Movie Review: Kubo and the Two Strings
There is nothing quite like a cozy animated film during a bleak Korean winter day, I often tell myself. Due to the length of the seemingly never-ending grey winters here, what I mean by “often” is, actually, “almost every day”. As a result, I watch a lot of animated films. One of the most classic and coziest films, for me, is the Pixar original, Toy Story. I gave it another spin recently, and for the first time, something really struck me about it—the animation is noticeably clunky. The story still carries the same punch it once did (and always will), but the animation has been obviously outclassed as computerized animation became the next big thing.
To be fair, the animation style in Toy Story was something different and exciting at the time. Unfortunately, it went over so well that nearly every large western animated release of the past decade has been done in very much the same style. I would say that Hollywood has slowed down in its innovation on animated movies. How many sequels can Pixar push? How many DreamWorks films can they release in a row with characters sporting the exact same smirking expression on the cover? The major studios are of course, businesses—and that means they need to release whatever is safest and makes money. It is sensible, but it is boring. Because of this, I was quite excited to hear about the release of Kubo and the Two Strings: the sixth animated feature to come from studio Laika, (Coraline, The Corpse Bride).
The film tells the story of a young boy in a fictionalized feudal Japan who goes to town daily to weave stories with the help of his magic Koto, which seems to be similar to a Korean gayageum combined with a banjo. Without giving too much away: a bad thing happens and Kubo has to go on a journey to face his destiny.
The story itself is a bit predictable, (it is a kids movie) which to be honest was a bit of a turn off. Corny jokes, monologues about love, and over the top exasperation often pulled me out of the narrative. The film has a serious vibe with some sobering themes presented through the lens of Japanese mythology, so the typical Hollywood gags felt out of place to me.
What really sets this movie apart is the animation. Created painstakingly by animatronics and green-screen, and rounded out in the background by vivid CGI, Kubo’s every frame is a work of art. As the credits roll, the creators give a glimpse into how the film was made: All of the main characters are physical robots being moved frame-by-frame as if they were characters in claymation. Green-screen sheets hang around the -often quite large- robot models. The juxtaposition of the real-life characters and the settings behind them is so fluid and natural-looking that one might never know if they had not seen the behind-the-scenes credit roll exposé.
I realize that watching a movie because of its technical feats seems like it detracts from a more casual reason for watching a movie, especially a kid’s flick: entertainment. However, I would say that this movie is important because it continues to push the boundaries of what animated films are willing to do to bring their stories to life. As consumers, we should value and support these sorts of innovations so that we do not always have to be content with the same old sequels; the same boring template as always.
On a lighter note, the music is captivating and meshes beautifully with the art style. During the end credits, a Regina Spektor cover of the Beatles “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” presents the classic tune with an infusion of Kubo’s instrument that really fits the mood of the film. Otherwise, the soundtrack masterfully combines the twang of Kubo’s instrument, and an orchestral background: a beautiful pairing of Eastern and Western sound for a powerful, and emotional, visual and auditory experience.