Miyazaki' Self Portrait of Impermanence
Why the filmmaker's latest is his most intimate and spiritual masterpiece
**Minor Spoilers in this article for The Boy & the Heron**
For anyone who’s an admirer of Hayao Miyazaki, watching that blue Ghibli background on the large theatre screen is a special feeling. Knowing that this might be the final time you’ll ever see this master filmmaker’s work makes it also a poignant moment. With “The Boy & The Heron” or its much better Japanese title “How Do You Live?” - this foreshadowing end to a career is the whole point. Every good thing eventually comes to an end. But this final (ish) installment isn’t just about endings, this is Miyazaki’s most intimate and at the same time most spiritual version of his vision. Today, The Shinkansen takes you on a cosmic ride through the shimmering horizon of this beautiful cinematic self-portrait. Let the grey Heron be your guide.
I have been reading a lot of science fiction lately, especially by Asian writers and there’s one in particular that reminded me a lot of Hayao Miyazaki’s animated world. The story is called “A Hundred Ghosts Parade Tonight” by Chinese author Xia Jia. In an interview, she describes it as “porridge sci-fi”, a sort of blending of scientific elements with myths, folklore and ancient wisdom. You can instantly see this definition working for Miyazaki’s films and more so for The Boy & The Heron. While I’ll try to keep the spoilers to a minimum here, I have to say, towards the end of the film, seeing Miyazaki’s vision going multiversal was jaw-dropping!
I think he (Hayao Miyazaki) is a guy who has exquisite technical finesse but is also a man who has decided to confide in us his most intimate biography through his work.
- Guillermo del Toro on THE BOY AND THE HERON
It’s easy to go gaga over the magical and cosmic nature of the film with time portals, balancing of the universe and the literal fabric of space-time folding and breaking (reminded me of another superb story called “Folding Beijing” by Hao Jingfang), but what hits you long after you have exited the theatre is the soft sadness you carry within you. In a way, this tale is about our protagonist, young Mahito processing grief - the death of his mother. It’s about how this incident forever changes him and jolts him into adulthood, yanking away his child-like innocence. He now knows death and suffering, and that things end. They are impermanent. It’s the unbearable pain of growing older. Wiser? Maybe. But losing something precious in the process. And each of us knows this subliminally and why we carry the pain Mahito does. Loss is a teacher.
The Boy and the Heron visualizes its themes of impermanence with equal doses of splendor and horror, mimicking life. But it also mimics Miyazaki himself. This is his self-portrait. The final masterpiece he wants to leave behind to the world. As another master filmmaker put it after seeing the film, Guillermo del Toro says “I think he (Hayao Miyazaki) is a guy who has exquisite technical finesse but is also a man who has decided to confide in us his most intimate biography through his work.”
Miyazaki’s career spans more than 40 years! And throughout this journey, he has seen the splendor and horror of impermanence - the struggles of Ghibli’s early days, the joys of their golden era, the deaths of his coworkers, and the temptation to put the brush down for good. But almost like a Bodhisattwa (an enlightened being in the Buddhist tradition), he returns to impart his wisdom. He feels the pull of his purpose. How do you live? When the woman who brought you into this world disappears before you reach adulthood. When your friendships fade away. When you’re thrust upon an unfamiliar and unforgiving world. How do you live when nothing lasts? Well, we find two answers to that.
The first comes in the form of the source material, the book that Miyazaki has read endlessly in his childhood. Eliquoently written by Genzaburo Yoshino, the book follows a young Copper who’s lost his father and is now being raised by his mother with help from his uncle. The story is like a fable, a series of situations where Copper comes against something and learns to understand it, adapt and find the best solution. Through this process, he develops his moral compass which gets reinforced by the teachings through letters from his uncle. The situations teach him about kindness, the importance of community and that the the bonds between us are what matter most. This is how you live - no matter the suffering and impermanence around you. This is what means to live a good life. The simplicity of it is striking and I wish more young boys get to read this subtle work filled with profound guidance.
The second answer to our question “How Do You Live?” comes from Miyazaki himself in the form of Mahito’s Granduncle and Mahito's conversation towards the end of the film. It’s clear to see the filmmaker has modeled the character on himself. This Granduncle is trying to balance his creation and make it last for one more day but knows his time has come to find a successor. But when Mahito rejects the offer, we see the carefully crafted world fall apart. That falling apart is the first step towards our answer - Mahito accepting his reality and the future possibilities it brings. A new family, a new home, and also a new (post-war) era in his country. A rebirth.
“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
These lines sum up the Granduncle and Miyazaki’s reaction to the final chapter of their lives. The parallel of the Granduncle’s world falling apart is an indication of what might happen to Studio Ghibli after Miyazaki departs this world. But he leaves us, for now at least, with acceptance and hope. This is how you live.
But you might not get any of this from watching the film. That’s why it’s so brilliant. Like all other great films, it lets you interpret it the way you want to. And like a mirror, it will tell you who you are. This is also Miyazaki’s most in-form movie, you can easily tell he made it exactly the way he wanted to without any compromises.
And this reminds me of another quote - this one’s from a scientist. It goes something like this: “The Universe is under no obligation to make sense to us”. Miyazaki isn’t under any to us either. This is his final show of creative rage against the dying light.
And that’s your stop for today. The Shinkansen will be back.
Today’s recommendation from The Shinkansen Radio is from Hayao Miyazaki’s long-time collaborator Joe Hisaishi, a track called “Mother’s Message”. Enjoy!