Children who chase voices from deep below

Written by Ross Locksley on 20 Nov 2011

While we reviewed the film some time ago thanks to Elliott Page (available here) I wanted to share my own experience of the film given how I found its themes so relatable.

Makato Shinkai's pedigree of absurdly beautiful animated features is well established - his ability to explore new worlds and concepts in exquisite detail has made him one of the anime industry's leading Directors thanks to films such as Voices of  a Distant Star and 5cm per Second. With his latest feature, Shinkai takes us beyond the mortal realm and into a mythical underworld where a young girl named Asuna will discover what it means to experience grief, loss and hope.

Set in a sleepy village, we're introduced to the lonely Asuna, a bright, cheerful girl who lives a mostly solitary existence with her widowed mother and a small kitten called Mimi. After school, she climbs the local mountain to her own little den and listens to radio signals which she picks up on a home-made radio, powered by quartz stone.

The feeling of isolation that the film projects is impressive. Anyone who has lived on their own in a village can certainly appreciate the daily chores that become part of the fabric of existence, and Asuna's ability to maintain friendships at school whilst seemingly being more comfortable at home will certainly ring true to anyone who grew up an only child. Her wide-eyed optimism is a refreshing change from many of the standard anime tropes, and instantly places the film into Ghibli territory with the lead character's similarities to Chihiro from Spirited Away.

The film really starts when Asuna, perched atop her mountain hideaway, picks up a haunting song on her radio that moves her deeply. A few days later, the appearance of a young boy named Shun who saves her from a bear-like creature gives the girl a glimpse into a new kind of friendship that stirs something within her that she can't quite explain. 

When this friendship is lost, it's the catalyst that starts Asuna on a path to explore her own grief, and tests the lengths to which she will go to overcome it.

Where Elliott found the multiple plot-threads a little jarring, I have to admit I thought they gelled together well. Almost everyone in the film with a talking role is trying to deal with loss, and it's the way in which these characters express their feelings that gives the film a unique voice.

The film's other principle characters also struggle with their losses; Shin, (Shun's younger brother) represses his feelings while Asuna's teacher Mr Morisaki struggles with his obsession to reunite with his dead wife. In many ways I can see how Asuna might seem like a third wheel, but she's learning from the actions, mistakes and experience of those around her to shape her own view on death. Her experiences with other characters, such as a young village girl named Mina and her grandfather also make an impact. Mina is unable to speak due to witnessing the loss of her parents, and the village elder views death with a quiet dignity.

It's a layered and often moving look into how we deal with death and just how far grief will take us before we lose ourselves to it entirely. The loss of any one of these voices would have lessened the film as a whole, and for that reason I'd never change a minute of it. Shinkai's handling of his characters ensures that each is sympathetic and entirely believable.