The Boy and the Heron (2023)

-Written by John Cajio.

I discovered the joys of classical music as a young boy. “The Planets” by English composer Gustav Holst, written between 1914 and 1917, quickly became a favorite work of mine. Consisting of seven movements—one for each planet known at the time except for Earth—the orchestral suite opens ominously and bombastically with “Mars, The Bringer of War” while concluding mysteriously, eerily, and softly (with two separate women’s choirs offstage as the stage door slowly closes on them) with “Neptune, The Mystic.” 

“The Planets” is still one of my favorite works for orchestra today, but my opinions of it have shifted as I’ve aged and lived with the music. When I was a young lad, my favorite movement was the opening movement about Mars: it was dark, heavy, visceral, and bombastic. It was heavy metal in orchestral form, and I was there for it. It really captured the essence of two armies meeting on the battlefield and engaging in violent combat, with one side seeming to have the advantage before momentum abruptly shifts to the other side. 

By the time I got to college, my favorite movement shifted to the fourth movement, “Jupiter, The Bringer of Jollity.” Full of life, vim, and vigor, the movement takes one on sweeping dances with quick and sudden shifts and styles. But the middle section of the movement is something else. A broad, simple, noble hymn tune starts in the strings and is played repeatedly, each time a little bigger and a little broader than before until the full might of the orchestra is brought to bear for one last play at the hymn that easily brings chills no matter how many times one hears it. 

Nowadays, however, the fifth movement, “Saturn, The Bringer of Old Age” is my favorite movement. Beginning sparsely with flutes, bassoons, and harps, the movement very slowly plods along as instruments add in over time. The first eighty percent of the movement seems to serve as a premonition of the physical and mental decay that oftentimes accompany old age. But the remainder of the movement represents a significant shift in tone as the movement now represents the wisdom of our elders that can only come from age and experience as they see things in a way that youth simply cannot. There is so much depth to explore with each listen. 

And so it is with Writer-Director Hayao Miyazaki’s latest film, The Boy and the Heron. The famed filmmaker gives us a story that is fairly simple on the surface: a boy, distraught over the sudden loss of his mother during the Tokyo firebombings discovers a mystical tower at his new home that transports him to a magical land. But there are so many layers to the film that only a master storyteller imbued with decades upon decades of life and work experience can provide such a deft combination of simplicity, accessibility, and complexity all at once. This is a masterful film that not only withstands multiple viewings, but demands it. It is a film with boundless depths. 

This is the best animation seen from Studio Ghibli. A common complaint I’ve had with many of their films is that the way they frequently infuse CGI elements is distracting. Perhaps not distracting enough to take away from the film’s overall greatness, but it is a distraction. Here, the infusion of CGI is no distraction at all. The fact that the studio operated without any deadlines in crafting this film allowed them to seamlessly blend together the hand drawn elements and the CGI elements. The result is a visually stunning film.

The art direction is equally terrific. The first act of the film takes place in World War II-era Japan, and it is wonderful to behold. But the real magic occurs when things shift to a more mystical world. When the lead of the movie, Mahito Maki (Soma Santoki/Luca Padovan), abruptly finds himself far away from home, the viewer is greeted with a landscape that is desolate, barren, and lonely. A mysterious golden gate guarding an equally mysterious dolmen can be seen a short distance away on a cape surrounded by vast seas. It evokes an ancientness, like it existed before time began and will continue to exist after time ends. It is also possessed of a stark beauty. I was immediately reminded of the land the player explores in the 2005 video game, Shadow of the Colossus.

The story and its themes are compelling. After the death of his mother, Mahito’s father (Takuya Kimura/Christian Bale) marries Mahito’s mother’s sister (Yoshino Kimura/Gemma Chan), and they evacuate from the Tokyo firebombings to her more rural home. A gray heron has taken roost on the property. But it is no ordinary heron (Masaki Suda/Robert Pattinson) when it begins to talk to Mahito. What follows is a slow but deliberately paced adventure exploring themes of acceptance, redemption, and faith in the young. 

The music score by Joe Hisaishi represents a departure from his usual style, but is no less successful for it. This is easily his most minimalistic score. He experimented occasionally with motifs that relied on minimalistic rhythmic impetus in The Wind Rises, foreshadowing the use of those same rhythmically strong minimalistic techniques that are brought to the forefront here. There is still plenty of good melody to be found, however. It is mostly grounded in his use of the piano, with simple, elegant melodies that are simultaneously hopeful and sad. 

The Boy and the Heron is a masterwork by a legendary craftsman. A visually stunning masterpiece of a boy’s journey to find acceptance and redemption, it contains a message for all of us at any stage of life. It is a film worth watching multiple times. The Boy and the Heron definitely does not suck.

Written & Directed by Hayao Miyazaki.

Starring: Soma Santoki/Luca Padovan, Masaki Suda/Robert Pattinson, Takuya Kimura/Christian Bale, Yoshino Kimura/Gemma Chan, etc.

10/10 = DROP EVERYTHING AND WATCH IT NOW (IT DEFINITELY DOES NOT SUCK)