English

Film Commentary from a distinctly Japanese lens

The Boy and the Heron (2023), Hayao Miyazaki’s first film in a decade, remains enigmatic no matter how many times you watch it. Yet, it possesses a peculiar charm that compels you to keep revisiting it. While many Japanese viewers may also find the film hard to grasp, foreign audiences may discover it more approachable once they unravel the underlying Japanese cultural context woven into the narrative.

This article aims to introduce the film from a distinctly Japanese lens.

Let’s begin with the movie’s title. While the English title simply refers to the story’s protagonists, Mahito and The Grey Heron, the Japanese title, How Do You Live? poses a question.

The Japanese title is based on a novel published in 1937, around the same time the film is set. The film only references the title of the book, not its storyline. The novel, written by children’s author and anti-war activist Genzaburo Yoshino, is included in middle school language textbooks and is esteemed for its educational value in Japan.

The book follows a middle school-aged boy and his time at school with his friends. When his uncle hears about what the boy is learning and experiencing, he imparts wisdom to his nephew about how to exist within societal structures and interpersonal relationships. The general structure of the boy seeking guidance from his uncle to navigate life’s complexities and growing from those experiences mirrors that of the film.

Early in the movie, Mahito accidentally knocks over a stack of books on his desk while making a homemade arrow in his room. Among the pile of books, he discovers one containing a message from his late mother. Foreign audiences may have overlooked this detail due to the Japanese cover, but the book Mahito picks up is indeed the novel, How Do You Live?

Apart from referencing the title, Miyazaki pays homage to the novel by featuring it in the film. I believe the question, “How do you live?” serves as an important message from the director to his audience.

Additionally, the heron referred to in the English title, The Boy and the Heron, is known as sagi in Japanese. There is a homonym for sagi that also refers to an act of deception or fraud. The bird depicted in the movie is specifically the grey heron, a common species in Japan, often found near bodies of water in rural areas.

A middle-aged man’s visage emerges from the mysterious grey heron and guides Mahito into the “underworld” through an old tower by the boy’s house. In one scene, Mahito and the Grey Heron argue over a question:

“The grey heron says all grey herons lie. Is this true or false?”

This wordplay involves the Japanese homonyms for “heron” and “fraud”. Understanding this context may add further depth to the scene.

Now, let’s delve into the historical backdrop of The Boy and the Heron.

The film opens on a day in 1944, amid the Second World War, with sirens warning of air raids in Tokyo. A fire breaks out at the hospital where Mahito’s mother is hospitalized, resulting in her untimely death. Shortly afterward, Mahito and his father evacuate from the city and move into the home of Natsuko, the boy’s aunt and his father’s new wife.

Similar to practices in other countries, Japan evacuated civilians during the war. Children, the elderly, women, and other vulnerable demographics and businesses were evacuated out of urban attack zones and relocated throughout rural areas. Mahito’s father, who operates a munitions factory, fled with him to the countryside for this reason.

Many viewers may find it unsettling that Mahito’s father remarries and fathers a child with his later wife’s younger sister (Natsuko) soon after his first wife’s death.

This practice, known as “sororate marriage”, was once customary in Japan; husbands often remarried their deceased wives’ sisters. This tradition is deeply rooted in the longstanding Japanese reverence for family history and lineage.

The main goal of sororate marriage was to maintain familial bonds and preserve assets within the two families. While this is no longer common practice in modern Japan, it remains legal.

Consider Mahito’s parents in this context. Following their evacuation from the city, the father and son relocate to Natsuko’s residence, a sprawling estate boasting extensive acreage, a sizable lake teeming with fish, a stately Japanese-style mansion, and a separate Western-style cottage. Moreover, their household staff includes a chauffeur who provides transportation for the family on his bicycle and seven elderly women, not dwarves, in the main residence. It’s evident that the family possesses considerable wealth.

Furthermore, the father owns a car, a rarity during that era, and is involved in the military industry manufacturing fighter jets. He also seems to wield considerable influence, even donating funds to withdraw Mahito from school upon learning he was bullied by his classmates. The portrayal of both families in the film clearly illustrates their substantial wealth, especially within the context of wartime Japan.

Given the prominence of these families, Mahito’s maternal relatives hope to uphold inter-familial ties by preserving the family lineage even after his mother’s death. Considering the societal values of Japan during that period, the notion of arranging for the younger sister Natsuko to remarry was not uncommon.

Another possible inspiration for this sororate marriage could stem from ancient Japanese mythology.

The oldest Japanese historical texts, the Kojiki (“Record of Ancient Matters”) and the Nihon Shoki (The Chronicles of Japan), both from the 8th century, feature a goddess named Konohanasakuya-hime, famous for her exquisite beauty. The goddess marries the same deity as her sister but becomes his sole spouse and births three fire gods in a delivery room.

The parallels between this myth and characters in the film are apparent, with Natsuko marrying the same man as her sister and Himi possessing the ability to manipulate fire. Given Miyazaki’s penchant for drawing from Japanese mythology in his previous works, such as Princess Mononoke (1997) and Spirited Away (2001), it’s plausible that he incorporated similar elements into The Boy and the Heron.

Lastly, as mentioned earlier, I believe the Japanese title, How Do You Live? poses an essential question from Hayao Miyazaki to his audience.

Not long after commencing production on this film, Miyazaki suffered the loss of his longtime mentor, Isao Takahata (known for such works as Grave of the Fireflies (1988) and Pompoko (1994)), with whom he had shared many challenges and successes even prior to the inception of Studio Ghibli. Due to his grave loss, Miyazaki struggled working on the storyboard for the film for some time.

But after a long and agonizing process, Miyazaki attempted to seek closure by modeling a character in the film, the great uncle, after Takahata. The title, How Do You Live? also reflects a question Miyazaki posed to himself.

Though this film may be challenging to comprehend, each viewer’s interpretation varies significantly. I encourage everyone to reflect on the significance of the Japanese title, How Do You Live?, and what it means to them.

Translation by Mimiko Goldstein