The Boy and the Heron
Given that expectations were through the roof and approaching the upper atmosphere, I couldn't help but feel let down solely due to the fact that I wasn't immediately ready to proclaim this a staggering masterpiece the second it ended. Make no mistake, it is a very good movie and clearly one that only Miyazaki could make, but I wouldn't put it in the upper tier of his past works. Despite being distinctly beautiful (as all Miyazaki movies are) and once again playing in a more adult, dark fantasy sandbox that I prefer, the allegorical/symbolic elements get packed into such a density that they overwhelm any emotional connection, making for a intellectually fascinating but somewhat unrewarding experience.
Set in 1943 during the Pacific War, 12-year-old Mahito loses his mother in a fire and is forced to the countryside with his father, who has remarried his late wife's younger sister Natsuko. They all live on a charming estate with several old maids, who dote on Mahito as he struggles to adapt to the new town and is still having nightmares about his mother's death. Mahito is bizarrely pursued by an aggressive heron, who leads Mahito to discover a decaying tower in the woods that was built by his great-uncle, a famous architect who mysteriously disappeared. The heron speaks and tells Mahito that his mother is still alive, and he must enter the tower to save her. The maids tell Mahito to stay away, but once the pregnant Natsuko disappears into the tower one night, Mahito decides he must enter, finding himself in a surreal world of magic full of all kinds of strange creatures.
This is a classic Miyazaki setup which gives him plenty of room to do what he does best: create and fill in a beautifully strange fantasy world populated with heroes, villains, and cute little critters. Once Mahito enters the tower, I was rapt; there's nothing better than exploring Miyazaki's wonderful worlds, bursting with creative ideas and charmingly strange people/animals/animal people. The animation is as lush and colorful as we've come to expect from Studio Ghibli. The movie is happy to luxuriate in this space for quite a long time (probably too long for some people) without much of a clear purpose, which quite frankly, I was okay with.
It's the movie's latter stages where things start to get murky, as the plot suddenly becomes so convoluted that it's hard to figure out everyone's motivations. Mahito eventually meets his missing great-uncle, who rules over this magical world like some kind of grand wizard. Every interaction with the Grand Uncle is dripping with allegory, seemingly meant to be Miyazaki himself as he looks back on all that he's created and hoping Mahito (Miyazaki's own son?) will carry on his work for him once he's gone. The resolution of that particular story element is certainly food for thought when considering Miyazaki's real-life relationship with his son Goro (who is also a filmmaker at Studio Ghibli that has famously begun to turn away from hand-drawn animation under the Ghibli banner). There will be plenty of speculation about this, as well what the other groups of creatures represent within the magical world. This is all thematic material that is very interesting to consider, but most of it comes on a little too thick, too late in the movie, almost becoming a distraction and ultimately creating a rather abrupt ending that lands a bit flat.
You can forgive Miyazaki for preferring self-reflection towards the end of such a long and illustrious career. It's clearly a deeply personal project meant to look back and say goodbye to all he has created and reflect on choosing to create on his own terms rather than pursue power or comfort, even if that causes pain or hurt. There are plenty of odes to his previous movies, visually or otherwise, making for a fitting end (if it is one) to an unmatched career.
There will never be another like Hayao Miyazaki and we are all better for having "The Boy and the Heron," even if it feels a little unfocused compared to Miyazaki at his best. If this is to be his final movie, it's satisfying to know that he did things on his own terms until the end, never compromising on his vision, his values, or his commitment to hand-drawn animation. We are lucky to have his art in the world.
