In
Miyazaki World, Susan Napier argues Japan’s
traumatic national experiences during WWII, especially the incendiary bombings,
was a formative influence of Hayao Miyazaki’s work. Clearly, this was also true
for his Studio Ghibli colleague Isao Takahata. In fact, the war hit much closer
to home for Takahata, who fled a bombing raid over Okayama in his bare feet. It
was an experience that directly informs his great 1988 masterwork, Grave of the Fireflies (trailer here), which opens this
Friday at the Quad.
14-year-old-ish
Seita was supposed to take his five-year-old sister Setsuko to meet their
mother in the bomb shelter. Ironically, they survived because he delayed too
long and did not make it to the ill-fated bunker in time. However, it is
questionable whether this can be described as good fortune. Instead, Seita will
be forced to fend for himself and his sister in an increasingly callous and
chaotic world.
For
a while, the siblings find refuge with an aunt they hardly know, but her cold,
mercenary reserve soon turns into overt hostility. It quickly becomes clear
that brother and sister will have to survive the war and its aftermath on their
own. Sadly, the in media res prologue does not give viewers cause for optimism
on that score.
Takahata’s
adaptation of Akiyuki Nosaka’s autobiographical novella has a well-deserved reputation as the most emotionally devastating
animated film maybe ever. Basically, it is like spreading the intensity and
sorrow of Bambi’s mother’s death over an entire feature. Even if you have a
heart of stone, you will feel for the two youngsters and be moved by their love
for each other. In all honesty, it is hard to find any aspect of Grave that could be considered a defense
or white-washing of the Imperial military regime, but the only horrors of war
depicted are those suffered by Japan. As a result, the film has sometimes
stirred controversy in countries formerly occupied by Japan, where references
to the war invariably provoke vehement responses. Yet, it is hard to conceive
of a film less likely to inspire jingoistic militarism.
Even
though she is animated, Setsuko is such a believable five-year-old, it is
deeply distressing to watch her when the film reaches the third act. At times,
Seita approaches martyr-like levels of devotion to Setsuko, but Takahata gives
him just enough flaws and annoying teenager moments to keep him human. Regardless,
Takahata is definitely going for emotional extremes rather than psychological
subtleties.
The
animation is consistently an unusually expressive means to that end. We always
understand what the two main characters feel, quite acutely. Yet, some of the
backdrops are quite beautiful and strikingly cinematic. This is truly a classic
example of Studio Ghibli’s uncompromising production standards.
Grave is the sort of
film that transcends labels. It is not just an important animated film. It is a
significant work of cinema, of any genre or format. It is Takahata’s career-defining
masterpiece—or at least it was until he finally finished The Tale of Princess Kaguya. Very highly recommended, Grave of the Fireflies opens this Friday
(1/4) in New York, at the Quad Cinema.
