Grave Of The Fireflies
Posted by 7th on August 04, 2004

I haven't had an easy time of it composing my thoughts in regards to this film. When thinking on whether I would give it a positive or negative review, I kept thinking on what it is exactly that we homo sapiens enjoy so much about the movies. I personally go for the adrenaline rush, the films that have the "oh WOW" factor... I've never, ever been much for films that pull at the heart strings, as I always come out of it feeling like I'd been emotionally manipulated.

Take Schindler's List, for example. I can appreciate its artistry, its cinematic perfection. I can appreciate Liam Neeson's stellar performance, and all the symbolism and imagery that made this film the legend that it is. And I have seen it on numerous occasions. But I can't say that I "enjoyed" the film. Schindler's List is not a film I watch to enjoy myself. I tend to be of the mindset that there's enough pain and misery in the world without spending two hours of my life watching someone else's thoughts about how horrible it can be. Sure, I'm a cynic and pessimist at heart, but I try to keep my head and heart above water whenever I can. Movies like Schindler's List, Terms of Endearment, and so on... they leave me feeling like I've been run over. I leave them completely drained of the joy of life, and often times it takes me days to get the malaise of it out of my system.

So perhaps you can imagine my trepidation when Grave of the Fireflies was recommended to me, a film concerning the aftermath of World War II upon the nation of Japan. I bought it on a monday at the local Target for 14.95, though it was Helsing Volume One that I really WANTED to watch. I stood there in the video department with Grave in my left hand, and Helsing in my right, for almost an hour, agonizing over the decision. If I bought Helsing, I'd most definitely come out of it in a good mood, though I'd be committing myself to paying ridiculous amounts of money to purchase all of the seemingly endless volumes (this is why I tend to prefer one shot animes such as Akira or Vampire Hunter D as opposed to series. I get a two hour action fix, and it's cheaper.)

But every time I turned to make my way to the register, I stopped, and looked down at the copy of Grave in my left hand. If I didn't buy it, those who'd recommended it so highly would most likely think less of me, especially after finding out what I'd chosen over it. I'd be labeled as someone who "didn't get it," the anime equivalent of a WWE detractor. Worst of all, if I didn't buy it, I'd spend the whole time watching Helsing with Grave in the back of my mind, wondering if I'd made the right choice.

In the end, as is obvious, I sat Helsing back on the shelf and bought Grave. I don't regret buying the film, as its message is quite universal (aside from snibets of Anti-American rhetoric) and got to me in ways few films have. While it's not a film I'll watch over and over again, it's nonetheless a moving film, and a welcome addition to any library.

Most American WWII films center on "the good guys," the Americans, naturally. While most films deal with the atrocities of the Nazis, there have been a fair share of films concerning our war with Japan, most recently the horrid, horrid Ben Assflack kissy-huggy snoozefest disguised as an action film called Pearl Harbor.

It goes without saying that every side in a war thinks they are the heroes, their opponents the villains. A good example of this is the excellent film "Enemy At The Gates" starring Ed Harris and Jude Law as crackshot snipers (German and Russian respectively) hunting each other through the ruins of Stalingrad. We as Americans, though enemies with the Russians for decades before the Wall fell, identify with Jude Law's character, fighting against greater numbers and the supposed superior skill of Ed Harris's heartless killing machine. And yet as we watch the film, we have no doubt that each feels they are fighting the good fight.

This is the mindset from the Japanese point of view that is expressed in Grave of the Fireflies. The Japanese are heroes, the Americans vile despots out to topple their ancient empire and heritage, spitting in the face of honor by dropping the bomb on thousands upon thousands of innocents. The fact that Japan attacked first at Pearl Harbor while their ambassadors lied to President Roosevelt in peace talks is not mentioned here, and rightfully so. This film was not made to express the finality of who was right and who was wrong, only to express the consequences of war upon two individuals. The fact that they are Japanese rather than Americans is almost inconsequential. They could've just as easily been two Jews in Poland, or two islanders from Pearl Harbor, and the theme would remain, for the most part, intact. So we'll leave the talk of Pearl Harbor and final judgements of guilt from here on out, and focus on the lives of these two poor souls.

The film begins in the year 1945. A young man named Sieta lies dying, lost, abandoned, and alone in a mostly demolished train station. As he breathes his last breath, he sees in the distance his younger sister, Setsuko, sitting on a bench, watching him. And then he dies. A stranger rummages through his pockets, and finds only an empty tin can, where he once kept gummy sweets for his sister.

From here we flash back to earlier in the war. We see graphic images of American planes dropping napalm cannisters on small Japanese villages where most homes are made of little more than thin wood and paper.

Sieta is a young, energetic and optimistic boy, full of pride for his father, who serves in the Navy, and constantly watching over his sister Setsuko, who seems here to be about 3-4 years of age. Despite the horrors of war all around them, Sieta stays upbeat, and does his best to keep Setsuko sheltered from the death and destruction around her, taking her on trips to the beach and shopping excursions, singing and laughing and doing his best to fill each day of her life with at least one bright and shining moment of pure joy.

And then she is gone. Sieta discovers that his mother was injured gravely during one of the more devastating attacks. He hides this fact from his sister, judging that she is perhaps too young to understand the finality of death. He instead tells her that she is sick, and is being treated at the hospital.

For a time, Sieta and Setsuko go to live with a friend of the family. She takes him in out of compassion for their mother, but before long it becomes apparent that she doesn't really want them to be there. Realizing this, Sieta takes it upon himself to find someplace safe where he and Setsuko can wait things out until his father returns from sea. He finds two abandoned storage caves carved into the wall of an embankment overlooking a lake. Here they make a simple but happy home, eating rice and whatever else he can find (including Setsuko's beloved gummies) and even installing a rope swing for her to play on.

But the good times are few and far between. Sieta has trouble finding money, finding fewer and fewer odd jobs to keep themselves fed. Meanwhile, Setsuko is beginning to show disturbing signs of health problems beyond those associated with simple malnutrion. She seems weaker and weaker with each passing day, and yet still finds the strength to smile when Sieta tries to cheer her up.

One night, they see flittering upon the lake a living ocean of fireflies, flittering about, their brief lives focused on the moment, and not by what little time they have to live it. Sieta and Setsuko bring some of these fireflies inside their cave, and look up at them within their mosquito canopy as though they are looking up at a night sky full of stars. They laugh together, poor, destitute, and yet happy in the company of their love for one another.

The next morning, Sieta awakens to find Setsuko burying the little bodies of the fireflies who kept them company all through the night. She informs Sieta that she's having diarhea. He takes her to the doctor, but has no money for medicine, which is scarce as it is. He tries to fight her illness by searching for more sources of money (he discovers later on that his father has died at sea, and so can not send them money for food) and eventually resorts to stealing and is assulted trying to steal corn. The cops let him go, but it's of little solace, as when he finally makes it back home, Setsuko is so weak she can barely hold up her own little head.

He cares for her as best he can, force feeding her and dressing the open sores spreading across her back and legs. But it's an unwinnable battle, and the certainty of that fact is as plainly drawn on his face as it would be on the most gifted of actors. When finally her time comes, he burns her body in a little, pathetic pine box, surrounded by her few meager posessions that brought her so much happiness. He weeps openly, and breathes in the smoke of her life, as the cinders rise like fireflies into the clouds.

I won't lie to you. I had to get up and leave the room at this point and try and find some tissue... I'm not making that up... As much as I hate it, the damned movie brought me to tears for the first time since I was a mere seven years old, watching ET say goodbye to Elliott. And it's simple as to why, really. Though Setsuko was a little girl, some of her mannerisms reminded me of my little one... And watching Sieta standing over his sister's funeral pyre, it was like standing over... Well, I don't even want to type it, honestly. It's one of the most painful and heartbreaking scenes I've ever seen on film, so much so that I'm not altogether sure I would want to subject myself to it again.

I suppose the message of the film, at its core, would be in the title itself. In the greater scheme of things, our lives are not unlike fireflies, a brief spark of life that is all too often over too soon. We light the world with our thoughts and dreams for what in the spanse of time is nothing more than an instant, and what we do with that time is the most essential aspect of it, not how long it lasts.

This story is partially based on the real life experiences of Nosaka Akiyuki, the author of the book upon which the film is based, as directed by Isao Takahata. Akiyuki was a boy in Japan during WWII, and just as in the film, his younger sister did die of starvation, and he has lived his life since then under a constant shroud of guilt. I can only hope that his Setsuko enjoyed what little life she got to partake in, and that she has found peace in death that was denied her in life by the flames of war.

"Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life."
-John Muir

-=7th=-