I’m a bit “whatever” about anime, at least the kind exalted by the obsessives who set up appreciation societies at universities or consider a world of wide-eyed super children their perfect home, one that they refuse to leave to the detriment of their actual 3D life. A lot of it just seems reductive and sentimental where its characters’ emotions are concerned – loads of blushing, unchecked streams of disappearing tears (both lacrimation and perspiration), wild face faults. Then there’s the shorthand X-eyes (for concussion) or black eyes (for death). I know this iconography defines a style and every style has its own, but the point is I just felt anime wasn’t for me (oh, except for Pokemon and Spirited Away – but they don’t count).
I say felt because watching The Grave of the Fireflies the other night forced me to admit that it is unfair to judge an entire country’s animation output on what – after doing a bit of research – is actually called manga. It’s a late revelation I know, but it turns out manga is the style I don’t like; anime just means Japanese animation. And Fireflies is a brilliant Japanese animation.
Set in Kobe, Japan, near the end of World War II, it chronicles the desperate struggle of two children whose mother is killed during the American air raids on the city. Seita (14) and his sister Setsuko (4) find themselves having to trade their possessions, find their own shelter and steal food, all in a bid to stay alive.
It is a story set up for the worst kind of sentimentality but, thankfully, the film earns your tears through a slow portrait of the relationship between the siblings rather than slushy dialogue and bittersweet score. Despite living in harrowing circumstances, Setsuko is as fascinated and irritated by the world as all infants are in any situation. Seita facilitates his sister’s understanding of events and looks after her health while making sure he engages her in fun and games too. They both grieve over their mother in a much more understated and telling way than simply bursting out crying. The practicality of a hand-to-mouth existence is also well portrayed without resorting to saccharine ploys for the audience’s sympathy.
Around this central relationship is built a relentless depiction of the realities of civilian life and death during the war. Dead bodies and disease are presented matter-of-factly, alongside famine, firebombing and a ubiquitous survival-of-the-fittest mentality. 
It is a doomy backdrop, against which the plight of the orphans looks even more fragile and precious. A small tin of fruit drops – a rare commodity in a rationed society – serves as a motif for their vulnerability. Setsuko’s happiness hangs on how many of the multi-coloured sweets remain, although like the lives of everyone around them, once they’re gone they’re gone. Fireflies, too, bind themselves to the personal story of the siblings. They light up the dark cave where the children find refuge. Though they remind Setsuko of the American B-29 bombers, the glowing insects are magical to her and their short lifespan goes hand-in-hand with her epiphany regarding the ephemeral nature of human life.
The only negative aspect of the film is actually a disguised positive (and only applies to the English Language version I saw). It is the dubbing. The dubbing itself is actually fantastic, technically. Unlike many foreign language dubs, the dialogue actually makes sense when translated into English. It is also delivered well by the voice actors and matches the characters’ movements. The foley is great too – cups on saucers, footsteps, pouring rice; all of it is close and well recorded. However, the problem is the same as with any dubbed film: replacing a film’s original language is unnecessary and completely undermines the importance of watching a culture different to your own. What makes this film the perfect demonstration of this issue is the war that the story covers and the nations that are involved; to watch horrified Japanese folk running about with American accents while being bombed by American planes is just distracting and strange. It is easily solved. Just watch it in the original language with English subtitles. That goes for any foreign film.
Director Isao Takahata affirms that Grave of the Fireflies is not an anti-war film. He’s right to an extent, the film doesn’t push a certain ideology, its characters aren’t tasked to insert lines like “isn’t this war quite bad?” into their dialogue. That’s what makes it powerful; any message one might read into the film comes purely from watching an accurate representation of the way war affects those it shouldn’t involve. If your natural reaction to that is “isn’t war quite bad?” well… then that just goes to show that this is one of the best anti-war films ever made.
Jon Bates Writes 