Wolf Children (2012) From the same cloth as Miyazaki’s Meticulous Fables (Review)

In Anime’s golden age, the appeal of this formerly niche Japanese art-style broke down barriers because it actively incorporated global inspirations, with Cowboy Bebop being the crown prince of examples. From the type of stories told, references made – anime’s footprint expanded, turning this once provincial form into something globally recognised. Fast forward to now, you would expect anime to be a mainstream concern. While the fandom is larger, the industry has become more insular due to the unyielding way creators adhere to a singular anime style of story and art. Thank the fetishisation of Japan for that. Consequently, we have an industry that alienates the unfamiliar masses. It is by no means antidotal to this entrenched issue, but Mamoru Hosoda’s Wolf Children works as a deceptively mature contrarian to the status quo.

Execution and design are means to achieve this. While undeniably Japanese in its style, all characters have the most basic appearances, enough to emote effectively – the backgrounds too. The art direction of Wolf Children has a painterly aesthetic, alternating between immense natural beauty and the more dreamlike scenarios where imagery becomes its sparsest. All of which recall a Japanese cinematic quality beyond the anime industry – this is realised through patience and respect of tradition. Montages are employed to stunning effect, and non-sequential imagery frames the drama – meaning, this is a cinematic language that Japanese auteurs champion going all the way back to the silent era. For those that enjoy world cinema, little can be lost in translation or chalked up to not understanding anime.

Within anime, there is one contemporary above all others to express the key Wolf Children sits in in – My Neighbour Totoro. Miyazaki’s masterpiece takes something as universal as stress about a parents illness and embeds the magical quality of the natural world. Hosoda takes an even more common life experience in single parenthood and children leaving home and implants that fantastical spin. In what may prove to be an oxymoron, Wolf Children is both restrained and fantastical. There are none of the ludicrous tropes that make anime so hard to penetrate, no boisterous eccentricities, everything about Wolf Children is 100% committed to the narrative.

Hana is an unassuming student at University whose attention is caught by a mysterious man in her lecture; through studying together, the two grow to be friends. That same young man has a secret: he is the last of the Wolf Men. This bizarre revelation brings the two closer than ever as they become lovers and have children together. These are the titular Wolf Children, the elder being Yuki and the younger Ame. Together they are the picture of a happy family. Until tragedy strikes. The father tries to surprise his young family by preparing a special meal, only for him to die in the hunt, leaving Hana alone with two children she loves deeply but cannot possibly understand. In her desperation and paranoia, she moves the family to the seclusion of the countryside to give her children what she thinks will be their best possible upbringing.

As the family relocate to the country, Wolf Children evolves from the mysitcal fantasy of an otherworldly romanctic drama to something a little more complex. Hana learns how to live self-sufficiently and keep a degree of privacy, and she struggles through the trial and error that comes with children who cannot decide whether they are Human or Wolf. Through Hana’s baptism of fire, the film waxes lyrically about the value of community. After all the tragic death and complications she has gone through, it is heartening to see everything fit into place for Hana – if only momentarily.

Years pass with each new act, so by the time the third act comes around, events revolve around junior school; this brings a new series of issues for these outlandish outsiders. That themes of being split between two worlds and belonging to neither relates to many real world subtexts involving race, non-normative households and more. Thematically compelling that may be, the way the film ends is still a little hardnosed. While it makes perfect sense in the natural, animal world, the resolution is too cynical. The children’s failure to integrate suggests a negative response to relocating for the benefit of children, mixed-race families, single parent households, non-normative upbringings and racial diversity in small town Japan. Almost claiming that the incredibly homogonised state that is Japan is fine how it is. Unfortunately, the ending may have many leaving such a gorgeous film feeling cold.

The comparison to My Neighbour Totoro was deliberate as it works on multiple levels. Miyazaki has called time on his career as an animation director on many occasions – and if The Wind Rises is his last, then Wolf Children is the perfect CV. Like Pixar in the West, Studio Ghibli is the animation studio that elevates the form beyond western mass media’s claim that animated media is for children. I am not suggesting Mamoru Hosoda ups and joins Studio Ghibli; after all, he runs Studio Chizu. Instead, he could fill that spot in people’s affections and hearts. With Wolf Children, he has told a beautifully simple and affecting story with the same positivity and elegance that elevated anime beyond the bootlegs and onto the high streets all those years ago.

Thanks for reading our late review of Wolf Children

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