Kubo and the Two Strings. I have a few words. It is a story that makes you cry from the inside. What it never tells is what moves you. I didn’t watch it in 3D or 2D or IMAX or with any cinematic paraphernalia. The experience was raw, down-to-earth, as the film itself manifests, it brought me closer to home.
But beyond the symbolism, the mythology, the haiku, the origami, the shamisen, the kabuki, the Edo period, cultural sensibilities, and all, Kubo and the Two Strings spins strings of flashbacks that may bind us to long forgotten roots. As the shamisen pulls on the heartstrings, embedding a kind of unspeakable yearning for the departed, the plot went on reeling the thread of immortality as it did the mundane. Indeed, death benumbs itself.
I’ll leave this piece with my hat off to Laika because, since Coraline, it’s guaranteed that stop motion animation will never again lose its way inside our memories. So before you head to the theater, here’s a beautiful cover of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” for your listening pleasure.
Mini musing: Life is a matchstick. The end.