Hayao Miyazaki’s decision to conclude his initial career run with The Wind Rises marked a radical departure from the magical realism of Spirited Away or Howl’s Moving Castle. Instead of soaring on the backs of dragons, Miyazaki grounded his narrative in the historical reality of Jiro Horikoshi, the man who designed the Mitsubishi A6M Zero fighter plane.
The film serves as a fictionalized biopic, blending Jiro’s professional life with elements from Tatsuo Hori’s 1937 novel, also titled The Wind Rises. By pivoting to a true story, Miyazaki was able to address the complex intersection of artistic beauty and the destructive nature of war.
Jiro’s singular obsession with flight is presented as a beautiful dream, even though that dream ultimately led to devastation during World War II.
The Shift from Whimsy to Historical Weight
Miyazaki’s abandonment of traditional fantasy allowed him to confront the actual landscape of early 20th-century Japan. The film meticulously recreates the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923, an event that serves as a visceral reminder of the fragility of human life. By removing the safety net of magic, Miyazaki forces the audience to engage with the grit of poverty, the tuberculosis epidemic, and the looming shadow of fascism.
This realism served as a necessary vehicle for Miyazaki’s personal reflections on his family history. Miyazaki’s father was the director of Miyazaki Airplane, which manufactured parts for the very planes Jiro designed. By telling Jiro’s story, the director was essentially exploring the moral gray areas of his own lineage, loving the craft of aviation while grappling with the reality of what those machines did to the world.
Furthermore, the lack of a traditional villain, common in many of Miyazaki’s later works, becomes even more pronounced here. The enemy isn’t a sorceress or a monster, but the relentless march of time and the inevitable corruption of purity. Jiro isn’t seeking to save the world; he is seeking to build something perfect in a world that is fundamentally broken.
Technical Mastery and the Art of the Dream
Even without supernatural elements, the film utilizes dream sequences to connect Jiro with his idol, the Italian aircraft designer Giovanni Battista Caproni. These sequences act as the film’s only fantasy elements, serving as a psychological bridge between two men separated by geography but united by vision. Caproni acts as a mentor, reminding Jiro that airplanes are beautiful dreams, and that a creator’s ten years of peak productivity must be used wisely.
The romance between Jiro and Naoko Satomi provides the film’s emotional core, highlighting the personal sacrifices made in the shadow of historical tragedy. Naoko, suffering from tuberculosis, chooses to spend her final days supporting Jiro’s work, emphasizing the bittersweet nature of his success. Their relationship is portrayed with quiet, devastating realism that fantasy tropes would likely have obscured.
In the final act, the imagery of the graveyard of planes brings the narrative to a somber conclusion. Jiro achieves his dream of creating a masterpiece, but he is left standing in the ruins of the empire that demanded it. By choosing the true story of Jiro Horikoshi, Miyazaki delivered a more mature, contemplative final statement on the burden of the artist than any fairy tale could have provided.
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