K

Alternate Titles:

The Wind is Rising

The Wind Rises

Plot: 

An autobiographical film about the life of Jiro Horikoshi, the man responsible for the design and creation of the famous Japanese World War II Zero Fighter aircraft. Inspired by the aesthetics of design and the freedom of flying, Jiro pursues a life dedicated to the creation of a beautiful aircraft. The film covers the passage of time from Jiro’s childhood, filled with dreams of engineering, to adulthood as he creates an elegant, flight worthy plane that eventually is used for something quite different than he expected, war.

Director:

Hayao Miyazaki

Studio:

Ghibli

Review:

by Dustin Kramer

Art is personal. Creative self-expression is, by its very nature, a process of externalizing the internal. Many of your favorite movies, music records, and books were labors of love. But is there a point at which one’s art can become too personal? Can dedication and focus breed myopia? In examining Hayao Miyazaki’s latest film, I may have found the answer.

The Wind Rises tells a fictionalized account of the life of Jiro Horikoshi, the man responsible for designing Japan’s infamous Mitsubishi A6M Zero fighter airplane. The aircraft is known for its use during World War II, particularly in the attack on Pearl Harbor and in kamikaze missions. We begin with Jiro as a child in the early 20th century dreaming of flying machines and idolizing seminal figures in the then-young field of aeronautical engineering. Since poor sight will keep the young man from flying an airplane of his own, he attends university in the hopes of building them instead. Each act is ushered in with a scene featuring a strong gust of wind — a nice bit of theming with the title. The first reel contains some of the best pacing in Studio Ghibli’s entire oeuvre. After that, the story throws on the brakes and crawls through a slight, clichéd recount of the man’s endeavors up to just before the notorious event in Hawaii that brought the United States into the second World War.

The movie is, as expected, an impressive visual outing by the legendary Studio Ghibli. The candy-coated look that has defined Miyazaki’s work since 2001′s Spirited Away is on full display here. The interpretation of the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923, in which the ground and everything upon it moves like violent ocean waves, is probably the most impressive scene in the picture from an animation perspective. In a departure from Miyazaki’s usual fare, there are no cute, strange, or ugly creatures to break up the monotony of animated human beings, but the character designs are attractive and diverse enough to keep things interesting aesthetically.

With the knowledge that Miyazaki is somewhat of an aviation fanatic (he has said as much himself), it’s surprising how decidedly no-frills the flying sequences are. The two main types of flying scenes are test flights of Horikoshi’s designs and dream sequences where he has conversations with famed aeronautical engineer Gianni Caproni. What we get in the test flight sequences are a lot of long wide shots, as though the audience is watching from the ground. The dreams on the other hand are mostly medium shots, two-shots, and close ups that don’t really show off the aircraft that the characters are riding. The two most impressive of these scenes is a dream sequence that opens the flick and, somewhat ironically, a scene involving paper airplanes, but nothing quite as exhilarating is ever revisited. We’ve seen much better flying sequences from the animator in years past, such as in Porco Rosso, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, and Castle in the Sky.

Joe Hisaishi has made a career for himself as a solo artist who happens to score Ghibli films and in doing so has composed some of the greatest scores of all time. The orchestrated soundtrack to this movie is simple in its melodies and assimilates into the emotional atmosphere of every scene. The vocal theme song is lovely but feels like it came out of a decade about halfway between the present and when the movie is set.

An astute ear will notice something interesting that has been done with the foley effects. They are, by and large, created with human voices. Things like the mechanical locomotion of a train and the roaring ground during the aforementioned earthquake are given a special kind of vitality that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced in a motion picture before.

As Jiro dreams and draws and test flies his creations, we learn little more about the man behind the machine than we did at the title card. Horikoshi is reserved and zealous; this much is clear. A scene early on with his younger sister reveals that he is perhaps neglectful of his family in service of his aspirations. A poignant parallel can be drawn here to Miyazaki, who has been accused of allowing his work to detract from other aspects of his life. The animator even has Jiro smoke Cherry cigarettes, his own brand of choice. The scene with his sister is reflected later when she comes to visit Horikoshi as an adult and complains about his familial inattention yet again. Both scenes outline this character flaw in the engineer but are played for laughs as though ‘little sister nags older brother because that’s what little sisters do.’ The filmmaker clearly admires and relates with his subject, but an abundance of adulation and a lack of honest self-appraisal weaken the core of his most personal work to date.

After a couple of aeronautic failures and an exodus to pre-war Germany, our hero finds love. The adroit development of Horikoshi and Naoko Satomi’s fictitious relationship is managed over just a couple of scenes, including one mentioned earlier featuring paper airplanes. This portion of the narrative is the most captivating of the picture and is a truly touching depiction of young love. However, the whole thing takes a not-so-surprising turn for the hackneyed when Naoko confesses that she has tuberculosis. I suppose the void of dramatic tension elsewhere in the story forced Hayao’s hand, and out popped this done-to-death (pun intended) contrivance. His devotion to his sickly wife plays in contrast to earlier scenes with his younger sister, but because those scenes never cemented the necessary character flaw, the turnaround doesn’t feel like much of a redemption.

The standout performance belongs to Miori Takimoto, who provides the voice for Naoko Satomi. Despite the artifice of the character’s illness, Takimoto imbues the young woman with a delicate strength that is characteristic of a victim of terminal illness. Hideaki Anno’s efforts as Horikoshi aren’t quite so rewarding. Neon Genesis Evangelion‘s director-turned-voice-actor delivers what one might expect of a non-performer. Anno is wooden and one-note. However, he has a weathered quality to his voice that manages to bring something to the character, although it doesn’t make up for the actor’s shortcomings.

It is no secret that the product of Jiro Hirokoshi’s enterprise became responsible for much death and destruction in the years following the events of the film. The irony of his dream to “create something beautiful” being perverted should be the nucleus of this story’s themes. But in the final dream sequence — of which there are several — the horrors of the forthcoming war are swept under the rug in way that absolves Jiro’s guilt and allows him to be proud of what he has accomplished.

Returning to my questions at the outset of this piece, I think The Wind Risesis a perfect example of an artist getting too close to his or her art. The real irony is that the subject suffers from the same affliction as the storyteller. Both are too nearsighted to see beyond their affection for their craft. Horikoshi is as blind to what lies in store for his beautiful creations as Miyazaki is to the very thing that makes this story compelling. Maybe the filmmaker sees too much of himself in the engineer but isn’t prepared to admit his own deficiencies enough to paint a realistic portrait of this imperfect man. In the end, this latest effort by Studio Ghibli lacks the teeth that it needs to tell the tale it should be telling. What we get instead is a war film without war and a love story with a little too much Love Story. And perhaps worst of all, it doesn’t have anything to say.