The Red Turtle (2016): A-
Directed by Michael Dudok de Wit
In its latest feature film, The Red Turtle, celebrated Japanese animation studio, Studio Ghibli, once again creates magic. While legendary director Hayao Miyazaki has set expectations for the studio impossibly high and will always be Studio Ghibli’s most revered contributor, Dutch-British animator and director Michael Dudok de Wit walks a tightrope and makes it to the other side, impressively channelling the spirit and energy of the studio while ultimately creating a work of art that is all his own. The film is a wordless masterpiece that explores the full range of human emotion through the virtuosic use of sound and color.
The Red Turtle follows the arc of a man’s life after he is stranded on a deserted tropical island and forced to remain by a striking, and enormous, red sea turtle. In many ways, the man is equally mysterious. We never learn his name - he is described only as “The Father” - or how he came to be swept up by the sea, but we are instantly invested in his survival. However, what follows is not simply another rehashed castaway story. Instead, Studio Ghibli has produced another profound and moving reverie on the essence of human existence and the codependence of humankind and nature.
The Red Turtle has no spoken dialogue, but what results is something new and even more impactful. Since there are no words to listen to, our eyes and ears are more acutely attuned to the messages conveyed through sound and vibrant color. This is the beauty of the animated medium. The characters don’t need to spell out how they feel in words when their internal struggles and joys are so clearly communicated by the score and through the carefully crafted images. This is the real achievement. Free from the limitations of the spoken word, Dudok de Wit uses images and sound alone to explore the full spectrum of human experience. We feel it all, from the dread of loneliness and isolation to the exhilaration of newly discovered love. He is so good at what he does that even the sand crabs and palm trees seem to be full of feeling and emotion.
Every frame of this film is visually breathtaking. Dudok de Wit brings his simply drawn characters to life, allowing us to believe in their humanity despite their animated features and making it easy to experience the action with them. Whether it’s the power of a crashing tsunami or the weightlessness of floating in a tranquil ocean, we feel the images on the screen viscerally.
The film moves seamlessly between dream and reality, blurring the lines between these moments with ease. And while the themes of intimacy and interconnectedness between humans and nature seem apparent, these dreamy sequences leave plenty of room for viewers to wonder, imagine, and contemplate for themselves.
Over the course of the film, we are introduced to the others, a nameless woman (“The Mother”) and an exuberant, but lonely child (“The Son”). The bonds between these characters are tangible and the love between them certain, but we are never given much more context about any of them. Is this woman or this child even real? Are they human or are they deities? Or do they represent some other aspect of the natural world? We never get these answers, but by the end of the film, we’re left to question whether it even matters at all.
As you watch the film, it’s hard not to think about The Great Wave off Kanagawa, the instantly recognizable woodblock print by Japanese artist Katsushika Hokusai. In that print, we see a massive, crashing wave frozen mid-crest, the bright whites and deep blues of the wave towering over Mt. Fuji in the background. The Red Turtle feels like an expansion of that piece, a contemplation on the beauty and power of nature captured in the simplicity of a crested wave. Dudok de Wit himself seems to give a nod to the classic work in one of the film’s most poignant moments.
There are certainly moments when the magic almost fades. On at least one occasion, the mood starts creeping toward sentimentality. Thankfully, it never actually crosses that line into melodrama or sap. Allow the film as a whole to draw you in, and you’ll be swept away for a thrilling ride. The pace of the film is deliberately slow, which may be frustrating for some viewers, but for those that have the patience and attention span, the payoff is more than worth it. We are watching a man’s life unfold, and this kind of heady poetry is hard to present any faster.
While Dudok de Wit has the unenviable task of following in the footsteps of giants like Miyazaki, The Red Turtle is a monumental achievement in its own right, fitting in perfectly with the rest of the Studio Ghibli canon, and striking the elusive balance between comedy, drama, and enlightened meditation. This is cinema at its best. Take it in, sit with it, and let the colors and sounds work their magic.
