Cory Massimino

Review: Grave of the Fireflies (1988)

September 16, 2020 by Cory

★★★★★

Grave of the Fireflies is not about politics, but the consequences of politics; not about war, but the consequences of war; not about evil but the consequences of evil; not about isolation but the consequences of isolation; not about loss, but the consequences of loss. Part of what makes this movie such a unique experience is that Takahata approaches destruction and tragedy through an audio-visual style that emphasizes warmth, empathy, and appreciation for the small details of life. Indeed, Grave of the Fireflies is all about those small details. The protagonists are as small compared to the war as the fireflies are to them.

This movies powerfully illustrates the final months of World War 2 from the perspective of two young Japanese children. We never see anything remotely close to a battlefield, only small villages, shops, forests, rivers, and beaches. We never even see a single soldier, let alone any politicians or warships. We see nothing more and nothing less than what the protagonists see: airplanes high in the sky periodically raining down fire.

There isn’t really an antagonist except for those planes and the basic biological requirements of human survival, the latter being constantly jeopardized by the bombings that destroy buildings, food, and resources. The ensuing physical and psychological toll on the main characters are totally foreseen, but nonetheless hard to watch. War is not just bombs. War is poverty. War is isolation. War is rations. War is malnutrition. War is starvation. War is disease. War is diarrhea. War is rashes. War is deliriousness. War is death. War is suffering.

Perhaps the oppressive aunt is a sort of antagonist, but she really only matters insofar as she was a means for the siblings to survive — a means that Seita stubbornly rejects, likely dooming him and Setsuko for good. While his choice is understandable, even inspiring, it’s not a prudential one. We all want autonomy, but sometimes the world forces us into situations where we have no real choice but give it up.

Instead of movies that attempt to show the badness of war through the malice and cruelty of politicians and soldiers, Grave of the Fireflies shows the badness of war through the love and resilience of a brother and sister. Rather than epic-scale scenes, military settings, and violent action, this movie really just chronicles the everyday life of two young children desperately trying to weather war and the resulting isolation, poverty, starvation, and deaths of their parents.

While war is big, not everything that happens because of war is big. Grave of the Fireflies is not huge, flashy, or complex. It doesn’t have to be. It has the confidence, integrity, wisdom, and trust in the viewer to be small, meditative, and simple. It gives voice to the voiceless. It tells the story that history books don’t. It remembers people history forgot. People history couldn’t even remember if it tried. Do you remember all the fireflies you’ve killed in your life?

Takahata is telling two stories: one about two people and one about millions. He crafts a detailed, realistic tragedy that by itself emotionally devastates any viewer with a shred of empathy while also reminding us at every turn that exactly what is happening to this brother and sister is happening to an unimaginable number of people at the same time; that it’s always happened and that it probably always will happen. In cherishing the small stuff, Grave of the Fireflies tackles the biggest of all subject matters in thoughtful and poetic fashion, even if heartbreakingly sad. I guess sometimes tragedy is good for the soul.

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