The House of the Lost on the Cape review

Entertainment tends to turn tragedy into spectacle. Habitually, the focus is on delivering vivid depictions of the catastrophic rather than exploring the inner turbulence faced by those affected. Fortunately, that’s not the case with The House of the Lost on the Cape (Misaki no Mayoiga in Japanese) which treats the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami with dignity. Given the severity of the disaster, which caused nearly 20,000 deaths and left 340,00 displaced across the region, a film that spent the bulk of its running time depicting the devastation would likely be in poor taste.

Instead, Shinya Kawatsura’s film is set in the earthquake’s aftermath. Life in Kitsunezaki, a small town in the Oshika peninsula show signs of restoration. Here, the local citizens assemble at an auditorium.  Distributing food provisions, there’s a sense of muted optimism, as a community huddles together.

We witness life through the eyes of seventeen-year-old Yui and eight-year-old Hiyori. Both are traumatized from events that proceeded the disaster. The pair form a sisterly bond, that is undoubtedly built from the recognition of emotional distress in the other. Wandering alone after the earthquake, they’re taken in by a kindly elder named Kiwa, who tells inquisitive community members that the duo are her grandchildren.

But the offer of kindness is met with suspicion by Yui, and flashbacks show where her doubts originate from. But gradually, the trio forms a surrogate family, and Lost on the Cape’s message becomes clear. In times of need, we need to assist each other, the story’s original novelist, Sachiko Kashiwaba reminds us. Sure, that’s a routine way of thinking for any collectivist culture, but given Japan’s history of communal perseverance, Lost on the Cape’s reflection is especially resonant and gently motivational.

But that’s hardly the only insight the film offers. The trio stay in a mayoiga, which in folklore refers to a vacant, but well-kept house in a remote area. While The Lost Village (aka Mayoiga ~Tsumi to Batsu~) used the idea for supernatural horror, Lost on the Cape imagines the house as a place for restorative healing. The home begins to provide its occupants with their basic needs, extending everything from basic shelter, a warm bath, and even food.

Kiwa-san explains the connection with the dwelling is reciprocal. If the girls treat the home with respect and speak well of it, it will care for its occupants. Of course, this idea isn’t uniquely Japanese. Hawaii’s “Aloha ʻĀina”, envisions a close relationship between nature and its people, while many Native (American) peoples view the land as sentient. One of the film’s few missteps is not revealing enough of the houses’ interiors. After all, this is the fourth member of this makeshift family.

The House of the Lost on the Cape’s first act runs at an unhurried slice-of-life pace. But soon, antagonism manifests itself in physical form, born from the sorrows and distress of Kitsunezaki’s populace. Here, the film might remind us of the metaphysical sense of wonder explored in Spirited Away or even Natsume’s House of Friends, as a host of yokai joins the cast.

As the third theatrical film created by David Production (Hyperdimension Neptunia: The Animation, Cells at Work!!), Lost on the Cape sporadically demonstrates accomplishment.  Computer-generated, drone-like shots of the house bookend the film. The fluidity of CG scenes often creates a sense of visual dissonance when edited alongside traditional hand-drawn animation. But these sequences skillfully mesh with the rest of the film, offering a change of pace from the film’s expressive close-up shots. While most of the film’s visual style favors realism, sporadically director Shinya Kawatsura opts for a more stylized approach to underscore the film’s folktales.

Some might have made the Tōhoku earthquake the star of the film, attempting to recapture the devastation of the event. But Kawatsura’s interest is in the resilience of the human spirit, the yearning for human connection, and a respect for the spaces we call home. For some, The House of the Lost on the Cape might be slow-moving and too concerned with internal thoughts. But as the film’s concluding scenes celebrate the strength of the human spirit, it’s evident that this is the kind of film that offers the kind of healing we all need.

The House of the Lost on the Cape is available
on Blu-ray/DVD on September 27th, 2022.