The Tale of Princess Kaguya Review

I find myself at a loss for words when considering Studio Ghibli's latest, The Tale of Princess Kaguya.  The film left me speechless, perhaps because my jaw hit the floor in such extreme fashion that it lodged there, and still remains lying among the dropped popcorn and straw wrappers.  Isao Takahata has done a marvelous thing here, making not only one of the most beautiful films ever made, but one that packs an immense emotional wallop, and as strong a thematic punch.  As much as The Tale of Princess Kaguya is stylish, it is also substantial, the kind of film that makes viewers' hearts dance and soar, even as they take on the heaviness of what it all means, of everything this story shows.  The Tale of Princess Kaguya is a tale of joyful melancholy, of time passing too quickly, of the contradictions of growing up and being loved.

Based on an ancient Japanese folk tale, The Tale of Princess Kaguya tells a simple story.  A bamboo cutter is out in the field doing a day's work when a shining stalk of bamboo catches his eye.  As he approaches, he discovers a miniature princess, whom he carefully carries home to his wife.  Within minutes, the princess transforms into a quickly growing baby, nursing at her elderly mother's suddenly full breast, and skipping months, even years, as the days and weeks go on.  While her parents call her Princess, the other kids in town name her "Li'l Bamboo," reflective of her rapid growth.  When the bamboo cutter discovers gold and fine cloth in other mystical bamboo stalks, he decides that a higher power is telling him to make a life of luxury for his adopted daughter.

Like Richard Linklater's Boyhood, The Tale of Princess Kaguya revels in the wonder and terror of growing up.  Princess is a darling baby, crawling, bumping, taking her first wobbling steps, each new stage a source of deep happiness for her family, and excited confusion for her neighbors.  The aged bamboo cutter and his wife become jubilant with their new addition, finally parents when their years of childbearing are long-gone.  The bamboo cutter, especially, takes pride in Princess's growth, and his zealous pursuit of a better life for her demonstrates the way parental selflessness easily transforms into a form of detached selfishness.  A life of nobility may bring comfort and fame to Princess, but the bamboo cutter is just as enticed by the reflected glory he will bask in once his Princess lives up to her name.

Classic themes are spun in lovely ways here, such as the tension between life in the city and in the country.  A palatial life is initially novel and thrilling, but the call of the wild never lets Princess Kaguya (a name given to her that means "shining light") feel completely at home in her opulent digs. A band of high-born suitors come seeking Kaguya's hand in marriage, but she finds herself longing for her childhood friend, a sap gatherer named Sutemaru.  The friction always burns within Kaguya, who longs to find home even as she struggles to find herself.  She's a wonderful character, a strong-willed woman who isn't keen to do what others tell her.  Instead, she thinks for herself, defies expectations, and grapples with what it means to genuinely be herself.  Her strange origin causes a pervasive identity crisis: she's not a real princess, and might not even be a real person.  Who does she live for?  What should she do with her time here on Earth?

The characters and story turns are strong enough to hold one's attention, but they become even more entrancing wrapped in the film's beautiful animation.  I've never been so stunned by a film's sheer beauty.  The aesthetic is something like a watercolor come to life, with rough lines and bursts of color.  Eyes shimmer, the mountainside is a patchwork quilt of cherry blossom pink and vibrant green, and a memorable dash from civilization becomes a frenzied burst of impressionistic motion.  Had the film somehow played without subtitles (the film is being shown in dubbed and subtitled versions in some theaters), it still would've proven one of the year's finest cinematic experiences.  Any frame is worthy of hanging on a museum's wall, so awe-inspiring is every detail, line, and color.

As might be expected from a Studio Ghbili effort (even though Miyazaki isn't behind this one), there are supernatural flourishes throughout.  Unlike the film's predecessors, though, there are rather few, most of them serving as bookends to an earthbound story.  Kaguya's origin and eventual fate are fantastical, but everything in between is more ordinary.  The mundane details become extraordinary, though, as Kaguya lives life fully, allowing herself to explore each emotional extreme.  She discovers that there's more joy in a life of highs and lows than to live at a place of constant contentment.  But for us, the viewers, there's no such parallel in the experience of watching The Tale of Princess Kaguya.  This is a film made of highs, constantly beautiful, engaging, funny, and tender.  How appropriate, considering the dreamily dramatic events of the film's finale, that viewers will never forget this stunning tale.