The great threat at the center of Andô Masashi and Miyaji Masayuki’s The Deer King is a deadly disease carried by ethereal wild dogs. When it last surfaced, the kingdom of Zol halted its invasion of the neighboring Aquafa for fear of further outbreak. The disease took on a supernatural connotation as a righteous curse against invaders, not only for its convenient timing but for its inexplicable choosiness. Only Zol citizens caught it, and grotesquely so, while the Aquafa people were mysteriously immune to it.
The Deer King opens years after those events, with Aquafa having long surrendered and the black wolf fever resurfacing to ravage a Zol salt mine where Van (Tsutsumi Shin’ichi), the Aquafaese leader of the Lone Antlers, is imprisoned. The only survivors of the attack are Van and Yuna (Kimura Hisui), the little orphan girl whom he adopts as his daughter, and in what amounts to a boilerplate plot template, the pair soon find themselves targeted by shadowy political figures who fear their survival could reveal the secrets of the disease.
Adapted from novels by Uehashi Nahoko, the film initially runs at a rather leisurely pace, depicting involved processes like treating the wounded or soaking a rope in plant residue for corralling deer-like creatures so that they may be bred and sold. This attention to detail, as well as its fondness for breaking up subdued moments with truly ostentatious drama, sets The Deer King from the pack. The resurgence of black wolf fever, for example, is heralded by a colossal torrent of purple miasma that floods the landscape while the wolves run within it.
Other imagery is similarly wild: laser-red strings that connect the wolves as one consciousness, metaphysical renderings of nature and life around Van, a bearded man with a tree that’s grown around him, and deer-riding warriors that make comparisons to Princess Mononoke even more explicit. While there’s little surprise in learning that co-director Ando worked on that film, the complexities of The Deer King’s fantasy setting distinguish it from Miyazaki Hayao’s classic. The story emphasizes the clash of Zol and Aquafa cultures, with each kingdom having distinct customs for worship, dress, and sharing meals, while several characters and plot developments recall Uehashi’s earlier work, namely Moriboto, which was adapted by Production I.G. as the 2007 TV series Moribito: Guardian of the Spirit.
But it’s also tough to shake the feeling that, even at its most relaxed, The Deer King doesn’t take enough time to flesh out its world. Before the black wolf fever ravages the salt mine, clunky explanatory text sets up the film’s political backdrop. Various subplots coalesce a little too neatly, with certain characters like the court doctor, Hohsalle (Takeuchi Ryôma), and a tracker named Sae (Watanabe An) almost immediately falling into line with Van as traveling companions. And while Hohsalle’s argument that there’s a scientific explanation for the disease is eventually validated, the portrayal of the disease is plainly supernatural.
Elsewhere, the film never compellingly situates the story within the broader scope of history or captures the march of culture. Past atrocities are barely explained while the ways that Aquafa customs have changed since Zol’s incursion are depicted in hasty, unclear fashion. At best, the film flattens its backroom politicking into what is more or less a team wearing red against a team wearing blue, and at worst, it takes a rather complacent stance toward imperialism. Frequently beautiful and ambitious though it may be, The Deer King leaves one with the impression that it hasn’t given itself room to truly soar.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.
