Prestige Versus Substance
This seems like a vaguely familiar title for a blog post. Right, I did talk about quality vs. appeal a while back. This is a similar topic. The idea came to me after I saw the film The Boy and the Heron and also noticed the animated feature nominations for the Golden Globes. While I’m thrilled two anime films were nominated (it’s about time the prestigious awards shows recognized some good content from Japan), it did juxtapose the two in a way that made me think an unfathomable, perhaps heretical question: how is The Boy and the Heron a worthy competitor for Suzume?
I want to talk about my thoughts on The Boy and the Heron first before I talk further about prestige and substance. So here’s my quasi-review for the film (in case it needs to be said at this point, here’s a spoiler warning: my thoughts contain spoilers about the film). It’s not very good. I’d go as far as to say it’s leaning towards bad or a low 5/10 with 5 being neutral or mediocre. On My Anime List (MAL) I gave it a 4 because I think it’s worse than Ponyo. The animation is its best feature, while the accompanying score is also pretty good. I’m proud of Joe Hisaishi for getting nominated for his music as he’s done great work. If I had to summarize what made this film not good in a sentence, here’s what I’d say:
It has starting points of ideas and elements of world-building, but it keeps stacking them up unrelentingly without giving them proper form, function, and stability which sadly leads to it falling apart much like the tower in the film.
From a storytelling perspective, this would get a 2/10. The points it gets in storytelling are for having the basics of what makes a story a story: it has a premise with characters, a setting, and conflict. Beyond that, it’s a mess lacking cohesion and—wait for it—substance. Brace yourself for a straightforward run-through of the plot.
A boy loses his mother to a fire during a war and he moves with his father from Tokyo to live with an aunt in a vast rural abode that includes several buildings, a notable one being a mysterious tower said to be built by the boy’s great uncle. The boy—Mahito—emotionlessly goes about adjusting to the new lifestyle which includes exploring the abode’s grounds. He discovers and struggles to enter the tower before giving up and old maids working at the abode inform him of a myth about the tower being built by his great uncle. One night he observes his father and aunt being intimate. One day the boy goes to school and on his way home he gets confronted (as one might when being the new kid) and he gets into a scuffle. After the scuffle and further along the way home he hits himself over the head with a rock which causes some serious bleeding. At home the maids and his father freak out and he lies about what caused the injury. The story takes a turn when a grey heron begins talking to and pursuing the boy with a few other fantastical elements occurring. For an unknown reason the aunt goes missing and Mahito, accompanied by one of the maids, finally is led into the tower with the prospect of seeing his deceased mother and finding his aunt. The mother turns out to be a fake substance that melts away which causes Mahito to angrily attack the heron with a magical arrow that homes in on the heron until it punctures its beak and some sort of midget man comes out of the heron to chastise the boy because he somehow can’t fly anymore with a broken beak. A man who is later revealed to be the great uncle orders the heron/man to take Mahito to his aunt which the heron/man agrees to but then instead the heron/man, Mahito, and the maid sink through the floor and Mahito somehow winds up alone in a random seaside landscape. He wanders along before finding a gate beside a flock of nesting pelicans that has a cryptic inscription that vaguely warns about opening it. The pelicans then began talking to and swarming him before pushing him against the gate and the gate bursting open. A random seafarer who is later revealed to be the maid who followed him into the tower from earlier (this makes no sense but I’ll get to that later) notices while sailing by and takes out a whip that has a magical ability to create fire from its end that she uses to make the pelicans go away. She asks Mahito why he opened the gate, he informs her that he didn’t and the pelicans did, she creates a magic circle of fire that burns a patch on the ground around them, and she instructs him to back away with her to the boat. The reason for them backing away and the message of the gate is left unexplained and is never returned to in the rest of the story. Mahito and the seafarer then go out sailing and catch a big fish and bring it back to the seafarer’s home where a bunch of fantastical entities gather who the seafarer explains are some sort of businessmen looking to trade or buy the fish. These entities don’t play any role past this mention and are never seen again. Mahito and the seafarer cut apart the big fish and a different mob of fantastical entities that are white amorphous blobs called warawara gather to have some of the fish. Later that night Mahito wakes beside some carved dolls of the maids who worked at the abode in the “real” world outside the tower that the seafarer alludes to having some magical quality to them and tells him not to touch them. Their purpose and what this means is never readdressed or explained (except for the one maid who initially followed him into the tower who then turns back into herself after they leave at the end… I’ll get to that later). Mahito goes outside and observes the warawara start floating which the seafarer explains as being people before they’re born (this doesn’t make sense and I won’t get to this later because it also serves no purpose to the plot and has no relevance to anything). Then pelicans start eating the warawara and a mysterious woman the seafarer refers to as Himi creates fireworks that burn some of the pelicans and warawara that then scare away the pelicans. Mahito then uses the bathroom and an old pelican that was gravely injured gives some explanation about the ecosystem within the tower before passing away. Mahito buries the pelican with the help of the heron/man who shows up randomly again and who seems to gain some respect for Mahito. The heron/man then finally brings the story back to where it left off in finding the lost aunt and leads Mahito to some sort of blacksmith’s house where a bunch of human-sized parakeets are who have some other fantastical elements to them as the heron/man says the parakeets can eat an elephant or something. The heron/man creates a diversion while the boy enters the blacksmith’s house only to find more parakeets that try to eat him but then the woman Himi appears in a fire and gets him out of there. Mahito and Himi have some awkward dialogue before Himi leads Mahito further into the tower (which includes everything since Mahito entered it), avoiding more parakeets. Mahito touches a rock that then causes some sparks and Himi warns him that the rock is actually sentient and will get upset if he touches it for some reason. This rock is given no other explanation and serves no other purpose in the plot. They then come across a series of randomly numbered doors Himi explains as leading back to the “real” world outside the tower; when they take one to hide from parakeets, Mahito’s father who is also in search of the lost aunt and his now lost son notices them and charges with the abode’s maids. Mahito and Himi, not ready to leave the tower, go back through the door while a mob of human-sized parakeets flood out the door, returning to a normal size, and Mahito’s father mistakenly believes his son had transformed into a parakeet (I think this was meant to be comedic). Mahito and Himi continue their journey until they then finally make it to what’s referred to as the “delivery room” where Mahito’s aunt is lying in a bed under some rotating paper strips like a ceiling mobile. Mahito goes inside and the aunt yells at him for some reason and then the paper strips magically start attacking them both and somehow Mahito is no longer there and in a completely different place where he walks for a bit before he meets his great uncle. The great uncle has some awkward dialogue involving cryptic talk about the tower and some blocks he has stacked on a table that are supposed to magically keep the tower upright for some reason. Mahito then somehow finds himself in the hands of parakeets in a random kitchen somewhere because I guess the interaction with his great uncle was a dream or something. The heron/man randomly appears again and helps Mahito escape the parakeet kitchen before climbing the tower from the outside (or outer-inside since everywhere is technically magically “inside” the tower until they go through a specific exit I’ll get to later) and they find a convention of parakeets. They see an unconscious Himi with a king parakeet that leads the unconscious Himi to the great uncle where the king parakeet expects to get some sort of benefit (for what and what for are left unanswered). Mahito and the heron/man pursue the king parakeet but are cut off from a way up and fall. The king parakeet hands over Himi’s unconscious body to the great uncle, there’s awkward dialogue that doesn’t resolve anything really, and the king parakeet leaves. Himi wakes up and there’s more awkward dialogue in which Himi tells the great uncle about Mahito visiting the aunt and it’s referenced that Mahito entering the “delivery room” was taboo or something for some reason and none of what’s said matters anyway because it’s forgotten in seconds and never addressed again. Mahito wakes up after his fall and then somehow climbs the tower again with the heron/man while the king parakeet secretly follows them for no apparent reason. On the way the heron/man comments about Mahito having in his pocket a block like the ones keeping the tower up and a doll of a maid he’d apparently taken from the seafarer’s home earlier that the seafarer had told him not to touch. Mahito meets up with Himi again and there’s a sudden strange closeness he expresses with her that’s unearned before they set off toward the great uncle who they find on a hill with a floating rock thing. The great uncle implores Mahito to save the tower by making a new pile of blocks but then the king parakeet comes up and stacks them himself in a precarious manner before he strikes them out of random anger—I’ll guess the king parakeet wanted to be the tower’s master or something. The other pile of blocks keeping the tower up coincidentally fall over at the same time and then the entire landscape (i.e., tower) starts coming apart around them to create generic space with stars and stuff. Mahito, Himi, and the heron/man flee the tower after the great uncle, who I guess doesn’t care anymore about the tower, urges them to leave. Action stuff happens and they make it to the series of randomly numbered doors where Himi suddenly explicitly reveals that she was Mahito’s mother the entire time before she was even alive—somehow—and she takes another door which alludes to the idea she entered the “real” world to be born. Mahito and the heron/man enter the “correct” door to the “real” world and the random maid doll Mahito had pocketed earlier from the seafarer’s home transforms back into the living actual maid, and that’s a thing that happens for some reason. The heron/man then gives a cryptic message to Mahito about remembering the tower and then says that it doesn’t matter anyway before flying off. Mahito’s father and the other maids then find them. There’s a time jump to two years later where Mahito is moving back out of his aunt’s residence to Tokyo with the aunt and his new half-brother the aunt and his father had together and the film abruptly ends.
Remember how I said this was a straightforward run-through of the plot? Just look at that block of text. This is as streamlined as I could make it, and I still don’t think I included everything that happened in the film. If this doesn’t read cohesively, that just goes to show the paradox that when everything is given the same importance and time, nothing is really important. All of the events I explained in the story amount to nothing and have no payoff. Sure, there’s a vague idea of dealing with loss, but the way the film explores it is just bad. If that wasn’t the point or message of the film, then the film simply fails to communicate just what that is. I’ve seen other reviews describe it stylized as an arthouse film, and I somewhat agree due to it being significantly abstract and offbeat in terms of a different sort of narrative, but I believe many mistakenly view this in a good way. This thinking reminds me of films like Mulholland Drive or Stalker that are considered abstract works with profound meanings to people. They very well can be right about this, but my gripe with this thinking is that it’s also pretty often people mistaking ‘intelligent’ with ‘incomprehensible.’
Regarding specific plot and story elements of The Boy and the Heron I’m critical of: the tower (i.e., the primary fantasy element) makes little-to-no sense, the main character acts nonchalantly (i.e., unrealistically) throughout the majority of the events, and most of the main characters have either an unexplained motive or no motive at all. I can maybe interpret a meaning behind the tower being a metaphor for legacy or some such given the great uncle wanted the boy to take it over, but that’s a huge reach that only works on a metaphorical level and not on the level of how the tower fits with the story. Regarding the things I mentioned I’d get to later: the seafarer also being the maid doesn’t make sense because the maid was also the doll; the doors inside the tower that led to the real world don’t make sense since various creatures enter and exit them without apparent effect or catastrophe (as Himi alludes to the importance of leaving through the “right” door) but by the end the doors apparently also bring the seafarer and Himi to their right times and places(?) which carries a load of problems; and the various creatures and ecosystem of the tower collapsing by the end doesn’t seem to matter anyway, which given if the warawara are people before they’re born seems… kind of like a problem? There’s plenty more I could drone on about, but I’ll narrow my gripes with the story to two fundamental questions that relate to two primary plotlines I feel the movie attempts and fails to address:
Why does it matter that the tower stays standing?
What character development is demonstrably shown in Mahito?
If anyone can answer these two questions for me, I might change my mind about the film.
Now, back to the heresy: how is The Boy and the Heron a worthy competitor for Suzume? From my perspective, it isn’t. I know this is subjective, and that’s okay—but it’s not just subjective because The Boy and the Heron’s story is bad. Where it can compete with Suzume is in the animation—but the animation of Suzume is just wonderful to look at. The Boy and the Heron is visually impressive and characteristic of Studio Ghibli, and that’s great, but comparatively it underwhelmed. An example: the various maids in the film have very copy-pasted looks to them from previous Studio Ghibli films which feels… kind of lazy? Another example: the warawara are white amorphous blobs that have very “this is merchandisable” looks to them, which feels… kind of insincere? The only other way it can compete with Suzume is in the score—another but, but the score of Suzume is just wonderful to listen to. Joe Hisaishi is great, but so is RADWIMPS (and Kazuma Jinnouchi). The Boy and the Heron has a serviceable soundtrack, but comparatively it underwhelmed. An example: I can’t give one because I can’t remember a single piece from the film. Meanwhile I hum Suzume’s theme now and then. That it’s immemorable (to me) doesn’t mean it was bad or is undeserving of recognition, but that impact and impression counts for something. I know it’s ridiculous to expect a Merry-Go-Round of Life or A Town with an Ocean View as we can’t always have bangers, but The Boy and the Heron simply lacked that special thing in its music.
All that said, I’ll be generous and say both The Boy and the Heron’s animation and score are competitive with Suzume. But when I factor in the story, pacing, and characters… it’s not even close. So, to answer that dreaded question, I have to say it isn’t a worthy competitor. But wait, we’re not done with the heresy just yet, as I’ve another heretical question: is The Boy and the Heron being carried by prestige?
Some may have noticed I already threw out some names of people who contributed to the two films I’ve discussed. I’ve yet to mention him, but Hayao Miyazaki is a name most people know. I can’t find a single review of The Boy and the Heron that goes without paying tribute to him and his films. That made me think that maybe… just maybe… his name is coloring people’s perception of this film. I mean, the current Rotten Tomatoes score is 96% which is the same as Spirited Away and I have to think… really? I suggested something similar regarding Martin Scorsese’s film Hugo and I posed the idea that maybe that film would have been received differently if there were a different director behind it. I’d like to pose the same idea here: what if The Boy and the Heron was directed by someone else, someone lesser known and who was without a considerable reputation? And what if Studio Ghibli wasn’t attached to it, nor Joe Hisaishi? All of these names, what do they matter when considering the quality or substance of the film?
I’ll quit with the rhetorical questions since I think I’ve made my point. There is a difference in the quality or substance of both The Boy and the Heron and Suzume, yet the way they are perceived is another matter. That perception is what involves prestige.
There’s just a bit more I’d like to discuss about the difference between prestige and substance outside of these two films. Something startling in recent news is that Harvard’s president Claudine Gay had several of her scholarly works discovered to involve plagiarism. While there’s contention on the severity of the plagiarism and what that should amount to, the bottom line is the president of Harvard did indeed plagiarize some stuff according to Harvard’s own standards and its Fellows. Per an NYT article:
A Harvard guide for students defines “plagiarism” broadly. “When you fail to cite your sources, or when you cite them inadequately, you are plagiarizing, which is taken extremely seriously at Harvard,” it says. “Plagiarism is defined as the act of intentionally OR unintentionally submitting work that was written by somebody else.”
While the quality or substance of her scholarly works may leave something to be desired in this sense, it’s interesting to think about whether her prestige as Harvard’s president has some influence on this contention (for better or worse). A final example of where prestige and substance have some interesting interactions… is M. Night Shyamalan.
I really liked The Sixth Sense and I liked The Village, and his more recent movies The Visit and Old were entertaining if not really that great. As far as the other films, I’m aware they are critically lambasted but I can’t really speak on them since I haven’t seen them. One film I have seen that I can speak on is The Last Airbender… but I’m not going to because anything I say about it has likely already been said. M. Night Shyamalan has made a series of works that has earned him some disrepute, and that’s interesting to consider when looking back at his old films or looking at new ones when they release. Are they uncharitably viewed, or are they taken for what they are? Were they too generously viewed before when he had good standing as a director, or were they taken for what they were?
I really mean no disrespect to any of the people whose work I’ve criticized here, I just think the work should stand on its own. Anyway, I really just wanted to rant about The Boy and the Heron. Heh.
