“The Boy and the Heron” Review (2023)
A Review by Victor DeBonis
Writer-director Hayao Miyazaki’s latest and (possibly) final movie starts with a devastating loss. A boy, Mahito, loses his mother to the wreckage of an awful war, and, from this point forward, “The Boy and the Heron” follows his journey to find peace from his trauma. Part of what has and still makes Miyazaki’s storytelling powerful is its ability to echo relatable situations and ideas in both realistic and imaginative ways. Before the story takes a greater turn towards the fantastical, Mahito spends much of his time withdrawing from others and enduring nightmares of his mother’s tragic passing. Occasionally, Mahito loses himself to his anger buried from deep within and experiences other moments in which he cries from the mere thought or dream of her.
The main character isn’t a young man of many words, but I don’t see this as a disadvantage to the film. Perhaps, this insight comes from me being a proud longtime introvert, but, in terms of the story and following his journey of grief and understanding, his actions speak loudly about what others, including myself, go through in the aftermath of a loss or harsh event.
I’ve never understood those who have told me or others to “get over” a loss or painful experience. In my personal experience, simply trying to force a pain away or pretend that it no longer exists does far more harm than good. It is appreciated to illustrate, early on, that Mahito continues to miss his mother after over a year has passed by. This demonstrates a simple truth others overlook in this all-too-quickly moving world of ours: recovery takes time. As Mahito tries to process his hurt and takes his time away from others, he is trying to determine what is the best way to find greater understanding from his pain, even if it isn’t the most rapid way to deal with the hurt.
I have endured times in my life in which I yearn for time for myself to reflect or try to determine how to move past certain pains. Sometimes, those moments are painful, but they are also sometimes necessary for me to meditate (which, for me, comes in the form of prayer, even if I could try to do it more often on my own) or contemplate how I can use the energy and sadness to turn into something creative. I sometimes found hurtful emotions that popped up in scenarios I didn’t entirely understand, and sadness and frustration from past hurt events and who I have lost can occasionally haunt me, but I find my way through the shadows to see the light in life as Mahito strives to do.
I share all of this to echo the power and relatable experiences that Mahito shares with us as we witness his story.
My mother, as I’ve mentioned in numerous works before this one, means the world to me. She is a golden representation of selflessness, of love, of the power of wisdom and kindness in a not always very understanding world. I can’t imagine how the pain will be when she leaves this Earth, and so, I can’t even begin to imagine what Mahito’s pain is like. I can’t imagine what feelings will fight through me when someone else from my family or someone I consider family passes away or is gone forever.
I feel every bit of the hurt and the depths of Mahito’s love for his mother through his quiet, painful experiences and actions. There are people I love who continue to voice how much they miss their mother or other treasured family member that has passed away, and I like to think that this movie might serve great meaning to them as they try to grapple with their pain as the main hero does.
This, alone, makes this movie a bittersweet treasure.
Beyond that, Miyazaki’s animation is astounding as one would expect. Vibrant colors of different birds and crisp layers of water from crashing waves are hand-drawn with deep levels of detail. The cramped space of abandoned buildings or the fierce crackling of pillars of fire is represented with exceptional craftsmanship from artists’ hands. Humans aim arrows or slice up food with strong, dutiful motions and accurately reflect the hard work of people from real life that perform the same actions with the same drive and character. About 10 minutes had passed as I was watching this movie, and I almost couldn’t believe I was watching a brand-new, hand-drawn film that looked this good on the big screen in 2023. I love great computer animation to be sure, but I miss seeing great hand-drawn movies, such as this one, in theaters and receiving the opportunity to watch other talented artists show their skills at capturing immense story and character through applying their hands to a sketch or drawing on paper.
For the English-dubbed version of this film, Luca Padovan excellently voices the devotion and concern of the main character. While Mahito aims his arrow and sheds tears on the screen to express the pain and power flowing from him, Padovan adds the other part of humanity to him via vocally expressing frustration or quiet reservation for those he wants to gain trust towards but hasn’t found the heart to, quite yet.
Florence Pugh, Gemma Chan, and Karen Fukuhara are great choices for lending voices to women who are simultaneously compassionate and courageous and lend a great amount of the heart and strength needed for an emotionally resonant tale, such as this. Between the women in this film and the heroines in “Kiki” and “Spirited Away” and so on, Miyazaki has a tremendous talent for writing tales involving relatable heroines with equal amounts of heart, emotional sincerity, and mighty courage, and his work and those of the gifted actresses for this dubbed version continue this tradition. Lady Himi, Kiriko, and Natsuko all echo a grace and drive needed to add to the humanity and character of this story, and it is a delight to hear and witness.
As soon as the Parakeet King commanded his army of birds, I instantly recognized Dave Bautista’s familiar booming voice, and it is hard for me think of another actor who could’ve paraded with humor and intimidation as well as this actor did for this bird. Whether he’s playing a terrifying character or a foolish one with heart, Bautista always understands what his character and what the story is trying to convey and accomplish. He further cements his knowledge and wondrous presence as an actor with his role here. Although I admittedly didn’t instantly recognize Robert Pattinson as the voice of the heron, I was amazed with his ability to echo the terrifying rasp and the dumbfounded foolishness of his unpredictable character, and this film is another entry to a filmography further expressing the wide range and richness of characters through which this actor can exceptionally step into. All of these characters in this story, in general, work to wonderful effect in their exchanges and conversations, regardless of whether they’re funny, heartfelt, or heartbreaking, and, while these characters are well-written with their colorful personalities and specific brand of energy, the vocal performers for this dubbed version enhance the experience with their own sense of craftsmanship.
Longtime collaborator of Miyazaki’s, Joe Hisaishi, once again conducts phenomenal music. Miyazaki understands the importance of allowing his characters to take time to themselves and when to allow quietness to fill their space in order for them to either recover or reflect, and I highly respect him for doing this in this movie, too. However, the instrumental solos for the tranquil moments are pleasant to listen to and do great in providing for the blissful or bittersweet atmosphere. Additionally, the events in which Mahito plunges deeper into the fantastical world of the heron carry an increasing sense of urgency, thanks to Hisaishi’s skill for conducting instrumental arrangements in which instruments build and increase with the precise volume and power needed. Hisaishi creates the exact sense of calmness, sadness, or anxiety for this story with his music, and his work in this film is another example of his shining talent as well as that from the musicians he guides from his orchestra.
The sheer strangeness of this world brings me delight. A sinister-sounding creature reveals himself to be less devious and more comical, and one of the ways in which mortality is expressed in this film creatively comes from the presence of neat, bubble-like creatures who grin and float to the clouds. Armies of brightly colored birds fill the screen and cook and hop around with eagerness in front of an aforementioned monarch who rules over them and has his own idea of the way in which their world must run. There’s a wonderfully peculiar charm to this world, similar to that in “Spirited Away” and “Castle in the Sky” and the adventure greatly benefits from it. I admire how Mahito and the few who accompany him on his journey must escape in specific ways and perform certain tasks to confirm deals or find their way out of one fantastical scenario or area into another. The imagination and delightful bizarreness feels straight out of a fairy tale, and I love the film all the more for it.
Once more, Miyazaki uses his imagination to discuss timeless themes and ideas that mean very much to him. One of the saddest moments in the movie presents itself when Mahito finds weak and wounded animals who discuss the hurt inadvertently inflicted upon them and their world by humans. It is no secret that the director of this film immensely cares about the environment and has used some of his films, such as “Princess Mononoke” to voice his love for the natural world and animals and his disappointment with those who cause harm upon it, whether they’re aware of the destruction caused by their actions or not.
In “The Boy and the Heron” Miyazaki also voices his hope for the world to try to learn from its ways in order to create a better place for both humans and animals, but, this time, he also uses the sadder scenes with animals to voice another theme: How do we make peace with a world filled with confusion and pain?
How can we move forward after unfair and even unspeakable trauma occurs?
We obviously see it through Mahito angry at the world for being a place in which war erupts and takes someone he loves the most, but we also see other characters and animals in this movie who are weary from their age but also from what they’ve seen and experienced of the arduous trials of life and the world surrounding them. Every one of them is trying to find the precise answer to dealing with the harshness of life, and, while the solution may be apparent to some, the events through which the main hero undergoes to reach that understanding has left me with scenes regarding family and empathy that still accompany my mind with both the thoughtfulness and gentleness flowing from them.
In recent times, I have reflected upon where I am, right now, and how much time has passed as well as my joy with where I am and my frustration with some of what occurred in my path up to this point. The present isn’t without its wonderful people and moments, of course, but I feel many who reach a certain age would agree that it isn’t always easy to determine or understand how or why horrible things sometimes happen as they do. At the time of this essay being published, I will be nearing the end of a year with nice moments but a seemingly bigger number of chaotic and sometimes saddening world events accompanying it. This, and, of course, the ongoing recovery of trauma from the year of 2020 and personal items leave me wondering where to best find the heart and light when a beloved connection or person’s life ends or what to make of the world when certain areas are literally fighting to survive.
So, I recognize the power and timelessness of the ideas discusses in this tale.
Finding the light in life through its shadowy moments is not an easy idea to discuss, and the discipline and heart with which the writer of the movie uses this story to talk about the ideas is remarkable.
And, of course, “The Boy and the Heron” is a moving story about the importance of a mother’s love. In the moments in which Mahito discusses the nice things he and his mother would do together or weeps at losing her or plunges further and further into the world just to see her again and see if he can somehow bring her back to the present world, the impact that this mother left upon him is evident. Whenever scenes occur in which Mahito is reminded of his Mom or sees her in some way, there is a strong sense that someone kind and important was lost as shown through the visuals on display and the other methods through which this story communicates about not only the mother but also about moving forward and finding love and family in other places.
The impact of a wonderful mother, the impact of meaningful family, in general, is a powerful thing and can drive someone to demonstrate great courage and heart, and I love that this movie is a testament to that.
“The Boy and the Heron” is a movie that gives so much to smile about, laugh from witnessing, and, most importantly, ponder and reflect over.
It is pretty much everything I could want from an animated classic, and I will more than likely continue reflecting on it and returning to it for years to come.
Miyazaki has always been an important storyteller in my journey of loving and learning about film.
His movie, “My Neighbor Totoro” was the first to make me cry when I was very young.
“Kiki’s Delivery Service” blew me away with the heart and courage of its heroine and her story, and I only love it more as time goes on.
The first time that I saw “Spirited Away” in college, it was another one of those movies that demonstrated the power of cinema and caused me to reflect more on what the medium could accomplish and create with its storytelling and craftmanship.
Similar to other movies from that time, it is probably one of those movies that led me to being a film writer, and there are other personal reasons for which “Spirited Away” means very much to me.
Needless to say, Miyazaki’s presence in my journey with film has left a powerful impact on me, and I will always be immensely thankful for that.
If “The Boy and the Heron” is truly where his journey for making movies ends, I wish him nothing but the best, and I can’t think of a better note to go out on.
A+