Kubo and the Two Strings

The film production company Laika specializes in stop-motion animation, an art form so time-consuming and onerous that almost no one uses it any more. It involves puppets and marionettes that you photograph one frame at a time. Move the puppet’s mouth a little, take a picture, Move it a little more, take another picture. You can see why animators prefer being able to use powerful computer programs to create characters and sets with pixels rather than painstakingly constructing and moving every single element by hand. But as I said, Laika is a boutique company that specializes in stop motion and has produced the films Coraline, Paranorman, and The Boxtrolls. Each one has been exquisitely rendered with ingenious production and character design. The amount of time and care put into the films is apparent in every frame. However, none of them felt like the stories they were telling were worth all that effort. They weren’t bad, by any means, they just seemed like small, interesting experiments rather than films with a capitol F. 

 

With its new release, Kubo and the Two Strings, Laika has finally found a project worthy of its craftsmanship. It’s an original story that has all the resonance and spaciousness of an ancient folktale. But it’s never too epic for its own good. On the contrary, Kubo manages to be funny, sweet, and often touching. Not bad for a movie made with what amounts to a bunch of plastic toys.

The film is a quest story. Kubo is a young boy who, as a baby, had his left eye plucked out by the cold and powerful Moon King. The Moon King also happens to be Kubo’s grandfather, so you can imagine the whole eye-plucking thing might make family reunions awkward. So his grandfather is back and wants the other eye, and Kubo goes on a quest to find pieces of enchanted armor that will protect him.

He is assisted by a guardian monkey, a tiny origami samurai, and a warrior who was cursed and transformed into a man-sized bug who they call Beetle. It sounds bizarre, I know, but underneath all the strangeness is a moving story about familial love, the power of remembrance, and the magic of storytelling. In fact, before he begins his quest, Kubo himself is a storyteller who makes his money by narrating tales in the streets while playing his enchanted shamisen, the traditional Japanese three stringed instrument. When he plays, sheets of paper come blasting out of his pack and form themselves into ingenious origami creations that act out his stories. I can help but think the people at Laika saw this as a metaphor for what they do, bringing inanimate objects to life to tell a story. 

 

As a straightforward piece of art and entertainment, I recommend Kubo and the Two Strings unreservedly. But at the same time, nothing exists in a vacuum and the issue of Hollywood whitewashing is a problem here. The story takes place in Japan and is peopled entirely by Japanese characters. However, the three leads and one of the villains are voiced by Charlize Theron, Matthew McConaghey, Rooney Mara, and an Irish kid named Art Parkinson. That cast couldn’t be whiter if you dipped them in a tub of bleach. Do they do a fantastic job? Absolutely. Theron especially has a voice that conveys an armored, barbed strength while also projecting profound tenderness. But the fact remains that Hollywood has a painfully long history of shutting out Asian performers in favor of supposedly more marketable white actors in make-up. Kubo and the Two Strings is a great movie without question. But the politics and history surrounding some of its casting raise a lot of questions.