Ankit Ojha said in his review, “Mahito, experiencing
whiplash from being uprooted both emotionally and physically from his
previously idyllic life, stays distant from his stepmother—whom he still
addresses as his aunt—but any attempt to acclimatize in his new environment is
consistently interrupted by the presence of a grey heron who takes a keen
interest in—and continues to stalk and harass—him.” The heron, voiced by Robert
Pattinson, he finds out, can talk and raises his subject of interest to a rundown
mansion after Natsuko goes missing. Transported to a strange sea world, Mahito must
find Natsuko before time runs out and he’s caught by a flock of power – and human
– hungry parakeets.
The fact that the narrative of “The Boy and the Heron”
plays with the rules of fantasy isn’t new for its director, Miyazaki’s strong
understanding of worldbuilding makes the sea world simultaneously incredible,
terrifying, and alive. Ojha said, “Led by Ghibli regular Joe Hisaishi’s (“The
Tale of the Princess Kaguya,” 2014) sweeping compositions for its soundtrack,
every frame of the director’s latest evokes boundless beauty.” Its seven-year-long
production process – because of the pandemic and workflow-related delays –
feels sharp, but the visually beautiful finished film more than justifies how
its makers chose to create it. According to its studio’s co-founder Toshio
Suzuki, it was a process “without a deadline,” and “cost more than the
production of (any other Japanese film) ever made.”
Unlike the light touch of the director’s previous
fantastical endeavors in “Spirited Away” and “Ponyo,” “The Boy and the Heron”
is a considerably darker film. Ojha said, “Mahito’s entire existence is
uprooted before he’s able to process the loss of his parent, and his inability
to let go is what forms a lot of its thematic undertone, echoing the almost
dogged stubbornness of the man we’ll only call The Tower Master (Mark Hamill)
for now. Not that there aren’t any moments or visual depictions of levity; the
Warawara (Karen Takizawa)—essentially cute sentient white blobs that form the
Japanese version of the storks-fly-down-and-give-you-babies fable—are adorable
enough to make even the stone-hearted weep.” (That, and every bird in “the real
world” actually defecates everywhere. On coats, on people, on window sills, you
name it).
Ojha noted, “Miyazaki goes all out here, though—to the
point that the filmmaking can sometimes feel a bit esoteric—which is part of
the charm instead of a crutch. There’s a palpably personal story at play that,
while accessible to children, isn’t the kind of typical fare made for kids,
even for Ghibli. The introduction of the grey heron is deeply unsettling, and
both hearing and watching the bird speak in a sinister, gruff tone, but
possibly the most significant threats in the narrative of “The Boy and the
Heron” come from the anthropomorphic man-eating parakeet kingdom, whose
power-hungry ruler and his subjects are still viewed in a sympathetic light.” Their
decisions come mainly from the determination to survive in a world alien to
them in the best way possible.
Played with a type of authority, Dave Batista is excellent
even though his character’s really small appearance in the film’s runtime, but,
like with a lot of the film’s characters around its main people – and there are
a lot – everyone has their place and time. No character’s presence in the movie
is for the sake of appearing. Karen Fukuhara, who voiced Lady Himi, is very
good and is supported by her character’s fiery determination and vocal
chemistry with Padovan – with whom she shares the most time as a voice actor. Probably
the most memorable change comes from Pattinson, who is surprisingly good as the
grey heron, a sneaky, often uncomfortable personality who often begrudgingly
ends up doing the right thing in the duration of the film.
The biggest problem of “The Boy and Heron” is not
really a problem – it has more to do with your expectations before seeing the
film. Ojha pointed out, “The existential undercurrent of the film echoes “The
Wind Rises,” while its violent tinge is less surreal, more visceral, a la
“Princess Mononoke.” If you walk in blind, the international English title, as
opposed to the original Japanese “How Do You Live?” gives off the vibe of a fun
fantasy that could involve the boy and the heron going on an adventure
together.” That’s not completely false, a rewatch could significantly help you
refocus on the reality of its narrative’s text as opposed to how the film made
you think the first time – if you were looking for something more lighthearted.
Ojha noted, “(Now, whether its English title had
anything to do with “The Boy and the Heron” topping the box-office charts in
cinemas across the United States and Canada, one can’t say, but this writer can
only hope it revitalizes Studio Ghibli and encourages the company—and, more
importantly, Miyazaki himself—to make more 2D hand-drawn works of art).”
“The Boy and Heron” is a great return to form for both
Studio Ghibli and Miyazaki. While its director’s trademarks of high-fantasy and
visual artistry, along with Hisaishi’s great soundtrack, work, it is his deeply
personal touch and constant determination to explore the darkest holes of loss,
the inability to let go and the painful road to acceptance that make it his
greatest achievement. Perfectly written, beautifully animated, and emotionally inspiring,
Miyazaki has made another film for the time you need to see on Max to believe.
This is a nice return from Studio Ghibli after taking nearly
a decade off from filmmaking. If you’re a Ghibli fan, then you should see this
on Max because it is one for everyone. This is not one of the best, but it is
still a good one to check out. Fortunately, this is not one of those sad films
like “Grave of the Fireflies,” which makes it difficult to watch and you can’t
see it after one viewing. This can be rewatched. However, it’s like Hitchcock’s
“The Birds,” where certain birds scenes are very scary, so be forewarned.
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