To celebrate the release of Studio Ghibli’s latest film, Arrietty, in UK cinemas we’re taking a look back at some of the studio’s classic with a Video Vault series.
Patrick Gamble takes a look back at the 1988 war film written and directed by Isao Takahata, Grave of the Fireflies. Check back over the next week for more in this series.
Grave of the Fireflies appears as somewhat of an anomaly when rummaging through the Ghibli back catalogue. Whilst the franchise’s other serious features such as Princess Mononoke and Nausicca have tackled adult themes, they have done so through subtle symbolism, softened against a fantasy backdrop. Grave of the Fireflies, however, is so emotionally charged that its raw and unflinching approach in its portrayal of warfare demands it be taken seriously.
Re-visiting this beguiling tragedy for the Video Vault has brought back memories of just how heart-breaking this poignant tale of two siblings fighting against severe adversity is a gentle reminder of exactly the reasons it’s remained unwatched for so many years.
A huge success in Japan when originally released, Grave of the Fireflies was originally planned as a double bill with My Neighbour Totoro outside of Japan. Isao Takahata’s adaptation of Akiyuki Nosaka’s novel was deemed to be a more conventional and educational film which, would help Totoro’s unusual style resonate with a western audience. In hindsight it seems like a bizarre coupling, with each sharing little in common with the other, both in narrative and atmosphere. Whilst Totoro is the studio’s embodiment of childhood wonder, Grave of the Fireflies is an unrelentingly upsetting portrayal of wartime misery and loss – certainly not perfect bedfellows.
The film opens in a Japanese train station, full of aggravated business men rushing towards their destination. Sat resting against one of the stations stone pillars is Seita, a skin and bones wreck of a boy who seems only moments away from death. There are many others like him, with commuters having to weave in-between these seemingly decaying young men. It becomes apparent from the outset that Seita’s situation is not a unique one and whilst his experiences may represent one childhood viewpoint of the horrors of war, his story is just one of many.
He soon dies and we are transported to the stories origins. However, the red tinge of the screen which occurs at this moment, and the way the frame floats upwards would imply that in fact we are not going back through time but instead taking a more linear, chronological journey, reliving the events which pass through Seita’s spirit as he departs this world.
The world we’re presented with once we join Seita and his sister Sadako may look like a dystopian future but in fact is the once beautiful Japanese landscape of Kobe, ravaged by war and destruction. As Napalm bombs fall from the sky like fireflies fluttering in the night sky our two young protagonists soon find themselves alone and uncared for in this now unrecognisable world. Their mother has just fallen to the most recent aerial assault and their father is away with the navy. Calm long shots allow us to wallowing in the pairs grief whilst at the same time allowing the desolately bleak surroundings to express the tragedy which surround them.
These now orphaned siblings leave Kobe to live with their aunt, and whilst the central enemy remains the attacking American forces, their new host represents a whole new evil. Perfectly displaying all the negative traits which accompany such devastating times, their Aunt is divisive in portraying how war can drive families apart. Their stay with this overly controlling matriarch doesn’t last long and the two soon find their fending for themselves again.
Whilst their new makeshift home in a bomb shelter leads to some heart warming scenes of childhood innocence, things soon start to turn ugly when Setsuko’s initially minor seeming illness begins to escalate and Seita realises he’s in well over his head. Yet, instead of swallowing his pride and returning to his aunts Seita begins to forage for food for his malnourished sister. However, as her health deteriorates Seita’s morals slide and he finds himself stealing from farmers and scavenging homes during air raids. Her death is a certainty but doesn’t prevent it from becoming perhaps one of the most heart breaking moments of cinema ever etched onto the screen.
It is this unrelentingly compassionate relationship between the film’s two leads that undoubtedly carries the film. Its emotionally involving story conveys a deeply naturalistic partnership that becomes impossible to not be drawn towards. From the beautiful scenes in the bomb shelter when the pair use fireflies to light up their otherwise depressingly dark surroundings, to the heart breaking moment Setsuko buries the dead insects in a mass grave that evokes a deeply upsetting memory for Seita of the similar disposal of his mother’s body. There’s something incredibly celestial and mystical about these scenes, which culminate in the film’s closing montage of Setsuko playing around the bomb shelter. This touching epitaph allows the audience a much needed moment to grieve for these characters that they’ve grown so personally attached to.
Grave of the Fireflies is perhaps the most human cartoon you’ll ever see. This devastating depiction of war through a child’s eyes is as powerful as any anti-war film and forced many into rethinking how they approached animation. Indeed, Grave of the Fireflies is not just an animated war film that would be a disservice to its powerful message, it is in fact a war film, that just so happens to be animated. Grave of the Fireflies manages to capture the pure innocence of childhood wonder whilst simultaneously overwhelming us with deeply moving and involving adult themes.
Perhaps not the epitome of what a Ghibli film is typically purported to be, Grave of the Fireflies manages to transcend the studio’s already excellent benchmark of filmmaking and singlehandedly showed how important a medium animation can be for storytelling. If this film doesn’t move you to tears then perhaps it’s time to reassess your ability to feel compassion because as animation goes Grave of the Fireflies has the emotional force of a thousand Bambi’s.
