The Boy and the Heron review – Miyazaki’s last movie is a fitting swan song
Simonpillai in Toronto
The Guardian (USA) 09/9/2023
Purported to be the master Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki’s last movie, maybe, The Boy and the Heron is a gentler and slower though no less soulful addition to his canon. The film, about a young boy slipping like so many Miyazaki protagonists to a world unencumbered by mortality, takes its time to get going. Meanwhile, it’s preoccupied with those who have no time left.
It’s a fittingly solemn swan song for the 82-year-old film-maker who – with films like My Neighbor Totoro and Spirited Away – has taken us to magical worlds where human and animal anatomies are free to make exchanges while industry and nature become harmonious in ungodly ways. The catbus in Totoro always struck me as a cuddly response to a Cronenberg monster.
The Boy and the Heron, the director’s first feature since he last retired with 2013’s The Wind Rises, has all the Miyazaki hallmarks: the anthropomorphic animals, the tiny grannies with disproportionate facial features who can just as easily be magical creatures and a tempting food scene – animated jam looks ready to drip off the screen. Miyazaki has few surprises left, but in The Boy and the Heron, it’s the familiar that feels like a comforting hug.
The film is already a box office hit in Japan, where it was released in July with no advance promotion – as if in secret. The Japanese title is How Do
You Live?, taken from Genzaburo Yoshino’s 1937 novel. Yohino’s book appears in The Boy and The Heron, a text the film’s young protagonist Mahito (Soma Santoki), who is somewhat inspired by Miyazaki himself, picks up and reads during a pivotal moment.
The film gets going with an evocative, harrowing and dream-like cold open. Sirens breaking the silence at the dead of night before ashes and embers float into the frame. It’s the second world war. A Tokyo hospital has been firebombed and Mahito realizes his mother is on shift. The frame captures his mad scramble to the hospital – legs flurrying like a spider’s – against the chilling stillness of the background. He arrives at a vision perhaps more spiritual than literal, as fire tears at his mother’s flesh, or at least peels at the ink that makes up her animated skin. What could be a horrifying sight is made comforting, as she’s not consumed by the flames so much as she becomes one with them.
A few years after the tragedy, Mahito moves to sprawling estate in the country, still crippled by grief. His father, who, like Miyazaki’s own, runs a factory producing aircraft parts, is newly married to his former sister-inlaw, who is expecting. Mahito struggles to settle in, not even warming up to the squadron of excitable grannies scurrying around the property, fawning over corned beef and canned salmon imported from the city, or that heron that creates a nuisance by the window.
The film lingers aimlessly here, completely unhurried, as if patience building while letting us sit in Mahito’s grief. Miyazaki tends to make movies about strong, fiery female characters, the types who appear in smaller roles in The Boy and the Heron. Mahito, the rare male protagonist, is purposefully lifeless, his glazed-over reserve keeps things emotionally cold. Only the mischievous granny keeping things amusing alongside that pesky heron, with human teeth and gums garishly protruding from its beak as it beckons towards something beyond.
Eventually Mahito is tempted to search for his late mother in a tower protruding from the earth, which is a portal to the alternate worlds we sign up for in Miyazaki films. There we find a shipwreck so overgrown with moss and fern it has become an inhabited island that hosts a whole circle of life. A Moby Dick-sized catfish is gutted and consumed by little pillowy white creatures called warawara. They will transcend and become people in another dimension, if they’re not first mauled by starving pelicans. As usual for Miyazaki, the graceful and grotesque are mere brush strokes apart.
Miyazaki has explored grief and the afterlife in the past. He’s a film-maker that has been both haunted and at peace with such thoughts throughout his whole career, which is perhaps why every film is positioned as though it’s his last.
The Boy and The Heron is no exception. Though this is an uncommonly mature and joyous meditation on death and legacy, one that paints death as a new beginning, a transition to another time and place, where nothing actual seems final. For a film-maker like Miyazaki, that’s the perfect note to go out on.
The Boy and the Heron is screening at the Toronto film festival and will be released in the US on 8 December with a UK date to be announced
and they have finally got rid of Batfleck, a sense of doom is all around us. Comics legend Mark Millar has spoken about 2019’s Avengers: Endgame being the last great Marvel movie –what about Spider-Man: No Way Home or Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness? – while David Ayer went on record to discuss how having 2016’s Suicide Squad taken away from him by Warner Bros almost broke the up and coming filmmaker, while ruining his relationship with Hollywood.
Let’s listen to Millar first. “It was amazing in 1999 when Marvel cracked the code and made these things great,” the Scot tells the New York Times. “It wasn’t just that the technology caught up to the material – it was that the people who made these movies treated them with real dignity.”
Adds Millar: “Everything since then … I feel that the people involved haven’t loved the material the way that Sam Raimi loves Spider-Man, or Christopher Nolan [who] read 50 years worth of Batman comics before he started doing Batman.”
This is a comic book auteur who knows a thing or two about spiky invention, the creator of Kick-Ass, Wanted and Marvel’s Civil War. Millar is an ideas man, one with the ability to breathe life into an entire genre by viewing it through a skewed prism. While both
Wanted and Kick-Ass made it to the big screen, Hollywood has generally opted for a slightly more orthodox take on the whole superhero fandango, and yet it’s still intriguing to note that such a major player in the field reckons the clock stopped four years ago. Since then, Marvel has expanded on to the small screen via Disney+, refracted its initial linear storyline into a thousand multiversal realities and helped inspire Oscar-winning efforts such as Everything Everywhere All at Once. Yet according to Millar, it all stopped mattering the minute Iron Man sacrificed himself for the greater good in the finale of Endgame.
Ayer? The failure of Suicide Squad stands as an indictment of Hollywood’s hyperactive approach to film-making. This was a film-maker with nothing but positive notices in his wake prior to signing on to direct what was pitched as the ultimate bad guy movie. It had Will Smith as Deadshot – an actor with an almost supernatural ability (at the time) to rock up the box office billions – and Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn, during a period when you couldn’t have found an ingenue with more hype if twentysomething Lauren Bacall had suddenly stepped out of a time machine and made herself available for duties. Yet Warner, according to Ayer, panicked after the critical brickbats aimed at Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice and the adulation targeted towards the then-recently released Deadpool,
and (as was widely documented at the time) handed rewrite duties to the team who came up with the movie’s popular first trailer.
We may yet see Ayer’s darker, original version of the movie, though time has moved on and not every filmic revision has the impact of, say, the 1992 director’s cut of Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner. In the meantime, Marvel needs to find the next great superhero flick and hope that it reignites interest in the genre.
Is that movie Fantastic Four, now not due out until 2025 after writer’s strike delays, but still sitting pretty in the cosmic fantasy future, a sparkleeyed panacea primed to cure all superhero fatigue?
Previous big screen adaptations of the classic silver age comic book beloved of hippies and true believers alike would suggest that this is something of a minor effort in the pantheon. And yet, Marvel has pulled off similar tricks before – if you had told anyone back in 1999 that movies about Iron Man and Black Panther would one day gross more than $1bn each, they would have looked at you like you just stepped out of one of Doctor Strange’s mystical wormhole portals from the exotic land of Kamar-Taj. In terms of the history of comic books, this is one of the last remaining A-list properties to have never been brought effectively to the big screen. And Marvel now has the chance to succeed where previous rights holders 20th Century Studios so abominably failed.
The latest casting rumours suggest we might even be getting the luminous Vanessa Kirby as Sue Storm, with Josh Hartnett as Doctor Doom and Matt Smith or Adam Driver as Reed Richards, AKA Mister Fantastic. It could happen, and director Matt Shakman might just find a way to make this the most intriguing superhero movie since Endgame.
Then again, there’s a version of reality out there where superhero movies dwindle until they are, like the once great western, an occasional, whimsical fancy for niche audiences and historical specialists. The worry is that if even expert super-fans such as Millar and Ayer have lost faith – the former, to be fair, believes it is only a matter of time until the genre experiences a renaissance – it could be a long way back for Joe Public.
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