‘The Tale of the Princess Kaguya’ Review
There are feel good films and then there films that are good for the soul. The Tale of the Princess Kaguya is of the latter. Based on a Japanese folktale, it starts off like a light and odd fable but leaves you with a deepening sense of melancholy and yearning, long before the credits role.
Isao Takahata’s films (Grave of the Fireflies, My Neighbours the Yamadas) tend to lean towards more realistic narratives, unlike his co-founder Hayao Miyazaki, so his adoption of surrealism comes as a pleasant surprise. Presented in the style of watercolour on handpainted scrolls, the film is awash with soft pastel hues and touches of vibrant colours. The story takes us on a journey of Princess Kaguya’s life, from when she was found in the woods to the decisions that lead to the end of her life on Earth.
It starts off in the countryside; a bamboo cutter, Miyatsuko, finds Princess Kaguya nestled in a bamboo stalk. He takes her home and together with his wife decide to raise her. Princess Kaguya’s growth happens in unannounced, amusing spurts and brings on magical attributes to those around her, such as her mother being immediately able to breastfeed. This is a clear sign to Miyatsuko about the girl’s later role in life.
A happy and free-spirited child, Princess Kaguya’s joy doesn’t just reach those around her but extends to the audience as well. Her joy is fun to watch. She grows up with the neighbourhood boys and with them gets into scrapes and mischief only children can have. While the boys call her L’il Bamboo, her parents call her Princess. This indicates a divide already present in her life. Although she enjoys the spontaneity of her country life and being surrounded by nature, her parents’ belief – particularly her father’s – and insistence on her noble destiny rejects her simple life. So when Miyatsuko finds fine, exquisite cloth and gold in the bamboo stalks, this marks the end of Princess Kaguya’s life in the countryside with her friends. He takes it as divine affirmation that his daughter is royalty and decides it is time to bring her to the city and introduce her to high society. On that day of discovery, Princess Kaguya comes home to find her parents packed up and ready to leave to the city. The house she grew up in as she walks off with them is dark and glum, a contrast to the open, airy house she took her first few baby steps in.
Princess Kaguya finds herself in a mansion with new clothes and servants; all of which she loves and embraces. She is appointed a governess to tame and teach her the ways of nobility to which she rebels. She prefers to be free and spontaneous, fighting for her independence and will. She has become a manifestation of her father’s dreams and is torn between the need to be free and her duty to her parents. Although she is pursued by five suitors of noble breeding, she sends them away on impossible tasks, wanting to be left alone. Even with the emperor she is unmoved. However, the film isn’t only a story about independence – there is a curious, expanding sadness to Princess Kaguya that eventually the audience realises is about loss. And despite her father’s determined misguidance, the film doesn’t neglect her parents’ love and vulnerability reminding us of their own humanity.
The animation style is simple. The backgrounds taper and fade off into the edges giving the film a soft, dreamy look adding to the vulnerability of the main characters and the temperance of Princess Kaguya’s life. At climatic points of the film, the growing intensity of line quality heightens the atmosphere, drawing and absorbing the audience into the scene. The majestic score by Joe Hisaishi complements the film, driving the audience into and along with the story. Particularly memorable were the wind and string instruments during the lighthearted times, the disconcerting piano notes for unsettling moments and the xylophone to accentuate her celestial nature.
The Tale of the Princess Kaguya quietly resonates with metaphors and symbolism, relatable despite its Japanese cultural idiosyncrasies. At one point in the film, Princess Kaguya bends down to a small garden she tends to in her mansion and says, “It looks different from here.” We see the garden from a finger’s span off the ground and realise that it looks like her old home in the countryside with its humble wooden hut, the bridge over babbling brook and bamboo forest. Her yearning cries out to the audience.
Although some moments are stretched thin and a tad long, the film is breathtaking and leaves you with a sense of grounding. Another beautiful film directed by Isao Takahata.