The Boy and the Heron

Words by Sadbh Boylan

The Boy and the Heron (Hayao Miyazaki, 2023) caused quite a stir this year when it was released in its native Japan with an unprecedented promotional campaign; that is there was no promotion whatsoever. No teases, no trailers, no stills or plot details released – just a single poster of a heron, and a title: How Do You Live? It was all very cloak-and-dagger, but of course, the latest from animation powerhouse Studio Ghibli still drew the masses and dominated the Japanese box office. Much of the intrigue dissipated for the release of the English version with a title change to the far more mundane but arguably less uppity The Boy and the Heron. Still, knowing that the film was originally distributed under How Do You Live? might offer you a greater insight into what you’re getting into than any trailer could.

Don’t be fooled by the new snappy title; The Boy and the Heron is just as profound and probing as its original title suggests. The film is the alleged swan song for Studio Ghibli co-founder and Japanese animation giant Hayao Miyazaki, the acclaimed storyteller behind modern classics like My Neighbor Totoro (1998) and Spirited Away (2001); alleged, of course, being the key word. Miyazaki has claimed retirement before, notably with great insistence upon the release of 2013’s The Wind Rises, but he returns as writer and director for The Boy and the Heron in what could very well be his last outing. The film has been pitched as “semi-autobiographical” by Miyazaki and is the product of seven years of development backed by the largest budget ever seen by a Japanese production. The result, while likely not for everyone’s taste, is still Miyazaki magic – and if this is the last hurrah, what a way to bow out.

The Boy and the Heron is a fantastical but mature Ghibli outing. An emotionally charged and beautifully animated cold open sets the scene for a feature that is heavy with musings on death, grief, and life beyond. We meet the stoic protagonist, 12 year-old-Mahito (Soma Santoki), in the throes of grief following the death of his mother during WWII raids in Tokyo. Accompanied by his father, Mahito leaves the city to seek refuge in the countryside, although he struggles to adjust and grapple with his grief. The first hour, mostly focused on Mahito’s troubles, is slow and can sometimes feel a little aimless. Indeed, much of the film can feel unfocused, and structure sticklers will be stumped by the film’s lack thereof – it moves fluidly, but not always coherently. Despite the off-pacing, however, the first hour still boasts some of the film’s most impressive artistry, and it’s difficult not to get swept up nonetheless.

Then it’s off to the races in the second hour as the story takes off in an entirely new direction. Miyazaki’s wild imagination is at full display but unfortunately gets a little muddled along the way. Character motivations are never quite crystalised, and with a large ensemble, character development and relationships are underbaked, even with lead Mahito. Still, these shortcomings ultimately feel small in what is again a sight to behold on screen. From beautiful landscapes to near-grotesque imagery, it’s difficult not to get caught up in just how gorgeous this film is. A special mention is owed for the score – an incredible showing from Joe Hisaishi puts him among the strongest contenders this awards season. Furthermore, while Irish previews showed the original Japanese, early critical appraisal suggests that the star-studded voice cast rose to the occasion in the English dub, and certainly shouldn’t detract from the overall quality.

If you can look beyond its weaker elements, it’s easy to become entirely engrossed in The Boy and the Heron’s remarkable artistry and thoughtful meditations on grief, letting go, legacy, and life after death. While not necessarily a straightforward narrative, the culmination is nonetheless rewarding, at once sobering, uplifting, and spectacular. If this is a goodbye from Miyzaki – it’s an inspiring final showing from an incredible filmmaker. Confusing? It can be, sure. And certainly some viewers won’t be able to see past its aimless structure and somewhat underdeveloped characters. But, if you can make peace with a confusing narrative, and immerse yourself in the film’s spectacular artistry and fantastical story, the emotional payoff makes it all worth it. My advice? Forget everything else – just sit back, and enjoy what may be the very last outing from a master storyteller of our time.