The Wind Rises (2013): 8/10
Lovely, but problematic. The Wind Rises is a highly fictionalized account of the life of Jiro Horikoshi, a Japanese airplane designer whose primary contribution to history was the legendary Zero fighter--check it out on Wikipedia if you want a fascinating read. As one would expect from Hayao Miyazaki, The Wind Rises is a gorgeous film, impeccable in every aspect of its visual presentation. There are images here to rival some of Miyazaki's best work: an early dream sequence that quickly becomes a nightmare is perhaps the standout, but every time the action shifts to the air (whether in dream or in reality) is a wonderful moment, and the detail that goes into every aspect of the film's visuals is to be applauded. (Another standout sequence is a terrifying earthquake, where the ground ripples as if alive, and monstrous roars are frequently heard). I saw the English dubbed version of the film, so can't comment on the original Japanese actors, but the English voice actors all played their roles well (keep an ear out for a wonderful appearance by an un-credited Werner Herzog). The music, by Joe Hisaishi, is of typically high quality (though I felt its central theme was used a little too repetitively in the film), and the sound design is really something else. Pay attention especially to the planes, which sound as if they were voiced by people imitating planes. It's a slightly creepy, slightly funny effect, reminiscent of the way children voice vehicles when playing with toys.
Two things that always come across strongly in Miyazaki's films are his portrayals of nature and his portrayals of machinery--The Wind Rises excels especially with regards to the latter. Most of his films have expressed a fascination with flight or with flying machines (the guy's practically an airship fetishist)--until now, Porco Rosso seemed to be the film most attuned to the director's personal interests. As with that film, the best parts of The Wind Rises are those that are directly concerned with airplane design and operation. It's hard to get an audience interested in flush rivets, but dammit, The Wind Rises succeeds admirably. The passion that the creators of this film and the people they've fictionalized have for planes and plane design is evident in every frame--we don't merely believe that planes are beautiful because the characters rhapsodize about them so much. We actually see that they are beautiful, and we are as elated (and exhausted) as Jiro is when engineering formulas, sketches, and crates containing parts made from extruded aluminum all come together to create something that had only existed previously in the mind's eye of the object's dreamer. If only I could end the review there--I would say that The Wind Rises is a restrained but nonetheless ambitious and thought-provoking visual masterpiece.
But there's got to be more to it than that. Jiro's planes, beautiful as they may have been, were killing machines, and they were effective ones. Jiro expresses some amount of regret at this fact in the film--when working on a bomber design, he laments that the plane, which had originally been built to carry human cargo, must now carry bombs instead, and at another point he half-jokes that he could make the perfect prototype for his fighter plane if only he could remove the guns. Still, in pursuing his exploration of beauty and how it can be corrupted, Miyazaki makes a critical misstep in how vastly he abstracts the human cost of Jiro's dream machine--the planes themselves are ultimately lamented more by Jiro (as far as we are allowed to see) than even the humans that died flying them, never mind the lives that were snuffed out in combat during the war. Of course, this perceived misstep could simply be due to how much Miyazaki sympathizes with the character Jiro as a fellow artist (I think you could make a strong point for Jiro being based heavily on Miyazaki himself)--but does even this charmingly fictionalized version of Jiro deserve our sympathy? As portrayed, he was simply a driven engineer who loved his country and was passionate about his work. Easy to sympathize with, right? Still, Jiro's single-mindedness, while admirable to some respect, is also troublesome, and the tragic romantic subplot that drives the latter half of the film is equally worrisome--he neglects the supposed love of his life and to some degree trivializes her poor health, while managing to disguise his neglectful behavior with/as love. Perhaps the fault lies in me as a somewhat cynical viewer--Miyazaki is obviously concerned with only a narrow band of themes here, and there's no denying that he explores the ones that he cares about fully and beautifully. *Still,* I can't help but be perturbed by how unconcerned he seems to be with things that I find to be greatly concerning--I think it's slightly dishonest of Miyazaki (a self-confessed cynic, despite all film evidence to the contrary) to tell this otherwise perfect tale of lament without also lamenting the great human cost tied up in the events of this film. The last line of the film, in particular, left a sour taste in my mouth--that it followed one of the best lines in the film just hurt even worse. (If only we all had Italian spirit guides that prevented us from examining our failings with the promise of a good wine.)
So yes, The Wind Rises is an imperfect film. I might even call it wildly imperfect, if I were not so enamored with everything that it does well. I do not believe that it touches what I consider to be the 'holy' trinity of his work (Spirited Away, Porco Rosso, and Princess Mononoke). But it is culminating in a way that those films aren't. Miyazaki has claimed retirement after almost every film he's made since 1997's Princess Mononoke, but this is the first film of his that seems 'final.' It's deeply serious, unapologetic, and obviously intensely personal. If it is not the final word on the themes that have long haunted his work, it is at least a grand index of them, in spite of its narrow focus. Said narrow focus set against a politically complex background will turn some viewers off, as will the film's length and methodical plotting and pacing. Fans who appreciate Miyazaki's more whimsical work may also find themselves at a loss--there is very little here on the surface of the same Miyazaki that made My Neighbor Totoro or Ponyo. And movie-goers allergic to melodrama will bemoan the character of Naoko and her influence on the plot. But, to crib (and twist) a line from the film, The Wind Rises is a pyramid. You'll have to go see it to grasp what I mean.