Grave of the Fireflies Review

Until my daughter was born, my own death was the scariest thing in the world. 

It's a surreal and almost unacceptable concept, the idea of ones own mortality, and until that life changing day back in October of 2007 it was the most haunting and unsettling thought I could have. When I heard her first cry, when I saw her tiny face and hands and feet, when I held her for the first time, nothing was more beautiful and yet terrifying at the same time. She was a person that would live her life in the same world I had occupied for 23 years at that point, a world full of hate and anger and judgement and bigotry and violence. A world where a day doesn't go by without someone committing unthinkable actions to an innocent life simply trying to go about their day, a final breathe taken but unappreciated because in a just world there would be millions more to follow.

I had only known her for minutes, and yet I was more in love than I had ever been before. Any selfish concerns I had quickly melted away, but what replaced them was even more troubling than before. I was literally holding her precious life in my hands and from that moment forward I have been petrified to let my guard down, to let go and leave her vulnerable to an unforgiving world.

Grave of the Fireflies is one of the greatest efforts in the rich history of Studio Ghibli, and that is saying something. Drop the word animated, it's irrelevant and demeans what I am about to say as it is often times looked upon as inferior to live action cinema. Grave of the Fireflies is one of the greatest war films ever crafted, a true masterpiece in every sense. 

Despite the backdrop of war and the fact that its impact on an entire region is central to the story, at the heart of this film is an intimate tale about two kids trying like hell to survive at a time when doing so is challenging to say the least. Hardly a day goes by without the warning sirens echoing through every corner of town, a harrowing sound that forces innocent people to flee their homes in a desperate search for safety. Surrounded by death and dealing with a shortage of food, teenager Seita and his young sister Setsuko may initially just be fictional animated characters but as the story develops they feel more and more human before our very eyes. 

I believe the reason for this is because while they may be a work of fiction, what they represent is unfortunately not. When war is declared, bombs are dropped on general areas taking with them far too many lives undeserving of such devastation. Even if they survive the attacks, the normalcy of their lives and their means to continue on are destroyed. For every bad guy that perishes, the hope and purity of a child is taken from this world and I can't think of anything more heartbreaking. It literally makes me hurt inside, to think of a little girl like Setsuko wondering where her mother is, forced to find any form of shelter to protect her from the outside world. The body of a child falling apart with each passing day without food.

As tears fell from my eyes, I imagined my own daughter under such circumstances, crying out for help with no one there to provide it. The thought destroyed me. I wanted to reach through the television and help Seita and Setsuko as if they were my own. I wanted to remind them just how beautiful the fireflies are to take their minds off of the anguish of reality. Grave of the Fireflies is such a powerful achievement I couldn't even fall asleep for a while after it was over. I was still mourning the loss of fictional characters because somewhere behind their hand drawn artistry stands real people struggling to stay alive.

"Why must fireflies die so young?"

My heart is broken, but my eyes are wide open. Grave of the Fireflies is extraordinary.

5/5

The Tale of the Princess Kaguya Review

I admit that up until a couple of years ago, I wrongly assumed that anything masterful released by the legendary Studio Ghibli must have been the work of the genius of animation, Hayao Miyazaki. I had carried with me a love for two films in particular, Spirited Away and My Neighbor Totoro, and sure enough they were both works crafted by Miyazaki himself, thus I would refer to anything similar as a "Miyazaki film". It wasn't until I fell madly in love with their recent effort The Secret World of Arrietty and I saw that it was directed by Hiromasa Yonebayashi that I recognized that the studio was bigger than a single piece, no matter how spectacular and influential that piece is. 

Isao Takahata was the co-founder of Studio Ghibli with Hayao Miyazaki, yet shamefully as of only a few hours ago his entire filmography was a total blind spot for me. Yes, that includes the supposedly masterful Grave of the Fireflies, a film many consider to be one of the finest achievements in the history of animation, a work I promise to sit down and admire sooner rather than later. Takahata is now 78 years old and his most recent effort, The Tale of the Princess Kaguya, has been nominated for the Best Animated Feature Oscar. It was time for me to lose my Takahata virginity. 

My god, it felt so good.

Magical. Mystical. Gorgeous. Devastating. The Tale of the Princess Kaguya is an absolute work of art, and it is not only the finest animated film of 2014, it belongs in the conversation regarding the best movie of any kind from last year. 

Initially I would imagine the style of animation can be a bit off-putting , as it is a far different pill to swallow than the vivid eye candy pumped out by the computers of the major studios each year, but as I have always preferred the hand drawn artistry of a Studio Ghibli film I had no problem quickly adjusting. The film begins in a bamboo forest as a man is cutting down shoots until one that is glowing stands out for obvious reasons. Inside it he discovers a miniature girl, and considering the bizarre circumstances he believes she has to be a divine miracle, one that he must bring straight home to share with his wife. What becomes quickly apparent is that she certainly is no ordinary child, as she grows far more rapidly than normal, and the two decide to raise her as their own. They decide to call her "Princess".

The beauty of a Ghibli film shines through again here, which is the fact that there is no correct singular way to appreciate the movie presented to you. One can simply sit back and be swept away by the magic of the experience, choosing to write off any portion of the narrative that might otherwise confound as merely being that way due to the fairy tale nature of it all. Others can dig deeper and really allow the prevalent themes of the work to wash over them, as Takahata clearly has so much more to say with this story than what is presented on the surface. This is why I often use the word "genius" when referring to Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli as a whole: when you are smart enough to know exactly how to make a film that can appeal to absolutely anyone regardless of how they choose to approach it, you have accomplished something worthy of massive admiration.

As strange as this may sound, considering how incredibly different the two films are, The Tale of the Princess Kaguya resonated with me for similar reasons as Richard Linklater's Boyhood did. I watched Princess grow up, and while it was joyous she grew far too fast. The progression of Princess felt like a true coming-of-age story, and as she got older she faced issues that are meaningful to any adolescent: depression, romance and the desire to follow your own path rather than the one expected of you. In the end, the idea of having to say goodbye, the idea of letting go of that child you raised, the one you love with every fiber of your being is beyond heartbreaking. It's a feeling that I cannot pretend to comprehend until I face it myself one day down the road with my own daughter. Right now she looks to me to be her everything, to life her up when she falls, to make her smile when she's down, to literally rub her back when she has trouble falling asleep. Eventually she will not need me in those ways anymore. It's inevitable, yet knowing this doesn't make it carry any less emotional weight. 

The Tale of the Princess Kaguya feels like a fable I want to experience on repeat and yet in part a reality I want to delay for as long as possible. The film features sequences that are so breathtaking and refreshingly unique, I couldn't stop myself from smiling and literally saying "wow" aloud to myself as I watched. 

I doubt this is a work that will lose its power on a revisit, yet I can't help but wish I could go back and do it again for the first time, experience some of the more remarkable moments with fresh eyes and without anticipation.

My god, it felt so good.

5/5

Spirited Away Review

If you are not familiar with the work of the legendary master of animation Hiyao Miyazaki, look up his filmography and start from the beginning. Actually, it would be a safe bet to just watch every film released by Studio Ghibli, which Miyazaki co-founded in 1985. While not every movie released by the studio has been flawless, in general the production company has put out some wonderful, imaginative work, and in my opinion their two greatest achievements are two of the finest in the history of animated cinema: My Neighbor Totoro and Spirited Away.

Spirited Away is, quite simply, an incredible piece of art, one of the finest, most detailed examples of why hand drawn animation will always burst to life in a way that computer animation is unable to. I could pause every frame of this film and admire the remarkable craftsmanship that went into it's production, as even the smallest detail in the farthest corner of the screen was treated with importance and care. My seven year old daughter sat in awe of every single minute of Spirited Away and I was right beside her feeling that same sense of wonder all over again.

Spirited Away tells the story of a 10 year old girl named Chihiro and her parents as they are on their way to their new home, but one wrong turn has them exploring an abandoned amusement park instead. The magical, mystifying world Chihiro finds herself in soon after cannot be explained by my words, and really it shouldn't. You just need to see it for yourself, but every moment is full of imagination and creativity and thematic richness that hides behind a simple tale of a young girl trying to find a way back to her parents and the world she knows.

There is a scene at one point that takes place on a train, and I don't mean to build it up as some major action packed event because it isn't. Very little technically occurs during this sequence, and yet it may be my favorite few minutes of any animated film ever. The music, the beautiful animation, the fact that the surreal scenery reminds me of a dream I once had and wish I could have again...it all adds up to pure perfection. It is a small segment of the film, just a few minutes, and it is sublime in its simplicity.

I will continue to waffle on whether My Neighbor Totoro or Spirited Away is the true Miyazaki masterpiece, but honestly it may be a tie, and that's not so bad right? Why pick one when you can watch both?

If you haven't yet, do it. Watch them both. You won't regret it.



5/5

My Neighbor Totoro Review

The imagination of a child is a wonderful, magical thing. As my daughter grows older, I sometimes can't help but just watch her play, listen to the stories she comes up with, the scenarios she invents for her toys and dolls. I have noticed the ability she has to create grand ideas and worlds with her mind, totally losing herself in them with a look of joy in her eyes that words can't describe. Even if I had the worst day at work, when I walk in the house and see her playing with 20 different toys at once, doing a different voice for each without even skipping a beat, all is right in the world.

This was my second viewing of My Neighbor Totoro, but something about this time felt totally different and new to me. I connected with it on a far greater level, striking a chord in me that I didn't notice during my debut screening. I felt emotional throughout, whether it be a smile I couldn't get rid of or tears from watching a child lost and alone. I felt a deep compassion for the father, something I don't recall experiencing before. He is a man with a lot on his plate, moving into a new home with his two daughters while his wife, their mother, is ill in the hospital, yet he still takes the time to ensure they are having fun, encouraging their imaginations to not only exist but to flourish in new and exciting ways.

I love this film, quite possibly one of, if not the greatest achievement in the history of animated films. My Neighbor Totoro may technically feature a simple story, but it's message is meaningful, touching and important. Sometimes a Father can do everything he can to be there for his kids, but it still isn't enough. Sometimes a friend who shares no blood can step in and fill their lives with love and warmth, but even so something is missing.

Sometimes a child just needs a Totoro.


5/5