The Boy and the Heron - Review: A Work Of Art That Truly Soars

 

Note: this review was based on a viewing of the Japanese language version

There’s an argument to be made that animation is a medium for those whose minds and hearts overflow. They simply cannot express their feelings or emotions through traditional, real world means, and therefore must lose themselves in the worlds of paint and ink, moving at twenty-four-frames-per-second to craft some kind of magical land unlike our own. And sometimes those other magical lands are the best ways to communicate some of life’s harshest lessons or emotions. No one knows that better than Hayao Miyazaki (“Spirited Away,” “Howl’s Moving Castle”) and nowhere does he prove it more so than with his latest, “The Boy and the Heron.”

In the spirit of the film’s release in Japan, this review will be detailing zero information on the plot itself. It’s a perfect way to discuss the film actually, as the plot exists merely as a vehicle to communicate the atmosphere and themes that Miyazaki is interested in touching upon. There are a handful of mainstays from his past films, such as a child in need of a coming-of-age journey, familial strife, and fantastic creatures sanding down their rough edges. But there’s a profound air of melancholy to everything as well that makes it all feel rather refreshing.

The vocal cast excels. Soma Santoki (“Cube (2021)”) voices Mahito, the titular “boy” and his rapport with Masaki Suda (“Wilderness,” “My Little Monster”), who voices the titular Heron, is nothing short of fantastic. The pair have an energy and flow that develops throughout the film into a truly special odd couple-esque pairing. Aimyon, voicing Lady Himi, adds a delightfully childish bit of mischief to the film that still manages to hit the deeply emotional moments, and Yoshino Kimura (“Shitsurakuen,” “Orochi: Blood”), voicing Natsuko, is arguably the standout of the entire film, with a gruff and lovable persona that’s hard not to find endearing.

There’s no lack of whimsy and artistry on display, and all of the typical Ghibli touches are on full display. Each frame practically bursts with energy and wonder that no other animation studio around the globe has managed to match. The tiniest of details are blown out to staggering degrees, whether it’s the subtle shiftings of a character’s appearance or the wonderful globs of tears or water that flow in any number of scenes.

And yet, there is a profound sense of longing at the center of it all. Mahito is on a journey of discovery in more ways than one, and at numerous points he’s confronted with the staggering beauty and loneliness of this world. Characters meet and then split apart at barely a moments notice, and it becomes a fascinatingly melancholy film as it continues. Moments of gorgeous handmade art are juxtaposed by a true sense of aching sadness. It creates a palpable sense of emotion that feels utterly unique and devastating.

It’s the kind of movie not burdened by the constraints of plot, and while there is an overarching goal and momentum from the story, often times it feels as though Miyazaki is less concerned with how A connects with B and moreso with the energy of the world he’s crafting. This does mean that, like with most Ghibli films, the first act drags for just a bit as all of the gorgeous dominos are being set up. But when things take off, led by Joe Hisaishi’s (“Spirited Away,” “Princess Mononoke”) genuinely breathtaking musical score, you easily become lost in this world.

As things begin to end, it’s not hard to see Miyazaki trying to tell us all something about the world we live in, especially the children. Mahito is just fifteen years old, and a large part of the film is the journey of a young boy trying to find his place in a world full of war and malice. Compared to his previous film, “The Wind Rises”, this is a far simpler tale that harkens back to Miyazaki’s adventure roots in films like “My Neighbor Totoro” or “Spirited Away”, where the film wasn’t about recounting events or telling a grand plot, but rather a young person going on a fantastical adventure. It’s not subtle in its depictions of childhood innocence and thought versus an adult perspective on the world. Miyazaki has always been one who believes in the youth and here is his most nakedly honest version of that belief.

Call it hyperbole, but when a film can move you to tears numerous times based on just the beauty on display, there’s something otherworldly and impossible to define about it. Miyazaki has retired before, and we don’t know when or if his next film will come. But if this possibly stands as his last, then it’s a magnum opus, a textbook example of his artistic choices and favorite themes. It’s a visual feast and fever dream and work of pure artistry and deeply moving and a melancholic delight and the kind of film you feel special getting to witness for the very first time. 5/5