The Boy and the Heron
Rating: 4 stars
Director: Hayao Miyazaki
Year: 2023
Premiere: October 27, 2023
Across a long and storied career, this latest film from a celebrated animation filmmaker unfolds as a lush, multi-layered meditation on memory, loss, and the stubborn tenderness that keeps people connected to those who have passed. Its opening frames already echo familiar terrain—echoes from earlier works that have haunted audiences for decades. The tale follows a young protagonist who, unlike ordinary adventures, steps into a realm where the boundaries between everyday life and dreamlike otherworlds blur in a vivid display of color, motion, and sound. The central thread is grief: a patient, aching process that everyone recognizes yet rarely sees depicted with such intimate candor.
Visually, the movie is a testament to what bold animation can achieve when imagination is allowed to run free. The world unfurls through rapid, almost jittering shifts—from bustling city streets to sweeping skies and rooms that seem to bend at the edges of reality. The characters move with a grace that blends childlike spontaneity with a director’s refined eye for composition. Each frame feels crafted with a craftsman’s care, where beauty and unease live side by side, making the viewer unsettled in the best possible way. The interlacing of dreams and waking life creates a tapestry that invites repeated viewing to catch small details that initially escape notice.
Music and sound design play equal partners in the storytelling, guiding emotion with subtlety. The score threads through quiet moments and bursts of whimsy, shaping mood while never overpowering the action on screen. The result is a cinematic rhythm that mirrors the unpredictability of a child’s imagination, where thoughts leap from one scene to another and the logic of the plot keeps surprising us, even as themes remain deeply human. The film’s formal daring is evident in how it traverses genres and moods while retaining a coherent emotional throughline. It is less a single genre piece and more a gallery of sensations that together tell a story of resilience and farewell without cynicism.
At the heart of the narrative lies the relationship between a young boy and a mysterious guardian figure—an entity that embodies both guidance and an unsettling otherness. Their exchanges illuminate the tension between wishing for protection and learning to face reality without a safety net. Along the way, the film introduces a parade of extraordinary beings that inhabit the boy’s inner world, each serving as both obstacle and invitation to growth. The creatures, often drawn with a hybrid of whimsy and menace, remind viewers that fear is rarely a straightforward foe; it can be a doorway to understanding, self-discovery, and eventually, acceptance. The director’s signature blend of whimsy and gravity invites audiences to pause and reflect on how time reshapes family bonds and personal identity over the course of a single life.
The culmination of the film offers a moment of quiet, earned closure. It does not pretend that loss is simple or that goodbyes are easy, but it does affirm that memories endure and meanings shift in the wake of absence. The allegory resonates beyond fantasy, inviting viewers to examine their own experiences of grief, love, and the ways in which loved ones continue to guide us after they are gone. The movie’s artistic audacity serves as a reminder that cinema can be a sanctuary for difficult truths, delivering them with compassion and wonder. In a landscape of animated cinema, the work stands out as a bold, moving testament to the power of imagination as a vehicle for healing and transformation. It may be a concluding note in a long career, but its resonance speaks to the continuing vitality of the art form and the endless possibilities that animation can explore when fearless storytelling meets meticulous craft.