Kubo and the Two Strings

Initial release: August 18, 2016

Director: Travis Knight

Production company: LAIKA

Distributed by: Focus Features

3.8/5 Bones

So I guess everyone was expecting this review from me awhile ago, huh? I saw the film opening night and then it was radio silence from me. To be fair I did put out two reviews that week, but it’s been ages since then. Yeah, I’ve been busy, but I’ve also had a really hard time gathering my thoughts on this film.

Anyone who knows me knows of my passion and devotion to LAIKA, the stop-motion animation company behind Kubo and the Two Strings, Coraline, Paranorman and The Boxtrolls.  Stop-motion is my favourite medium of animation, begun when I was three years old with my first viewing of The Nightmare Before Christmas (which shares a director with Coraline) and the Rankin-Bass Christmas specials, like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

Speaking of, getting the newest LAIKA film is a Christmas that only comes every two years. You have no idea how excited I get to welcome the newest member of the family onto my Blu-ray shelf. Coraline rescued theatrical stop-motion and pushed it to new heights, and each subsequent release has pushed it forward in such massive strides. Kubo is no disappointment there - it features some of the most creative techniques ever put to film. Before I go on, I really must commend the intense visual poetry of Kubo. It does its Japanese setting and characters justice through its pure passion to not just its visual aesthetic, but with tones and silences lifted straight from Kurosawa and other Japanese films. If you keep your eyes peeled, you may notice a Toshiro Mifune lookalike near the end.

There’s also the origami figures that move with such personality and style, and the hulking sword-studded skeleton and entangling Eye-beast, which are the largest stop-motion puppets ever created. But the way they move - they’re awestriking, languid, violent, and full of emotion.

Just...duuuude…. I call dibbs on next! I wanna try it I wanna I wanna!

This goes even more so for the human and animal characters. Every character has a unique and fluid way of expressing character in every motion, word, or stillness. The linetests for the characters is positively Disneyesque in their fluidity and empathetic caricature. (The granny character in particular is a stand out, the most lively puppet character I’ve ever seen.) And let’s not forget the visual design of the whole thing. So many times I caught myself sighing and staring deeply into the fantastic sets, the carefully shagginess of Monkey’s fur, the way the lights gently caressed Kubo’s sculpted face, the heaviness and texture of their hair as it moved in the heavy, accented way. Fantasy is scripted into the very DNA of every part of this production, but the realism in the expressions and extremely human acting is what makes it truly enchanting. Several times I saw Kubo make a face that reminded me of close friends. Even characters who are never expanded upon much are given backstory by an eyebrow raise or doffing of a hat. The mysterious Moon Emperor is never seen until the end, but his unexpectedly warm and animated performance makes it feel as if you know him better than your own family members.

Perhaps you’re starting the feel confused by the names and characters I’m throwing around willy-nilly. Who is Kubo? What’s a Moon-Emperor and a Monkey got to do with each other? Aren’t you supposed to do a cursory summary before all this to help me keep it straight?

You are right, dear reader. I am terribly sorry. This is on me, I’m afraid. The truth is I have another passion aside from the technique of stop-motion. Story. Now, I believe that story is carried as much by aesthetic and visuals as by its nuts and bolts. But aesthetics are often an unconscious thing, and nuts and bolts are the bones that make the difference between pleasant evening at the movies and a lifelong passion and a special edition disk. I fall in love with characters, with ideas, with narratives that sweep beyond their players and make me intensely long to know ‘What happens next?’

Kubo was that film, for the first half at least. Then it tragically seems to doubt itself, dumb down its potential, and finally squash itself into a more traditional form for its final act, at the expense of making its main character go against his personality and his good sense.

So, let’s talk story, even if it means being less enthused than I want to be:

Kubo is a one-eyed boy who lives with his mother near a small village. His mother is tragically brain-damaged, having had her head struck against a rock while escaping with her son from the Moon King. She’s a hollow shell of a person until dusk falls, when for a few moments she's herself again, and even then has lapses in memory. As a result, Kubo knows little about where he came from, only that he must be home before sunset without fail. Both are able to animate paper with the help of a shamisen, a lute-like instrument. Kubo uses his abilities to make money in the town, often attempting to tell the fragmented story of his father, of which his mother occasionally recalls. Of course, one night he doesn’t make it home in time, and the light of the moon finds him. Before he knows it, he’s being pursued by his evil masked women and the cruel Moon King, who wishes to take away Kubo’s remaining eye. His mother gone, he finds himself instead left to mercies of her final spell, the brusque Monkey. With his new shaggy guardian, he must now search for the legendary armour said to make the wearer strong enough to fight the gods.

Gah so friggin’ cool. The action is so intense to do in stop-motion.

What follows is the best part of the film. The interplay of the resentful Kubo and the no-nonsense Monkey is intensely funny but also creates such likable characters you’re invested from then on. While the armour fetch-quest is the oldest in the book, in truth it’s a great template for new locations and a chance to really bond characters. Monkey is such a standout, managing to make your no-nonsense math teacher the most heroic character in the whole piece. Later they run into Beetle, a cursed former acolyte of Kubo’s father. As they search for the armour, it’s impossible to ignore the rather sombre theme of the piece : this is a rumination on death, but not death as in mortality or afterlife : but the way death can deny us access to those we desperately need, and how we are left with only imaginings and memories that are not the same as the real article. Kubo is constantly searching for his mother and his father throughout the film. That he can only find reflections of them is touching and tragic. There’s a deep moment when Kubo sits between Monkey and Beetle, having a meal. Here he finds a moment of happiness that he is able to eat like a family, even if these people only hold traits from his original parents. There’s a lovely feeling of coming to know someone from how they touched and affected the world and others. It’s deep and moving, and makes me wonder how I well I know my own parents.

Unfortunately this is only minutes before the story takes a truly unfortunate turn. The first half of this film is thoughtful, even while being action packed. There are many elements that feel like nods to discerning viewers, and hints towards a deeper meaning in the story. All of this is thrown away in the second half. What was hinted is made painfully clear to the point where all other interesting interpretations are thrown away. In fact, it makes everything in the first half seem like painfully constructed coincidence, robbing it of its subtextual power. The light humour and quiet character moments are lost, and characters lose their original traits to fit into this unwanted twist. The world feels smaller.

The villains, never really explained or expanded on, are given a quick backstory and even quicker sendoffs. It builds to a climax with the Moon King, who doesn’t even show up onscreen until the last twenty minutes. The fight between him (in giant monster fish form) and Kubo is breathtakingly animated but humdrum in concept. Worse, it goes against Kubo’s character. He repeatedly states his desire to avoid violence, and while his anger is justified at the time, there’s no real sense that he’s betraying his morals when he turns to it. Now, the end of the film is something I’m really divided on. I’ve being saying for awhile now that slaughtering villains and calling it a day is a lazy and dangerous way to wrap up narratives. It tells children and adults that problems are a single person’s fault, and the clearest solution is to violently remove that person. It leaves no room for recognizing fault in yourself, in systems, or society. It also leaves no room for reconciliation, forgiveness, and change. Here, Kubo makes a bold step and does something unexpected and beautiful. It brought tears to my eyes. I went from apathy to sobbing in the course of moments. However, this outcome really did come out of nowhere. Kubo had no way of knowing events would end in this way, and the universal positivity of the villagers is hard to buy. In fact, it seems one coincidence too many at this point.

Then again, I find myself thinking of a very specific story I like. The fairy tale, AKA the legend, the folktale, the oral history. Kubo is about fairy tales. Kubo tells them in the village, and characters are introduced and summarized via names like ‘Moon King’. In fact, the whole film begins with Kubo using a line he begins all his fables with. Should his film, and all its odd structure and unbelievable serendipity, be taken as following the structure of fairy tale? Is its simplicity deceptive, as most myths are? Perhaps scholars will find deep meanings and write intricate papers on Kubo in a few hundred years. Whole textbooks of psychological complexes and solar systems may end up being named after its iconic characters.

I’m a little at a loss with this one. I feel it may be several rewatches and years before my opinion on it ever solidifies. Suffice it to say that there's so much originality and passion in this film that it makes me feel it worthwhile to do that. Despite my objections, I firmly believe this will end up being a classic. I also fully expect to see some good Halloween costumes come out of it. Anyone want to be my second Moon Sister?

I really love this image. It’s wonderful artistically, but the break between panels that separates Kubo from his parents is a nice subconscious way to reinforce his loss.

*Note of Bias

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• I love LAIKA, I love Japanese culture. Really this is something I was so excited about for months, you have no idea. I’ve been following this since The Boxtrolls came out.