The House of the Lost On the Cape
Healing Past the Trauma
In the days of yore, a saying came to my mind “Wherever you go, there you are (credit goes to a mentor of mine back in college).” As a youngling I didn't quite get it. Years pass and the meaning becomes clearer - no matter where and how far you go, you still bring your hopes and fears, wants and needs, and - in this case - presence and trauma.
The House of the Lost on the Cape is a 2021 david production (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, Cells at Work) animated film based on Sachiko Kashiwaba’s novel, Misaki no Mayoiga. Production credits include Shinya Kawatsura (Non Non Biyori, Kokoro Connect) as director, Reiko Yoshida (Liz and the Bluebird, K-ON!) as a screenwriter, Kamogawa as character designer, and Yuri Miyauchi as a composer. This lineup, especially considering the director and screenwriter’s resume, means that this movie may make you cry.
In the aftermath of a destructive earthquake, Kiwa Yamana adopts two girls - Yui, a teenage runaway, and Hiyori, a mute orphan - as her granddaughters and takes residency at a cliffside house. As days go by, Yui and Hiyori come to encounter supernatural occurrences one being the house they live in called the “mayoiga,” a mystical and hospitable entity of Japanese folklore that provides food, shelter, and all other homely necessities to the community. Eventually, more mythical creatures come to visit the house thus prompting the question: who is this lady, and why are they adopted in the first place?
An important note is that The House of the Lost on the Cape is part of a promotional initiative called the Continuing Support Project 2011 + 10 (Zutto Ouen Project 2011 +10) commemorating the 10th anniversary of the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami; the Iwate prefecture, where the movie takes place, is heavily impacted. Opening the film is a walk through the rubble; buildings reduced down to their barest elements on the ground, a bridge still standing with rusted and bent railings, and out in the distance a calm sea; an ironic sight considering the tsunami. People of the town are getting by with relief and aid, yet are wracked with an impressionable loss in various shapes and forms, normally loss of immediate family members.
Steady and heavy is the best way to describe the atmosphere. In addition to the community’s loss, Hiyori and Yui have their own trauma. Hiyori anxiously runs out of the room hearing the traditional fox dance song, to avoid thinking about her parents’ funeral. Yui also does this when she sees her abusive father shopping at the local store she works at. No matter the distance they have trekked from, both still are haunted by painful memories. Screenwriter Reiko Yoshida, masterfully imbues emotional potency that captures traumatic apprehension with few words and haunting humanity. Where it becomes moving is when the trio are together sharing the joy, sorrow, hope, and fear of the past with a loving presence. A scene that emphasizes this is when Yui opens up to them about her experience with an abusive father. A lot of shame, guilt and anguish is expressed in this moment and is met with Kiwa gently reassuring her strength as a “sincere and tenacious” spirit, followed by Hiyori silently leaning onto Yui’s back. Then Yui cries. What a simple and powerful act of compassion and community; one that Yui and Hiyori so desperately need. This scene proves that director Shinya Kawatsura and screenwriter Reiko Yoshida are masters of capturing intimate moments.
Kiwa Yamana is an enigma. She is both a loving and empathetic grandmother who graciously helps those in need, especially to her granddaughters, and one of the few in the world to actively interact with the supernatural. Her presence serves as the connective tissue to the film’s heart and soul - building a sense of belonging amongst those she encounters while protecting the hope inside everyone with the gentlest touch and sensitive voice.
This film makes mystery and community prevalent and inseparable. There is a sense of fellowship and synergy in the local and mystical. Mankind continues to pick up the pieces and live normal lives - jobs, school, community gatherings. Then there are the “enigmas” - mystical spirits of Japanese folklore that - in this movie - support humanity. These beings are invisible to the world at large and are omniscient to the plights of humanity. And it is through the care and respect of the human community - both by the trio and the town - that life can be sustained. Look no further than the mayoiga itself, centuries of providing food and shelter for the community. And the mayoiga continues to improve when people take care of it - cutting the grass, cleaning the floors, and hosting dinners. This further enhances the movie’s push for the community as an essential piece for resilience in tragedy.
Composer Yuri Miyauchi laid a fine and memorable soundtrack that not only complements the aforementioned steady and heavy atmosphere, but it also accentuates. There is a tenderness to his composition that breathes levity and yearns for innocence for the hurt Yui, Hiyori, and the rest of the town have to endure. It sounds like a heart processing pain while simultaneously playing around. For those who enjoy the subdued tones of Kensuke Ushio’s A Silent Voice and Yoshiaki Dewa’s soothing acoustic musings on Flying Witch, Miyauchi’s contributions are within that vein.
Now as mentioned extensively, this is a slice-of-life picture with an emphasis on healing, so it may potentially be slow for others. It is a movie that is unashamed to address suffering and has sparse moments to take it all in, for some it may be needed, and for others, it can be a drag tone-wise. Along with that comes the jarring climax. Thematically it is sound, the execution, though, is lackluster. Without giving too much, it becomes an action movie for a few minutes the buildup felt rushed ergo the payoff suffers. A part of me wanted more time, development, and genuine struggle from these characters - ironically these people have suffered enough, though some more scenes of the village, the enigmas, and even Hiyori and Yui reacting to the situation would have made the climax more engaging.
A well-intentioned project such as this provides an approachable awareness for the viewer - the scale of the destruction, the mental toll people have to carry, and the hope for humanity to thrive. Disaster may lay waste, yet succumbing to our fear leads to the “real ruin.” When everyone leaves believing the lies of potential futility that is the true disaster. As the saying goes “wherever you go there you are,” and yet the film provides an optimistic extension. The House of the Lost on the Cape demonstrates the importance of a committed and compassionate community in its capacity to hold the collective trauma everyone uniquely undergoes and resilience to overcome such catastrophe. Although one cannot erase the pain from the past, the present love and hospitality can provide a hopeful future. For that, I believe it succeeds.
Many thanks to Deborah Gilels of LA Media Consultants and Eleven Arts for the screener opportunity.