Mahito (Luca Padovan) is still grieving the loss of his mother when he moves into the sprawling, lake-front estate of his Aunt, Natsuko (Gemma Chan). His father, Shoichi (Christian Bale), a weapons manufacturer, had remarried the younger sister of his departed wife and now they are expecting a child together. While out exploring the grounds, Mahito is in pursuit of a grey heron (Robert Pattinson) who has taunted the boy since his arrival. Following the bird to an abandoned tower at the edge of the property, Mahito uncovers a portal to a different world, embarking on a wild adventure from which he may never want to return home. 

Emerging from retirement, Hayao Miyazaki writes and directs The Boy and the Heron with Studio Ghibli, an original story billed as a semi-autobiographical account of the famed animator’s youth while pulling inspiration from How Do You Live?, a seminal coming-of-age novel by Genzaburo Yoshino’s of which the film also shares a title in its original Japanese.  A single poster is all that heralded the arrival of the film in Japan where it opened in the summer and became the highest-grossing premiere for the studio before starting off on the fall festival circuit. US distribution rights were awarded to GKIDS who platformed the 124-minute film, both subbed and dubbed, with preview screenings, PLF offerings, and general release culminating in the largest theatrical reach of any title in the company’s history. For the sake of this review, the voice work of the English, dubbed cast, working off of Stephanie Sheh’s translation, will be referenced. 

The film follows Mahito’s arc across his journey of grief towards acceptance. It is a tall ask for Padovan, and while the burden of physicality is lifted from the actor’s shoulders, there is still a wide emotional range that he must portray in his vocal performance. In addition to that, he is also our channel into the strange world of the later half of the film; one that exists before birth and is under threat by the Parakeet King (Dave Bautista). He does really well in the role, portraying the pain that he is experiencing as well as the wonder and confusion of this new world, and his vocal performance develops over the course of the film as he tiptoes into new emotional ground and understanding. There is a growth present there, slow at first, but in totality it is enormous.

The opening drama and intrigue work very well as Miyazaki builds a course of grief and growth for young Mahito to follow. From his first few steps on the estate, the grey heron makes a close appearance, noted by Natsuko to be strange as the bird typically keeps to himself in the pond. This first act is a nice mystery as the bird continues to taunt Mahito and begins to reveal that it may not be just a regular heron, but something else entirely as the features of a man’s face begin to emerge from the bird’s beak. The strangeness continues until Mahito follows Natsuko into the woods with Kiriko (Florence Pugh), one of the maids at the estate, in search of the pregnant matriarch. They happen upon a tunnel leading to the inside of the mysterious tower where a great wizard (Mark Hamill), hidden by shadows, opens a portal to an alternate world. 

At first glance, this strange world appears much like our own, but when Mahito is forced through a graveyard gate by a flock of pelicans and rescued by a younger, sea-faring Kiriko, the cracks begin to show in both the standard order of this world and the narrative will start to buckle under the weight of this fantasy. Miyazaki still proves to be a wonderful creator, though, with the Warawara (Karen Takizawa), little marshmallowy bubbles who represent the souls of those yet to be born, and later the parakeet foot soldiers who brandish forks and knives looking like creatures straight out of a storybook. It is a fun tangent, and as the plot unfolds there are two main threads that reveal themselves: the wizard who opened the portal in the tower is Mahito’s grand uncle and wants his nephew to succeed his rule over this world and the second thread being that it is from this world, all other timelines and realities stem. As Mahito traverses this world, the parallels between his own reality begin to show themselves; Kiriko has small carvings of the other nannies from the estate, Lady Himi (Karen Fukuhara), a flame-wielding sorceress, bares resemblance to Mahito’s mother, Hisako, and at the center of the tower, Natsuko lies in her bed, waiting to give birth to her new child. The puzzle pieces are all there, and with the roadmap of the first act in the back of our minds, we can begin to categorize certain elements into aspects of Mahito’s grief, but the story becomes too wild, especially in its final throws, that much of the catharsis which Miyazaki is working to build is lost somewhere along the way.  

If the film falters, it is in the overall massive arc of it all more so than the vocal performances, and certainly not the artistry behind the frames. The color pallet of the film, even in the darker, scarier sequences, remains rather bright adding to the whimsy of the fantasy world and the feeling that life continues in the real world. Joe Hisaishi provides the score, a largely piano-driven work, that really helps to punctuate important moments in the film with the strong strike of the keys and highlights the versatility of the instrument to create flowing chords when the film is more playful. 

It is a shame that such a personal – yet widely relatable – story becomes so muddied in its execution. Trying to do a little bit of everything, Miyazaki’s latest has all the trademarks of the celebrated director, but, in an effort to place everything he has in him into what may be his final film, it becomes a little too broad and wide to stay in focus across its runtime. While the pointed nuance of a drama is largely lost, it does still paint a beautiful emotional portrait of a boy mourning the loss of his mother and accepting his aunt to fill that maternal role. The flights of fancy are enjoyable, even if they do not connect as directly as something like J. A. Bayona’s A Monster Calls (2016), a similarly themed dark fairy tale experienced by a grieving youth, it shows the turmoil and the struggle of learning that accepting is not the same as forgetting, and that while it may be comfortable to live in the memories of happier times, there is still a world around us in which time is ticking ever forward. It is both mournful and hopeful, and the elements of fantasy add a bit of sugar to the narrative which builds the bridge between the story and the style.