Hotaru no Haka

"21st September, 1945… That was the night I died." Grave of the Fireflies begins as a young man stands in uniform unfazed, looking back on the moment he died. Slouched against a pole in tattered clothes, starving in silence while dozens of people pass by. One person in an act of pity places food beside him, but it’s too late. Lacking the will to even eat, his frail body collapses among other starved corpses nearby. An empty tin can found on his person is tossed by a field outside as if it were trash. Yet from the second it lands, fireflies materialize from the ground andcast a blazing glow that brightens the field. A young girl rises to her feet, confused at the sight of her brother lying prone on the floor. She’s startled, until suddenly a hand rests on her shoulder. Standing beside her, he greets his sister with a smile before handing her a tin can now full of treats, and together they walk aboard an empty train. Free from hunger and pain as they saunter off to the next life. 'The fireflies rose, burned ever so brightly, before slowly returning to darkness.' This scene sets the soul-crushing tone for what to expect over the course of the film. Grim and unflinching in its portrayal of the privations of war and their effect on the most innocent of victims: children. Grave of the Fireflies follows the struggles that siblings Seita and Setsuko face through this hellish time as their former livelihoods are wiped out in an air raid. As a result, both are forced to endure and continue living in a nation crumbling from warfare and famine. Their journey is intertwined with the lives of many different people, all directly impacted by the war and all trying to cope with the struggle. A welcoming aunt at first turns resentful guardian. A farmer who shows compassion to the two but can only feed himself. A doctor concerned with diagnosing problems, yet never tries to cure them. There are no heroes present here, just a story about survival. Except here the outcome was given from the start – they don’t. From the minute the firebombing starts, viewers already have a clear enough sense of how this story plays out. With their home left in ruins and ripped away from their mother, what’s left is a tale of two kids still clinging onto one another alone in an uncharitable world, fending for themselves as best they can. But without a hopeful ending, it’s more akin to watching a slow death play out than otherwise. Director Isao Takahata makes these opening scenes count. In such a short span of time, he places the audience in a position where emotional attachment with the main characters feel genuinely crafted. We’re instantly drawn to Setsuko’s abundant wonder and childlike innocence, and likewise support Seita as he must transform into the parental figure his sister will need. We realise how food scarcity and a general lack of resources impacts them both above all others. And naturally, we can only feel sorry for the two. Their circumstance and untimely demise lie out of their control as both are reduced to mere numbers tallied to the body count their country holds. For a film that illustrates a tragedy not suitable for most children, Grave of the Fireflies’ greatest strength lies in the fact that it exists as an animated feature. There are several instances where gratuitous images are lingered on, never shying away from the bleakness of these scenes. So brutal, that had the film been made as a live-action, could easily have crossed the line from harrowing to simply unbearable for most. In this, Grave of the Fireflies showcases the power of animation, where the most grotesque scenes are offset with accompanied visuals that are beautiful, evocative and aesthetically pleasing. Graphic displays of burned bodies and malnourished children never come off sadistic, but certainly leave their mark on the viewer. It’s a movie that whilst easily stands out from the typical Ghibli picture, arguably could not have been produced by any other studio. Breath-taking landscapes, delightful character designs and a keen attention to detail are lucid across its runtime, constantly emphasizing the smaller moments just as much as the larger ones. It takes a special group on staff to pour so much effort into each scene, having managed to hold up over 30 years since its release. They did a remarkable job, especially when realizing this was being produced alongside Ghibli’s other feature film at the time, My Neighbor Totoro. Both impressive in their production, but ironically have conflicting views on innocence; where Totoro celebrates the blossoming times of childhood, here those wonders are short-lived; slowly crushed under the weight our leads are burdened with. A brief overview of the synopsis would give the impression that Grave of the Fireflies is first and foremost an anti-war film, depicting the harsh nature and consequences of conflict for the audience to bear witness to. Takahata actively denied this notion, saying he intended the film as a glimpse into lives affected from society failing to protect its own people. Originally published in 1967 as a semi-autobiographical work, author Akiyuki Nosaka wrote Grave of the Fireflies as an apology. Having lived in Japan during World War II, he lost his home and father to the firebombing of Kobe, losing his sister Keiko to starvation soon afterward. The guilt and remorse Nosaka felt compelled him to write this story as a double-suicide, using Seita’s death as a way of atonement for his actions. Understanding the source material better puts the film’s overall message into context. Despite key events clearly coinciding with WWII, the film never places blame to either side of the war, nor is the enemy ever recognized as American. War is not the focus, only the backdrop here; simply serving the characters a situation to create conflict. Instead the story is concerned exploring the war at hand on a more personal level, and as a result uncovers pride as a reoccurring pattern within the plot. Pride fuels the war that took away their mother, drives the children to live on their own away from their unpleasant guardian, steers Setsuko to a premature death before leaving Seita to his own downfall, suffering alone on the brink of death. The film pays close attention to these moments, viewing them from the perspective of Seita’s ghost. It detaches viewers from the story momentarily, so that we may capture a glimpse of how he reflects on those actions. Sometimes even recoiling in fear, knowing the consequences about to unfold from his doing. In this, Grave of the Fireflies laments how someone’s pride can lead to the destruction of others and themselves. The film strives to tug at each of our heartstrings, numerous times for what both children must go through, while also lending some commentary on Japan’s fervent sense of nationalism during those times; critical of one’s pride and dignity to dangerous extents. Crafted by a master hand, it’s a movie that knows what it wishes to be and sets out to achieve that. However, in reality this does not always come true. It’s obvious to see why fans enjoy Grave of the Fireflies to the extent they do: it succeeded in eliciting strong emotions that few others probably ever had. But to talk about a film aspiring for such a personal experience, I feel the need to explain mine. - - - - - - - Grave of the Fireflies was a sad, depressing film, even on the sheer surface. Witnessing the two leads placed in a terrible predicament alone put me in a sad, state of mind. The pair are extremely easy to feel sorry for, especially knowing how their story ends from the start. I cried. Tears welled up watching the final sequence, Setsuko and her belongings being cremated out in the open. Feeling the pain her brother must’ve gone through. Those feelings were real and knowing that events like this happen in the world today didn’t help me. It was the first time I could remember crying from a movie, leaving me devastated as the credits rolled. The fireflies had risen, burned the brightest they possibly could have, before returning to darkness, leaving me there as well. That was the first time I watched Grave of the Fireflies. The second time I watched Grave of the Fireflies, it had once again surprised me, but for reasons that were perplexing. It was still very sad and depressing, but ultimately left me feeling unsatisfied with the experience. Nothing in the film had changed, in fact I still remembered most of the key events that happened along with when they would take place. However this time the film lacked my investment and the sentiments I once had for each of those moments was no longer there. Rewatching the film even years later highlighted certain aspects that I had initially glossed over, not having already been acquainted with the story and characters. The hand that once tugged my heartstring no longer caught me by surprise, and the beats this film played to was a tune I had become familiar with. This was Grave of the Fireflies’ biggest weakness. For a film that enlightens more on a second viewing, loses what made it so special in the first place. Looking at the film with a critical eye will surely find themes of morality at play but will also find them presented in ways visibly forced and heavy-handed. In a world where two children are just trying to survive in a country torn by war, there are so many instances shown in the film that could have saved both from their terrible ends. But the story will always take the worst option every single time to reach its miserable end, to the point where it’s no longer natural watching this play out. The film continuously tries to milk tears from the audience with a tragedy that constantly makes the worst decisions for its characters. It’s akin to piling tragic event on top of tragic event until we’re left with a mountain of depression, while my reaction moves from genuine sympathy to frustration and disappointment. We as viewers look at this film from the same perspective as Seita’s ghost, and while this does emphasize the meaning behind these moments, it essentially removes part of the deep emotion gained from the experience, causing the repetitive nature of these events to feel counterproductive. We see the storyline in full, from establishing its grieving tone to forcing Seita and Setsuko into the film’s personal martyrs. Their deaths, for our pity. Regardless of how closely the narrative revolves around these two characters, neither of the pair hold much intrigue outside of being victims. Child characters don’t need a tale of heroism for audiences to get invested in them, but the only attributes Seita and Setsuko have to garner one’s investment is that they’re children who exist as casualties. Seita does possess a few qualities worth mentioning; he holds a strong impression of idealism for his father and while he’s away fighting in the war, Seita bears the responsibility for caring over his younger sister. Except that arduous task is put on a brother that appears as immature as his younger sibling. To Seita, taking care of Setsuko means to play with her all the time and keep her happy, no matter how cruel the world around her can be. His actions are foolish and the film does punish him over them, however I still find his mindset somewhat contrived given the circumstances. Despite how much Seita wants to take care of her sister, he refuses to find work and has no interest helping anyone besides himself and Setsuko. He is stubborn to the bone: even when their health deteriorates and is told to swallow his pride, he refuses to help himself or her sister in a meaningful way. The main reason why most fans overlook this is because of how both feel like authentic children, unaware of the dangers in the world. The animation also helps with this, capturing the nuances and mannerisms one would expect from children. But remember that Seita is supposed to be a 14-year-old boy in the 1940’s, a time where he would be considered an adult capable of working for a living. He’s relatable to us because of how we would view someone of that age but comes across incompetent for someone from his time. These issues stuck out like a sore thumb on second viewing, partly due to how simplistic the film feels in its presentation. Grave of the Fireflies is often seen as the Ghibli feature to break away from the conventional family-friendly films the studio has produced, and while it does deliver on an unflinching war film not suitable for all ages, it also just so happens to lack the whimsical spirit that gave those other films such striking personality. Takahata has his strengths, from his interest in realistic imagery to his sense of social responsibility as a director, yet here his style feels neutered to a point where little personality can be found in the directing. He’s not Miyazaki, but the film appears contempt in what it wants to achieve, never aiming for more than the core emotional attachment felt though the script. Each scene is carefully calculated, but never ambitious in their purpose. Even the cheerful moments only balance out the hell Seita and Setsuko are in, never acting as driving components for either character. The music also does little to help the experience move along, rarely ever effective in smoothing out transitions or amplifying sentiment in an authentic way. It unironically makes the most emotional moments come off more canned than real. At the end of the day, the presentation may look very pretty, especially when it comes to the animation, but otherwise is rather insignificant when building on the emotional side of the film. I feel conflicted when trying to summarise my thoughts on Grave of the Fireflies. It has some very noticeable problems that I take issue with, but it’s far from a bad film in my eyes. On the contrary, I would call it a fairly good movie that I unfortunately feel numb towards now, no longer jaded by the emotional appeal that obfuscates the maladroit aspects of the movie. The fact that it tried so hard to appeal through emotions and failed only disappoints me that much more. It’s an odd contrast for me to ponder over: a film I loved at first no long holds any fondness from me. It tugged at my heartstrings, but no longer has any effect. My experience with Grave of the Fireflies at first was special; depressing yet executed with such elegance that made the journey worth the heartbreak. But that feeling could not be rekindled here. Part of me is sad coming to this conclusion, but there is a silver lining. Instead of searching for that exact feeling again, I’ve come to respect and appreciate what I got to experience the first time. I’m happy to have at least experienced this film once, than never at all. 'The fireflies rose, burned ever so brightly, before slowly returning to darkness.' Rest in Peace, Isao Takahata. (1935-2018)

I like the story. It’s an “us against the world” archetype. I felt like the children in the movie had no luck at all. They experienced everything victims of the war could’ve experience – losing their home, their relatives, and their will to live. You have to feel sorry for them. Although it’s not as good as I thought it would be (meaning I didn’t think it was that sad), it really touched me. While I was born WAY after WWII, I was able to witness how people lived in those days. Knowing the historical basis behind this movie is simply not enough, and I thinkthat’s one of the main reasons why this story was made. The movie was able to capture the essence of what was it like in those days, and that’s what makes the movie so touching and even relatable. One of the good points of this story is that you only get to focus on two fascinating characters, namely Seita and Setsuko. They clearly made this movie. You cheer them on, and you get frustrated because they keep losing and losing. I’m a bit iffy about Setsuko. She’s adorable, but she can be a bit of a brat. I do have to remind myself sometimes that she is a kid, probably not more than 5 years old. On the other hand, I find Seita a bit weird, since he’s not acting the way I want him to. Their mother just died, and he didn’t show that much emotion for it. I guess that’s just him trying to keep himself together and focus on what’s going on at the present. Also, he’s probably thinking that what’s done is done, and crying about it will not accomplish anything. If I look at him that way, he’s actually quite admirable. The closeness between Seita and Setsuko is something you don’t see in siblings too often these days, and it is a bit enviable. I got the chance to check both English and Japanese dubs, and picking the Japanese dub over the English was a good decision. The Japanese dub had more feeling, and the English dub felt somewhat robotic. The Japanese dub fit the characters much, much better. Animation-wise, I have to say I’m impressed. Considering the year the movie was made, you’d think the animation would be of low quality, compared to present anime. It’s actually beautifully made, with wonderful watercolor backgrounds and relatively detailed drawings. I can’t help but think that this movie might have been enhanced or something like that in all these years, but I still think it’s impressive nonetheless. The music is also beautiful. It can be a bit melancholic though, but it is a sad movie, so expecting a lot of upbeat songs in its soundtrack would be a bit weird. I noticed that most of the music was made by using woodwind instruments, but I’m not sure. I think I detect flute sounds or something like that. The music gave off a serene and peaceful mood. The good thing about it was that the creators didn’t hesitate to tell the truth. They didn’t want to show a repackaged, cleaner version of the truth – I felt like that’s how it really was back then. If it was otherwise, I don’t think Grave of the Fireflies would make such an impact to everyone who has watched it.

Looking at the poster of this film, a boy with an officer`s hat caring for his sister in the midst of an American bombing, I feared this would be a piece of Japanese conservatism meant to incite nationalistic indignation towards America, or perhaps the rest of the world, for committing such atrocities. I imagined the boy-scout equivalent kid symbolizing the innocence of Japan or some such nonsense. Thankfully, it doesn`t wave a finger of blame around. American bombs certainly sparked the series of events in this film, but it is just as much the aunt`s fault for speaking insensitively to the children. Equally at faultis Seita, the brother himself, for not being able to swallow his pride and underestimating the harshness of reality. Seita`s fervent faith in the Japanese empire is an ironic shot at the government of the time; they too had a part in these events for bringing the American military to their own doorstep and putting off the unconditional surrender. The film never picks out one party to villainize. It doesn`t give us the respite of anger or hatred, or any other respite at all, from the depression that this film positively bleeds. Because the viewer knows the inevitable outcome early on, every bit of childish sweetness, every instance of love between the siblings is all the more heartbreaking. There is no escaping the sadness, and for this it is unique as a film that is engrossing, but also tremendously difficult to sit through. Grave of the Fireflies is neither a history lesson, nor is it entertainment. It is a chronicle of events that never comes to a climactic point. There is no definitive explosion of melodrama that marks the film`s peak. It feels pointless, much the way such events would feel in real life. The passivity with which the children express their emotions takes our pity for them to another level. When they lament their misfortune, they weep, or stare blankly, as if they no longer have the strength to give themselves release through bawling loudly, or screaming bitterly at the sky. That battered demeanor communicates a stifling sense of resignation and depression that is more powerful than any melodramatic outcry. The animation is a little stiff and unspectacular for a Ghibli feature, but the film rarely relies on motion to convey anything so this is not a big hinderance, easily made up for by the spectacular detail and variety in way the characters` facial expressions illustrate the different nuances of pain in different situations. The most striking element by far is the gruesome and uninhibited way it shows how war can destroy humanity. People insensitively handle the very graphically drawn dead bodies. There is an instance when the poverty stricken Setsuko visits a doctor. As she lifts up her shirt, the lines of her ribs are clearly visible, and with the depression in her abdomen and festering infections all over, it`s clear that she is in imminent danger, yet the doctor barely bats an eyelash. As striking as the depictions of death and disease are to us, it is even more alarming that the characters in this film look at it so nonchalantly. The music is largely slow and tragic, but a couple of pieces have a gentler, melancholic feel that fit well with Setsuko`s oblivious innocence. The discordant sounding strings can be a bit heavy handed, and there are times when some of the sweeter scenes are obtusely paired with heartbreaking pieces, but for the most part the music is elegantly used. Fictional tragedies are usually bittersweet. In Romeo and Juliet, an unfortunate circumstance created a misunderstanding, but the final acts themselves were in the name of the most beautiful emotion in the world. The audience can then take comfort in the fact that the misfortune was in the end, an expression of love. You`ll find none of that in Grave of the Fireflies. I groped around desperately for some reprieve, a character to hate, a moral to the story, a silver lining, something that could make sense of the senseless tragedy. I found no such thing, and perhaps this is more in tune with reality, but I`d prefer fiction to indulge in a poetic flourish of some sort, just for the sake of balance; a bit of sweet to all the bitterness. Grave of the Fireflies is commendable for not selling out the unforgiving nature of reality, but as a result, it is the one of the most suffocating animated films ever created.

Currently, Grave of the Fireflies has reached "Akira status" in that it's a huge black mark on your credibility as an anime reviewer if you didn't watch it due to the influence it had in the 90's til today. Like Akira, by today's standards of storytelling in cinema/TV/anime, this 1988 film is a classic, but cannot in good conscience be considered perfect. But it left an impression in me, especially in the realism of the tragedy depicted. In GOTF, Takahata explains WHY wars are problematic and WHY death of children matters in his perspective in a way that extends beyond the obvious. The story is simple:it's about two kids adjusting their lives during WWII. Takahata reveals the conclusion of the film in the first scene; the key then is to pay attention because he throws copious symbolism and metaphors throughout the film. PROS -concise: fairly short film; focuses on the 2 mc's well and does not attempt to bite more than it could chew with preachy anti-war chants or vilification of one or the other -symbolisms are compelling yet easy enough for WWII non-experts to pick up on first viewing. this is the strongest aspect of the film imo -fleshed out relationship between the two MCs -brings out "comprehensiveness" of anime with detailed scenes of their lifestyle (you'll appreciate it WAY more if you're familiar with older Asian cinema and culture, especially the last "3 candy") -real depiction of people: there are no angel/demon characters here--just humans. The MC's are questionable as well in many ways besides the obvious "poor people will do X to survive" -my FAVORITE part about kid protagonist animes: "kids actually stay kids"--they don't suddenly spew out mind-blowing, Plato dialogues when climax asks for it; they don't suddenly become adults after a hardship; they don't preach us with moral opinions CONS -by today's standards, multiple instances where I thought the film could've added more dialogue and development to the character, especially Seita -relative to studio ghibli standards, music wasn't amazing nor memorable, and thought it was even misused at some parts -basically had problems due to its relative age but I do hold their shortcomings accountable because other older films like Ghost in the Shell imo still stand on par with today's anime no problem in terms of story and animation quality Ultimately, this film is not one of the "best" anime that I've seen as someone who often seeks for creative and compelling story. BUT I do feel the absolute necessity to state: Perhaps Isao Takahata wanted this film to cater to a different demographic in 1988. The Wind Rises is considered by some as one of the lesser films due to lack of wild imagination prevalent in Howls Moving Castle or Spirited Away. Yet Miyazaki stated that Wind Rises was his ONLY film that brought tears to his eyes. He clearly did not make that film to cater to our demands; it was more a personal film for himself, his youthful desire to serve the Imperial Army, and his contemporary Japanese citizens. What I'm saying is: Takahata, Miyazaki, and Studio Ghbli does NOT "owe" us anything. Regardless of how much you choose to think about this film, you'll hate it if you watch it with an inflated ego. I debated between an 8 or a 9, but I decided that, objectively, the film's impact and cultural significance should NOT be considered when reviewing it. Feel free to read my analysis that discuss the particular symbolism and overarching messages behind the tragedy after the viewing. In the end, I see no reason other than for credibility why one should watch this film if WWII is not a topic he/she's interested in. My reason: highschool lit professor told me that, to learn about a group of people, rather than reading their history books, it's more vividly realized when you engage in their films, music, language, and stories--GOTF is an excellent example of that. END OF REVIEW WARNING: ANALYSIS SPOILS THIS FILM & THE END OF THE WIND RISES Points to address in detail about GOTF in conjunction with another relevant film, the Wind Rises -The danger of interconnecting nationalism/pride with human lives: As hard as it is to admit, Seita and Setsuko signed their death warrant when they ignored the farmer's advice to "swallow their pride and ask for their aunt's forgiveness." To me, the parallel was clear: the Japanese army and their "brave" kamikazes represent resolve and pride. Yet that same tenacity resulted in atomic bombings that crushed lives and hopes of many with unhealed scars still engraved in history. At the end, Takahata asks: is this worth it? Another danger of nationalism is that it rationalizes merciless killings. Air raids and bombings were a motif that engages in indiscriminate killings of innocent lives (children or women or men) but with discrimination of an entire group of population and human beings as "evil" enemies just because of their skin color. Notice this is NOT solely a critique on Americans. Seita curses US for bringing war and death to his father, yet he's not mature enough to ask: But what about Pearl Harbor? What about THEIR friends? What bout THEIR family? (shout out to Pain) Wars breed anger so blinding that it conceals what may be truly important. Notice the biggest irony in the end: Seita and Setsuku's prideful independence from his aunt ends with her starving alone to death and him starving as a beggar disgusted by his OWN PEOPLE. Once again, he asks: Pride. Is it worth it? -Seita and Setsuko aren't angels--they're kids: I loved how Takahata was careful to not let their sudden poverty make them automatically humble and with complete humility. Seita smirks at having outsmarted familes screaming/running from bombings and stealing their belongings even though he might've robbed their chance of acquiring sustenance. Setsuko does not yet understand her situation and causes unreasonable demands and troubles for his brother. They didn't ration foods very well. I think if Takahata wanted to, Seita would've had a truthful, momentary rant on his sister being a burden. One of the saddest parts for me was how well he presented the unawarenss of children. This brings me back to when people criticized Jiro in TWR (the wind rises) for being aloof and seemingly not affected by the things that were occurring around him--I disagree. I think it's more that he HAD to live on so that he didn't have time to mourn or be introspective. Similar case here imo: To the eyes of these children, life moved on at a pace so fast that they didn't have the luxury to be aware to even mourn about their situation or their family most of the time. -In defense of the aunt (symbol of selling kimono): Many younger viewers see the aunt as a cold-hearted person who abandoned the kids. I on the other hand totally understand. Emotionally and even biologically, the difference in the affection that your mother has towards you vs any other relative is usually night/day big. If you didn't give birth to them, why should you feel responsible? Especially at a time like this? This is not cruel, but just the way it works. When Seito sold his mother's kimono: it was a foreshadowing that the affection that they used to have has faded, and that they are in fact, alone in this world. -Fireflies: Seito went out of his way to avoid showing Setsuku dead people, but it only took her looking at a dead pile of fireflies to question the very premise of war: DEATH. "Why are their lives so short?" she asks. At the same time, Seito parallels their grave with the grave of the dead people piled on like fireflies. "Why did their lives have to be shortened?" I think he asks. This is compelling because this scene was followed after Seito's chant of the nationalist navy song the night before thinking about his father and the imperial army. Despite such pride in his father and country, after seeing dead fireflies, and by extension, people's deaths, while wars seemingly are inevitable, Seito begins to think that there is something off and inhuman about the nature of wars. What part of war exactly justifies that pile of death? Takahata never answers the question. -All death≠tragedy. so WHY is this a tragedy?: Personally, two aspects of GOTF make this a compelling tragedy. First, the last scene: The ghosts of Seito and Setsuku seem like they are FINALLY at peace. Takahata thinks that these kids are better off in their after life than here. This contrasts specially with the ending of TWR as the climactic message said by Jiro's wife is for him to LIVE. No matter what happens, no matter the "wind that rises" that may distort the course of your passion into military/war/death, one must LIVE. Takahata is saying the opposite--that some times, under certain circumstances, it's better to let go. I think we can all think of moments in our lives worth living for despite the negativity and the work that we must dedicate in this world. However, these two kids were so pressured and bullied by survival and war that they died never having felt that imo. Second, Takahata shows that childrens' death is a tragedy--not because they are simply "children." Seito truly tried his best to live in this world. Yet children need support before they become independent. In this film, that hope that one could cling on to, his parents, his sister, the community...everything was destroyed, literally and emotionally by war. Killing children is wrong because they, in a very real way, represent the future--the hope of a better tomorrow. But they can't do it by themselves.

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