Hayao Miyazaki, the backbone of Studio Ghibli, has been attempting retirement for several decades now, and each time he has failed. However with Miyazaki breaching his 80’s, and equally as addicted to cigarettes as to work, The Boy and the Heron is likely to be the last film produced by the studio under his name – for real this time. While Miyazaki’s renowned status means that the film will be hailed as a masterpiece no matter what, the emotional anticipation of the curtain-close is immense, and so too is the pressure. This is especially true for fans who have grown up with Studio Ghibli and its cast of weird and wonderful characters.
“If I were to describe this film in a single line it would be: Spirited Away on shrooms.”
I had the profound luck to view the film in France a month ahead of the release in Ireland, set for St. Stephen’s Day. I noted that the audience comprised all generations, an impressive feat. Groups of schoolchildren babbled in excited French, thrilled to have been excused from their lessons for an excursion considered all the more cultivating. However, as the film commenced and the plot progressed, the excitement was soon replaced by confusion, and understandably so. There were desperate exclamations of ‘Qu’est-ce qui se passe?’, quickly hushed by anxious guardians who I doubt could have provided any clarity anyways. Indeed my friends and I re-emerged into the bustling streets of Paris quite discombobulated, with such a multitude of questions that we were unsure where to begin our dissection.
If I were to describe this film in a single line it would be: Spirited Away on shrooms. It shares many traits with the Oscar-winner: worlds layered on top of each other, and a pre-teen protagonist, Mahito, who is simultaneously passive and courageous in the face of chaos. The premise of the plot is Mahito’s adjusting to a new home in the countryside upon his father’s remarriage. This takes place four years after the death of Mahito’s mother in a fire during the Second World War. It seems that Miyazaki has imbued his newest protagonist with some of his own personal traumas. The director has disclosed that many of his earliest memories feature bombed-out Japanese cities, reminiscent of those in the film’s opening scene. In spite of the idyllic countryside scenery, Mahito continues to grapple with the past, repeatedly dreaming of his mother’s pained cries for help. While this alone could suffice for plot, the story expands from here. And expands…and expands…
“The scope of the film is unprecedented; extremely ambitious. It is a journey into the treasure trove of brilliance which is Miyazaki’s mind.”
The scope of the film is unprecedented; extremely ambitious. It is a journey into the treasure trove of brilliance which is Miyazaki’s mind. Pelicans swarm an abandoned island, towers of balancing blocks dictate the stability of worlds, sprites dance in the night sky before becoming human. Identities are ever-shifting, both on a surface level, with subtle frame-by-frame alterations in the animation style of characters, as well as in a deeper sense. At a certain point, the storyline seems entirely lost, and all one can do is accept this and take a back-seat to admire the scenery. Indeed, one of my friends took this up a notch by actually falling asleep. However, the ambivalence of the plot comes as no surprise, being a prominent motif of Studio Ghibli films as a whole. Miyazaki himself makes no claim to logic, preaching that to adhere to such confines of plot is to sacrifice creativity. Nothing is ever black-and-white in these films, with seemingly villainous characters consistently revealed to be harmless at heart, merely swayed to evil-doing by selfishness or grief. This multidimensional nature of Ghibli characters contests the Good/Bad dichotomy often present in Western animation. Miyazaki’s nuanced rendering of humanity may be confusing at times, but it is also a truer reflection of the real world.
“Miyazaki himself makes no claim to logic, preaching that to adhere to such confines of plot is to sacrifice creativity. Nothing is ever black-and-white in these films, with seemingly villainous characters consistently revealed to be harmless at heart, merely swayed to evil-doing by selfishness or grief.”
It must be said that for certain viewers, and particularly fans of simpler, more domestic-oriented Ghibli films such as Whisper of the Heart, the film in its gnomic plot may prove somewhat of a let-down. This is no ‘wholesome’ film. It is laced with moments of violence, even gore, which have necessitated a PG-13 rating. There are mildly terrifying scenes, mostly involving birds, carnivorous and en masse. I would even go so far as saying that Miyazaki may be held responsible for inducing a generational increase in cases of ornithophobia. In the English dub, Robert Pattinson, ever on a quest to extend his record-breakingly vast catalogue of bizarre roles, is to voice the titular heron. I know that, personally, this alone is enough to warrant a second trip to the cinema this December. The timing of the Irish release, within those strange few disorientating days which hover between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, seems quite fitting.
While the verdict among my friends and I was somewhat uncertain, arising from our inability to resolve the many anomalies of plot, as well as a loss of consciousness in one case, the film is still worthy of being hailed as a masterpiece. Better yet, as one critic put it, it is ‘a tool to heal our collective souls.’ The images of The Boy and the Heron are indelible, and are sure to infiltrate the dreams of many of those Parisien schoolchildren for years to come.
WORDS: Evelyn Doyle
