The Deer King

An orphan. A widower. A doctor. The trio are the unlikely savers of the world in The Deer King, a powerful and moving anime adaptation of Nahoko Uehashi's stirring epic fantasy novel.

What makes The Deer King stand out from the vast number of Japanese high fantasy stories is that, while they often depend on grand action and hyperbolic denouements, the story of fallen warrior Van (voiced in the original language by Shinichi Tsutsumi and Ray Chase in the English dub) has a profoundly pacifist streak. It’s no surprise: the last of the Lone Antler tribe, whose failed defense of the land of Aquafa led to its subservience to the empire of Zol. Now he’s merely a prisoner in the salt mines, while above him the world has turned, and an uneasy peace has become simply peace. Occupation has become friendship, even if old, cruel powers want to stir up enmity and bloodshed. Maybe that’s why a pack of wild wolves, the ones that a decade ago spread the deadly mittsual plague, have returned. Some see it as a curse against the invaders, but that’s no explanation for Hohsalle (Ryoma Takeuchi/Griffin Puatu), a sacred doctor in the royal court of Zol who believes that there must be a medical explanation for how Van, and the little orphan girl, Yuna (Hisui Kimura/Luciana VanDette), not only survived the cursed bite but somehow have become connected to something bigger.

In this late medieval fantasy realm, there are so many of the hallmarks of the genre that it would be easy to expect yet another bland adventure, riddled with predictable twists, alliances, and resolutions. But Uehashi and scriptwriter Taku Kishimoto (Fruits Basket: Prelude) are in search of something deeper and more profound, a story that will always aim for the gentler path even as warlords and machinating politicians try to foment war, division, and violence. The past cannot be undone, The Deer King says, and even if it could then the first change would be to bring back Van’s wife and daughter - but that’s not happening. Instead, it’s in the healing power of the rough and taciturn warrior’s new found adoptive parenthood, and in the overwhelming compassion of Hosshale's quest for a cure, and in the blended families that take in Van and Yuna, looking beyond nationality to see them as people.

Visually stunning (as can now be expected from esteemed studio Production I.G.), what truly distinguishes The Deer King is in the narrative, and how it is laid out by the co-directors, Miyaji (Fusé: Memoirs of a Huntress) and directorial first timer Ando. Twenty-five years after his work as a supervising editor on Princess Mononoke, Ando has crafted an ecosystem that feels just as complete, but with particular reference to political depths. There's a delicacy as it hops between the motivations and storylines of the characters, in how it creates a world in which mysticism and science can coexists but still both be at odds with superstition. Some of these moments are minuscule, like flittering dream memories of his family that often wake Van, or the tragic story of two lovers - one Aquafesean, one Zolian - silently told as an aside. Others are grand, sweeping across the land like the bubbling mittsual miasma that roars through the forest. Yet the all feel very much vital to the story and to the world of the Deer King (a name that only gains meaning in the films very last moments - and definitely stick around through the credits for a vital and emotionally-loaded coda). As the waves of the Covid pandemic still sweep across the world, there's something very timely about the idea that the weak and malevolent can weaponize the fear of a disease in order to bend the world to their will. Equally, there's something heartening about its message that thoughtful kindness may just save us all.