2010's Catch-Up: The Wind Rises (3/13/2020)

I don't think I've seen a film that's had quite the same impact on me as The Wind Rises. Hayao Miyazaki's final film (at least, at the time it was to be his last) is a complex and fascinating beast to pick apart. It's a large departure from his previous work, yet it's also a twisted mirror that he seems to be using to look back on his entire career. The view is as lovely and sweet as it is haunting and melancholy. It's a beautiful film that's incredibly easy to respect - it also did very little to engage me on a personal level.

The first thing there is to say about The Wind Rises is that it's quite possibly the most beautiful animated film I've ever seen. Even by Miyazaki's incredibly accomplished standards, this is an absolutely stunning visual delight. Here, Miyazaki combines the surreal fantasy visuals of his normal work and stunningly beautiful renditions of real life as fluidly as he's ever done, moving between scenes set in reality and scenes set in an expansive dreamscape often so fluidly that it's easy to wonder which world is more real and more important to the protagonist. Bright colors and the fluid motions of wind permeate every shot, and the flight scenes - of which there are, of course, many - are breathtaking and stunning. There is so much beauty and passion put into this work that it's nearly impossible not to admire on some level.

The same can be said for what lurks under the hood as well. The Wind Rises is a film about dreamers and their dreams, and what happens when those dreams lead to an inevitable dark end but are pursued regardless. The protagonist is Jiro Horikoshi, a real historical figure who served as an aeronautical engineer that designed the Mitsubishi Zero, the plane used as a kamikaze bomber for the Japanese in World War II. Jiro's passion for airplanes and flight trumps nearly everything else in his life, and though he knows they will be used for war, he can't resist the allure of a life spent designing the beautiful machines. From this extends a life of both joy and sadness, as the inevitable ending of many aspects of his life hangs over his head, but he pushes on in spite of it, taking every day as a gift.

So much of Miyazaki's world view can be determined from this film. There's a longing for times long gone; times when Japan was once a beautiful, peaceful place. There was poverty, but there was light and life, and all of that was taken away by the horrors of World War II. There's a sense that he knows he has to give up on his passion of animation, and if one knows about his negative feelings towards the trajectory of both the Japanese animation industry and the world as a whole, this is accentuated. But he doesn't seem to regret the course of his own life's work. Perhaps this is only my reading of it, but as I don't know the man personally, that's all I can really go off of.

These emotions - of both wonder and sadness - are delivered in a way only a master filmmaker can truly achieve - through the images and sequences that are shown to us, and the music accompanying them. Images, contemplation and reflection; the essence of visual storytelling. The Wind Rises is a movie overflowing with emotion, but it also allows us to bring our own emotions to the table as well to relate and experience.

Unfortunately, this is where the movie falls short for me personally, and the subjectivity of film as an art form really comes into focus. I admire Miyazaki as an artist immensely, and films like Spirited Away and Princess Mononoke are among my absolute favorites, but his worldview is often very different from mine. It can be difficult for me to meet him on the same page, and this is one of the most glaring examples. Throughout the entire runtime, I struggled to engage with The Wind Rises, and often found myself passively enjoying the scenery rather than actively engaging with the the images and themes that so often make the best of Miyazaki's work wonderful. I hate to say it, but I really couldn't bring myself to care much for the protagonist or the plot, and the brilliance of the themes are becoming far more clear to me as I think on the film than they were in the moment. Overall, despite the brilliance in it, The Wind Rises was often just... boring to me.

There are some other, more concrete flaws I can point out as well. Though The Wind Rises is hardly pro-war, the viscious imperialism of Japan at this point in time is thoroughly glossed over, and though Nazi Germany is involved with the plot there's very little condemnation. I'm not at all suggesting that Miyzaki is supportive of either of these regimes, rather that the film feels rather reductive in its historical portrayal. The protagonist is somewhat dull, and the plot suffers pacing issues common to biopics. There are some plot threads that are brought up and seemingly never resolved, such as one in particular involving Japan's secret police.

All of this leaves me torn. On the one hand, The Wind Rises is the work of a master, filled with emotion and passion and beautiful images that I still find myself thinking about. On the other, it did very little for me personally, and there are better Miyazaki stories overall. Ultimately, I think my respect for it wins out, but I can't bring myself to love it despite how brilliant it often is. I think somewhere in this film is a true flawed masterpiece that I may one day coax out after some time has passed and repeated viewings been completed. Until then, I'll have to say that while this movie is definitely one of Miyazaki's stronger visions, it's not quite among his most essential experiences.

Check out my 2010s Catch-Up Scorecard on Letterboxd here!