Our take
The Boy and the Heron isn’t Hayao Miyazaki’s best film, nor is it his most accessible, seeing as the director himself has admitted to getting lost in the world he’s built here. But it is his most personal film to date (apparently he’s out of retirement!) and consequently, it’s one of the most complex Ghibli films to exist. It eschews structure for pure, raw emotion so instead of dialogue and plots, you get wonderfully abstract fantasy worlds and protagonists with near-imperceptible depths. You don’t have to get the story to understand the heaviness, grief, joy, and hope that Mahito, and in turn Miyazaki, feel. You only have to see the delicate turns in the characters’ expressions and their wildly imaginative adventures.
The story
While the Second World War rages, the teenage Mahito, haunted by his mother's tragic death, is relocated from Tokyo to the serene rural home of his new stepmother Natsuko, a woman who bears a striking resemblance to the boy's mother. As he tries to adjust, this strange new world grows even stranger following the appearance of a persistent gray heron, who perplexes and bedevils Mahito, dubbing him the "long-awaited one."
Elsewhere
"A mind-mangling, logic-teasing explosion of poetry, philosophy and pure emotion."
— Mark Asch
"It’s gorgeous, ruminative, and mesmerizing, one of the best of 2023."
— Brian Tallerico
After losing his mom in a fire, Mahito is dismayed that his father has remarried his Aunt Natsuko. When she goes missing, however, he leads the search and ends up in another world, one where herons talk and the dead remain alive.
The stunning visuals (simultaneously smooth and nostalgic), which many veteran animators in Japan helped craft.
Leave it to Miyazaki to craft the most heart-wrenching and adorable farewell.
Who picked it
Renee Cuisia is the lead curator at A Good Movie to Watch. In her spare time, she likes to watch K-dramas and analyze them to death. She's also seen You've Got Mail one too many times but is still convinced it's one of the greatest films out there.
