Hayao Miyazaki’s latest masterpiece, "The Boy and the Heron" (Kimitachi wa Dō Ikiru ka), immediately resonates with echoes of classic Toho Godzilla films and even the more recent "Godzilla Minus One." For viewers unfamiliar with wartime Japan, the piercing sound of air raid sirens, a recurring motif, might initially seem as foreign as the cicada’s song of a Japanese summer. However, these sirens, much like in the Godzilla narratives, quickly establish a backdrop of unease and impending disruption.
At the heart of this film is Mahito, a young boy navigating a world irrevocably altered by war. While the heron acts as a catalyst for his journey into the fantastical, the true significance lies in the tangible realities of Mahito’s world, beginning with his Mahito School Uniform. The film opens in 1943, immersing us in Mahito’s life within a traditional Japanese home, complete with tatami rooms, shoji dividers, and the custom of going shoeless indoors. This serene domesticity is shattered by the brutal reality of war when Mahito’s mother, Hisako, perishes in the fiery inferno of a Tokyo hospital bombing.
This pivotal sequence is where we first see Mahito in his school uniform. As he desperately runs towards the burning hospital, the mahito school uniform becomes a stark visual amidst the chaos. It’s a symbol of disrupted normalcy, of childhood innocence thrust into the heart of adult conflict. The sight of a young boy in his mahito school uniform amidst the panic-stricken crowds and struggling firemen poignantly underscores the war’s intrusion into the lives of children.
The narrative progresses, and we see streets populated by people in both traditional kimonos and Western clothing, a visual representation of Japan’s cultural crossroads during this period. Small tanks rolling down these streets further emphasize the militarization encroaching upon everyday life. Mahito’s simple lines, "Three years into the war, mother died. Four years in, I left Tokyo with father," succinctly capture the timeline of personal tragedy intertwined with national conflict.
Mahito and his father relocate to Saginuma, a place name itself hinting at the heron motif (sagi meaning heron, numa meaning swamp). They are joined by Natsuko, Mahito’s mother’s younger sister, who arrives in a pedicab, dressed in a kimono and traditional geta. Her attire, a short-sleeved kimono, subtly indicates her unmarried status, contrasting with the long-sleeved furisode for unmarried women. This detail, along with the bare feet in geta, showcases the blend of tradition and practicality in wartime clothing.
As they journey to their new country estate, they encounter soldiers and supporters brandishing banners with messages like “May your luck last long in battle” and “Congratulations on your draft notice.” This scene further contextualizes the pervasive atmosphere of war and nationalistic fervor. Natsuko’s respectful bow to these soldiers highlights societal expectations and the somber undertones of the era.
The opulent entry to the estate, with its red stairway and golden lion dog panels, presents a stark contrast to the somber wartime atmosphere. Even the arrival of mundane supplies like canned goods becomes a source of excitement for the elderly servants, underscoring the scarcity and value of even basic commodities during wartime.
Mahito’s internal world is haunted by nightmares of his mother and the fire. These dreams, where he hears her calling him, reflect the unresolved trauma and grief he carries. The heron, initially just a curious presence, becomes a lure, drawing Mahito away from the waking world and into the mysteries of the tower. This tower, built by Mahito’s eccentric great-uncle, is shrouded in local legend and becomes the gateway to the fantastical realm.
His father, working at an air munitions factory, represents Japan’s war machine. His ability to excuse Mahito from school highlights the privileges afforded to those connected to the war effort. However, instead of solace, Mahito finds himself increasingly drawn to the enigmatic heron and the forbidden tower.
The attempted confrontation with the heron reveals its supernatural nature. The bird’s ability to speak and transform, coupled with the eerie appearance of fish and toads, marks Mahito’s definitive step into the extraordinary. Natsuko’s intervention with an arrow shot further blurs the lines between reality and fantasy, protection and pursuit.
Driven by curiosity and perhaps a subconscious desire to escape his grief, Mahito crafts his own bow and arrow, mirroring a return to traditional tools in a world dominated by modern warfare. It is during this time he discovers his mother’s gift, the book "How Do You Live?" This book, inscribed with her hopes for his future, becomes a poignant symbol of her enduring presence and the questions she leaves behind.
Using a heron feather for his arrow gives it uncanny accuracy, leading him to injure the heron and force its partial human form to manifest. The heron, revealing its knowledge of Mahito’s mother and his unspoken grief, becomes a guide, leading Mahito and the servant Kiriko towards the tower and the promise of answers.
Inside the tower, the architecture shifts to European design, reflecting the film’s broader themes of Western influence. The heron’s transformation is completed, and it fully embodies its human-like form. The discovery of his sleeping mother in a fainting sofa sets the stage for Mahito’s deeper journey into the fantastical world.
Natsuko, consumed by guilt and concern for Mahito, follows him into the tower, becoming lost in its labyrinthine world herself. Mahito’s quest then shifts from finding his mother to rescuing Natsuko, signifying his evolving sense of responsibility and connection to his new family.
His journey through the fantastical realm is fraught with trials – encounters with the Warawara, a younger Kiriko, the pyrokinetic Himi, battles against pelicans, and confrontations with man-eating parakeets. Ultimately, he faces his great-uncle, the architect of this world, who offers Mahito a place as a keeper of balance.
The film’s original Japanese title, “How Do You Live?”, is far more resonant than the English title, “The Boy and the Heron.” It directs the audience to the central philosophical question that permeates the narrative, minimizing the emphasis on the heron as merely a character and highlighting the deeper existential inquiry.
The film subtly juxtaposes Westernization and Japanese tradition throughout its visual and narrative elements. Japan’s rapid modernization in the Meiji Restoration, fueled by Western influence, is mirrored in the architectural and technological contrasts within the film. The Great Uncle, immersed in books and new ideas, embodies this intellectual shift, appearing “strange” to those rooted in tradition.
The introduction of canned food, tobacco, and airplanes to Japan, all products of Western innovation, is woven into the fabric of Mahito’s world. These elements, once novelties, become integral parts of daily life, representing the irreversible changes brought about by globalization and modernization.
Even within the confines of his home, Mahito experiences this duality. He begins in a traditional Japanese house and transitions to a Western-style room within the new estate. This physical shift mirrors the internal conflicts and changes he undergoes. The servants’ fascination with canned goods and the adults’ reliance on cigarettes, newly introduced commodities, further illustrate the permeation of Western products into Japanese society.
While his father embraces modern warfare, Mahito instinctively turns to the bow and arrow, a traditional Japanese weapon. This choice symbolizes a yearning for simpler, more grounded values amidst the overwhelming tide of modernity. The bow and arrow, deeply rooted in Japanese culture and tradition, represent a connection to the past that Mahito seeks amidst the uncertainties of the present.
The heron, while a native bird, is imbued with folklore significance, linked to the “grey heron fire” and transformations into yokai, or supernatural entities. The presence of pelicans and parakeets, non-native species, further emphasizes the theme of intrusion and disruption, reflecting Japan’s encounter with the wider world. The parakeets, described as an invasive species, and the knotweed, used as a substitute for tobacco, become potent symbols of foreign elements taking root in Japanese soil.
The golden gate in the fantastical realm, with its reversed katakana inscription “ワレヲ学ブ者ハ死ス (Ware o manabu mono wa shisu – He who learns of me shall die),” highlights the unsettling and foreign nature of this world. The use of katakana, often used for foreign words or emphasis, and the reversed script, creates a sense of otherworldliness and disorientation. This linguistic detail subtly underscores the film’s exploration of cultural identity and the impact of foreign influences.
Mahito’s name, meaning “sincere person,” and his surname “Maki,” meaning “pasture,” carry symbolic weight, hinting at his inherent goodness and connection to nature. The names of other characters also hold meaning, reflecting their roles and personalities within the narrative.
The film, like the book that inspired it, centers on the eldest son and the responsibilities and expectations associated with that role in Japanese society. Mahito’s journey echoes the protagonist of his mother’s book, both grappling with questions of identity and purpose in a rapidly changing world.
The influx of Western knowledge and technology into Japan after its forced opening is depicted as both transformative and disruptive. The Great Uncle, overwhelmed by this influx, retreats into his own world, symbolizing the potential for both enlightenment and disorientation in the face of rapid change. The need to acquire resources like oil, mirroring historical events leading up to WWII, is subtly alluded to in the film’s context.
The pelicans’ complaint about being brought to the fantastical land and given only Warawara to eat mirrors the anxieties of established powers facing new arrivals and the potential disruption of existing hierarchies. This echoes the broader themes of resource competition and cultural displacement explored in the film.
The Great Uncle’s warning to Mahito, “Look. These stones are not stained with malice. You’ll return to a foolish world of rampant murder and thievery? Soon it shall be consumed by flames,” encapsulates the film’s underlying message about the dangers of the outside world and the cyclical nature of conflict.
Mahito’s optimistic response, “I’ll make friends, like Hime, Kiriko and the Aosagio,” and his commitment to “stack the stones,” offers a hopeful counterpoint. It emphasizes the importance of human connection and the possibility of building a better future, even amidst a flawed world.
"The Boy and the Heron" masterfully explores World War II from a child’s perspective, mirroring "Godzilla Minus One" in its personal and human-scale portrayal of conflict. It prompts a re-evaluation of history, moving beyond dominant narratives and embracing diverse perspectives. Like Miyazaki’s earlier film, "The Wind Rises," which examined the human cost of technological advancement in wartime, this film delves into the profound impact of modernization and Westernization on Japan.
Ultimately, "The Boy and the Heron" poses a fundamental question: How do you live in a world grappling with tradition and change, peace and conflict? The answers, suggested through Mahito’s journey, may hold the key to preventing the world from being consumed by flames, both literal and metaphorical. And within this journey, the mahito school uniform serves as a potent reminder of innocence amidst turmoil, and the enduring spirit of youth navigating a world in flux.
