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What is it about Hayao Miyazaki’s films that we love so dearly? Personally, I was once captivated by the plots and settings, later delved into the themes and metaphors, and now find the subtle emotions to be the most compelling aspect.
In these respects, Spirited Away is undoubtedly Miyazaki’s crowning achievement. The tension of the first half hour contrasts unforgettably with the tranquillity aboard the train at the conclusion. Having weathered so many trials alongside Chihiro, one surely gains the courage to face life head-on.
Princess Mononoke follows a similar pattern: Ashitaka is cursed from the outset, burdened with the fate of his entire tribe, and thus embarks on a quest to uncover the root of the calamity. The grand narrative and the irreconcilable conflict between humanity and nature weigh heavily on the heart.
Since the new millennium, Miyazaki’s films have grown increasingly elusive. I cannot confidently articulate the core themes of Howl or Ponyo. Fortunately, beyond their messages, the visuals, music, plot, and characterisation remain utterly captivating, instantly drawing one in.
Yet The Boy and the Heron is truly difficult to sum up. In the 21st century, the commercial world knows no bounds. Audiences have seen too many outstanding productions, visuals, scores, and bizarre settings. Unlike previous films, The Boy and the Heron fails to deliver anything truly astonishing.
The first half of the plot unfolds with remarkable calm and unhurried pace, feeling as steady as a mountain. Yet once the protagonist enters the otherworld, his actions become utterly baffling. What exactly did the otherworldly experience signify? What did the Warawara and the pelicans represent? I found myself largely unable to grasp it. Consequently, I felt thoroughly baffled, experiencing little emotional resonance throughout the viewing.
I do have a tentative notion regarding the central theme, though it remains mere conjecture (which I’ll touch upon below).
In essence, this is an intensely personal film, not crafted for the majority of audiences. Viewers should approach it with this in mind.
Below, I’ll briefly outline my understanding.
The film is set during the Second World War. Mahito’s father worked for an arms manufacturer, sustaining their modestly comfortable life by producing weapons. Hayao Miyazaki’s own father had also run an arms business, a fact that weighed heavily on Miyazaki. He once resented his father, unable to comprehend why he would profit from war.
As an ordinary citizen, Miyazaki’s father held a straightforward perspective. Common folk strive merely to survive, while the wealthy strive to live more comfortably. Doing business wherever profit lies—even if that profit stems from war—was not inherently wrong.
In this alternate realm, the granduncle maintains a magnificent tower. This fragile structure sustains a relatively idyllic world. Yet even this world harbours those who cannot survive (the pelicans, the undead), where the weak fall prey to the strong (pelicans devouring the Walawala), and where the edifice itself teeters on collapse. This stems from the granduncle’s insufficient power. He wished for Mahito to inherit his work, to craft an even more splendid tower of his own using stones devoid of malice.
Yet Mahito declared his wounds proof of his own malevolence. He had deliberately injured himself to seek punishment for his tormentors through an adult’s hand. Being imperfect, he claimed, he could never build a perfect tower.
If ordinary folk cannot alter the reality of war, can those in power truly change it? Even the most benevolent and enlightened leaders struggle to stem the tide of history. Individual strength is finite. War is sometimes an inevitable move. For the nation’s destiny and the people’s future, conflict may be necessary.
Peace is fragile. With a single swing of the the parakeet king’s sword (perhaps symbolising fascism), the tower painstakingly built by the kind and enlightened granduncle (symbolising Hayao Miyazaki’s friend Isao Takahata) shatters in two, and the entire otherworld ceases to exist.
Given this, where lies the way forward? Miyazaki himself wrestled with this question. In The Wind Rises, he laments with resignation: ‘The wind is rising. We must try to live.’ In turbulent times, it seems the ordinary person’s only recourse is to do their utmost to endure.
In this film, Miyazaki delves deeper into conflict, offering a more compelling approach to survival and attitude.
Firstly, confronting reality. The protagonist, Mahito, ultimately bids farewell to his granduncle and Himi, returning to the wartime reality where he reconciles with his stepmother. Himi, too, bravely accepts her fate to perish in the fire, returning to her own reality.
Secondly, forging friendships. Hayao declares he will find companions in the real world akin to Himi and the heron. Friends offer mutual support through adversity. They also serve as mirrors: when one’s actions veer towards imbalance, true friends will respond to guide correction.
This world is one of survival of the fittest, hardship, pain, and inescapable realities. It cannot be changed by a handful of heroes; progress must be made step by step. First, survive within this world. Then, understand it. Strive to purify one’s own heart. Finally, join others in building a White Tower for all.
Step Three: Believe in the young.
Hayao Miyazaki is gradually growing old; even the greatest individuals must age. Cultural creation cannot rely solely on a handful of masters. Great works require fertile ground, a less pressured social atmosphere, an inclusive cultural environment, and substantial investment of human and material resources – none of which can be achieved by a master alone. Only a society that continually progresses can produce masters; and only masters can create works that inspire the masses and give back to society.
The commercial world is one many criticise. It has many flaws, even ugliness. Yet the abundance of goods it produces brings convenience, broadens horizons, and refines aesthetic sensibilities. No world is perfect, nor is any utterly dark. Humans are creatures who swallow both clarity and murk. Therefore, abandon the fantasy of a perfect society, abandon the notion of instant perfection. From this moment, let us make the world a little better, step by step.
Begin with the individual: practise, exchange ideas, read, reflect;
Begin with those around you: build intimate relationships, mutually uplift one another;
Begin by participating in activities: discern kindred spirits, acquaint yourselves with one another;
From mutual acquaintance, to forming groups, to establishing systems;
From mutual aid, to saving lives, to enriching the soul.
Personally, I believe that as society advances, all will improve. Should society fail to progress, the ever-greater power in humanity’s hands may spiral out of control, and I would accept the possibility of civilisation’s demise with equanimity.
All things: strive to the utmost; all things: let nature take its course.
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This article was first published on: 3 April 2024, and last modified on: 3 December 2025.
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This work is licenced under CC BY-SA 4.0.