Hayao Miyazaki’s Return with The Boy and the Heron: A Film of Loss, Legacy and Life

After a brief(!) retirement of a decade, Hayao Miyazaki’s highly anticipated return to filmmaking with The Boy and the Heron (originally titled How Do You Live?) marks a significant moment in cinema. Miyazaki’s first feature since The Wind Rises (2013), The Boy and the Heron won the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature Film in 2024. Set in World War II era Japan, the film explores themes of loss and life through the eyes of a teenage boy named Mahito. It is a deeply reflective piece that echoes familiar themes from Miyazaki’s previous works while offering new emotional and narrative depths.

The story follows a young boy named Mahito Maki who is grappling with the loss of his mother in a fire. His father remarries and the family moves to a rural area, where Mahito struggles with feelings of grief, loneliness, and displacement. A mysterious heron, who claims to be a guide to another world shared by the living and dead, sets Mahito on a journey through a fantastical, surreal realm filled with strange creatures and dreamlike landscapes. This journey leads Mahito to confront his inner turmoil and understand the broader meaning of life and death.

My journey with Studio Ghibli started with Grave of the Fireflies (1988). This film, along with others such as Princess Mononoke (1997), The Wind Rises (2013), Spirited Away (2001), and My Neighbor Totoro (1988), shares some common symbolisms and styles unique to Miyazaki’s direction.

As expected from Studio Ghibli, The Boy and the Heron is visually stunning, with every frame of animation crafted with rich details. The use of color is particularly striking in this film.

The contrast between the muted, subdued real-world scenes and the vibrant, surreal fantasy realm underscores the film’s exploration of the boundary between reality and imagination.

The film deeply contemplates themes of grief, memory, and the human condition. Mahito’s struggle to accept his mother’s demise and his father’s new marriage reflects the broader human experience of dealing with change and the passage of time. His journey is not just a physical one but an emotional and spiritual exploration of his own psyche. Miyazaki’s childhood experiences during World War II and the rapid industrialization of Japan profoundly shape the film’s narrative.

The heron, both a guide and a trickster, represents the duality of nature—its beauty and its pain. The ambiguous nature of the heron’s guidance reflects Miyazaki’s view of nature as something both wondrous and potentially destructive, requiring respect and understanding. Fans often find it shocking to know that Miyazaki is this grumpy, old man who thinks the world is hopeless and bleak, opposite to his magical worlds in Ghibli movies.

Despite its majestic appearance, the heron was a pathetic, ugly creature, yet it became Mahito’s ally and played a crucial role in helping him overcome his grief. Perhaps the heron is the exemplification of Miyazaki’s creative side, and the magical realm is his own escape from reality.

What struck me most about The Boy and the Heron is how it revisits themes from Miyazaki’s earlier works. Films like Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984), Princess Mononoke, and My Neighbor Totoro all address the consequences of human interference with nature. In Nausicaä, the protagonist strives to heal a ravaged world, while Princess Mononoke presents the conflict between industrialization and nature. My Neighbor Totoro depicts nature as a nurturing force, contrasting the industrial elements that infringe upon it.

The Boy and the Heron reflects these concerns through its portrayal of a war-torn Japan and the intrusion of industrial elements into the natural world. The film also touches on the theme of generational legacy and the impact of war, echoing the concerns seen in The Wind Rises. The film subtly critiques the destructive forces of war and how they shape the lives of those who come after. Additionally, the film addresses heavy subjects like self-harm and bullying, along with surviving in the post-World War era. Through Mahito’s story, Miyazaki seems to be exploring his legacy as a filmmaker, contemplating what he will leave behind and how his works will be remembered.

Miyazaki’s dedication to traditional, hand-drawn animation is profoundly reflected in this film. It is a bold statement about his lifelong commitment to preserving human artistry in storytelling—a commitment that sets his work apart in an era dominated by CGI and digital techniques.

His refusal to adopt CGI or AI-driven methods serves as a counterbalance to the industry’s shift towards faster, more cash-grabbing production techniques. On a larger scale, The Boy and the Heron reinforces the cultural significance of hand-drawn animation. By staying true to his methods, Miyazaki not only preserves a dying art form but also highlights the irreplaceable value of human creativity in the face of advancing technology, earning him his second Academy Award after the one earned for Spirited Away in 2003.

While this film is undeniably beautiful and thematically rich, its pacing felt challenging at times. The film unfolds slowly, with a narrative structure that prioritizes atmosphere and mood over plot. This can make the film feel slow and boring at times, as it often lingers on scenes and moments that may seem disconnected from the main storyline. Some storylines felt rushed and underexplained, but perhaps this was intentional to keep its mystique and appeal. However, this deliberate pacing is a hallmark of Miyazaki’s style, allowing the audience to immerse themselves in the world he has created and reflect on the film’s deeper meanings.

The Boy and the Heron is not a film for those seeking a straightforward or action-packed adventure. For long-term fans of Studio Ghibli, this film is a treasure trove of familiar themes and motifs, revisited with the wisdom and melancholy of an artist reflecting on his life and career. F

or new viewers, it offers a challenging yet rewarding experience, showcasing the power of animation to transcend reality. The film guides us to choose the harsh reality over a crumbling castle of dreamlike wonder, even at the cost of breaking generational legacy. Miyazaki’s return to filmmaking is a reminder of his unparalleled ability to blend the fantastical with the deeply personal.

In the end, The Boy and the Heron is a film that asks more questions than it answers, leaving its audience with lingering thoughts and emotions that resonate long after the credits roll. This film is also very context-driven and inextricably linked to its creator, making it almost impossible to separate Miyazaki from the film to understand the meanings and symbolism behind it. With Mahito, we learn to face our grief and come to terms with it. While this movie has its own charm, it is not a revolutionary or easy-to-watch film for people unfamiliar with Ghibli. For old viewers like me, it offers a nostalgic return and a fresh perspective, inviting us to reflect on our relationship with the world and the legacy we leave behind.