THE WIND RISES

If creating art leads to death and destruction, do we still create?

100/100

Original Release: 2013

Directed By: Hayao Miyazaki

Cast: Hideaki Anno, Miori Takimoto, Hidetoshi Nishijima

Favourite Quote:

“The wind is rising, we must try to live.”

Favourite Shot:

Hayao Miyazaki’s eleventh film The Wind Rises is about planes. Tranquil, mesmerising and divine planes. Planes that move through the air so naturally - it seems as if they had always existed. 

But it is also about how these same beautiful creations, once completed and sent out into the world to be used by humans, can be used for things they weren’t meant for. 

Set during the Second World War, The Wind Rises, is about how these planes were used as killing machines. These same beautiful dreams were destroyed in fiery explosions which also killed their pilot. 

The Wind Rises is about this tension. Do we create the things our hearts demand of us even if these same things are destined for annihilation?

The basis for The Wind Rises is quite interesting. It is at once an animated, fictionalised, biopic of a real Japanese aircraft designer, Jiro Horikoshi (Hideaki Anno), and also an adaptation of a Japanese novella called The Wind Has Risen. 

It is a fascinating amalgamation of the two as well as many other influences including Thomas Mann’s novel The Magic Mountain and the poem which influenced the film’s title. 

And because we also know what is ultimately going to happen to these planes, do we judge Jiro for continuing to make them, or do we shift the blame to someone else?

“The wind is rising, we must try to live.” This is the quote from the poem which is repeated over and over again throughout the film. The first time is in an early dream sequence where young Jiro meets with his hero Caproni - the legendary Italian aircraft designer and engineer - and they talk about planes which are ‘dreams’, ideas for the future of aircraft and philosophies for life. 

Jiro continually has these dreams as he grows, and this imaginary version of a real figure (just like Jiro in the movie) becomes his mentor in his work and in his life. These dream sequences are a highlight of the film. They are quiet, breathless, meditative, magical. And they are beautifully set amongst the white clouds and blue sky. 

They are the part of the film illustrating the greatest parts of creativity and imagination. The way our creations can merge the imaginary with the real.

There are two main storylines in the film. One follows Jiro’s success and heartbreaks during his career. It shows his dedication and addiction to his dream. He spends almost every waking moment thinking about planes or actually creating them.

And we watch as he succeeds, fails, builds relationships with others who are trying to do the same. And we watch as his genius is realised. One main thread of the film is that Jiro wants to build a plane inspired by the precise curve of a mackeral bone. And we watch as his vision takes shape.

These sections are inspiring, but they also beg the question of whether Jiro is truly living life to the fullest? How would you judge someone who spent their whole life sitting at a desk, thinking about planes? Is it really worth it?

And because we also know what is ultimately going to happen to these planes, do we judge Jiro for continuing to make them, or do we shift the blame to someone else?

​

The other storyline of the film is the relationship between Jiro and Nahoko (Miori Takimoto). They meet early on when they are on a train together as a devastating earthquake hits. During the earthquake Nahoko’s caretaker is injured and Jiro carries her all the way home. 

The animation in the earthquake sequence is truly breathtaking. The earthquake is animated like a moving force, as if it is alive. 

The sound design of the film is also extremely unorthodox and effective. Most of the background sound (sounds of the planes, earthquakes, other elements) is achieved through a human voice imitating the sound that the thing would make. This gives the scenes an eerie atmosphere. On one hand it sounds like a child playing with toys and making the sounds with their mouth but on the other, it gives all of these things a human quality.

Jiro doesn’t encounter Nahoko again until years later when he is holidaying at a sanitarium in the mountains and recognises her. They fall in love - but when Jiro proposes, Nahoko reveals she has tuberculosis and that she won’t marry him until she gets better.

And the rest of their relationship is spent knowing that Nahoko could, and eventually will, die from this terrible illness. It is hearbreaking to watch as Jiro continues to work as hard as ever on his planes, while the love of his life slowly dies.

And the devastating shot of the fragile Nahoko’s face bleeding onto a canvas which she is painting on is so cruel and painful that it makes you hate the world we live in.

But when put into context with the rest of the story: Jiro’s beautiful dreams being used for death and destruction, we can see a similarity. Do you continue making the beautiful dreams in your imagination come true, even if you know what they are destined for? Do you marry the woman you love, even if you know how it is going to end? The wind is rising, do you try to live?

At its core The Wind Rises preaches a simple message (a message which has been baked into most of Miyazaki’s films) - life is a chaotic, heartbreaking, frustrating, beautiful and sad thing that we will never understand and no matter what happens the only thing we can really do about it is try and live it.