 4.5/5 for all the amazing performances and beautiful animation and the beautiful story that it has.
