Insights & Art

Straight from the dome to the plate.

Tag: Violence

The Collapse of Tradition


Animation produces emotional effects not by reproducing reality, but by heightening and simplifying it.
                                                                                          – Roger Ebert

Roger Ebert famously hailed Grave of the Fireflies (Hotaru no Haka) as one of the greatest anti-war films ever created. Since its initial release this animated classic, directed by Isao Takahata, has been associated with the dangers of militarism and the dehumanising effects of war. As Takahata and author Akiyuki Nosaka were both victims of American firebombings, there are certainly elements of pacifism which underscore the duration of the film. However it seems the real battlefield is the Japanese home front, and it is these rules and expectations which Seita and Setsuko have to navigate. The war is arguably just a trigger to explore the self-inflicted cannibalisation of Japanese society and the disintegration of ie.

Throughout many interviews Takahata has maintained that the target audience was the younger generation of the 1980s, and this film was often used as an educational video within schooling institutions. Importantly, this was also the first generation that the horrors of WWII were just figments of the past and not actual lived experiences. The importance of this shift in the public consciousness and why Takahata so outwardly addresses the youth in the film will be explained further on.

The audience is abruptly thrown into a narrative where Japan is at war, neither the enemy or the cause of this conflict is discussed. It is as if Takahata is suggesting that such details are irrelevant compared to the fact this simply forces Japanese society to change and adapt to such circumstances. Takahata does not portray the Americans as the antagonist and the Japanese as helpless casualties of foreign aggression; as most traditional anti-war films would. Paradoxically it seems it is the Japanese who are both the oppressors and the victims. The ideals of uchi and soto are dismantled as the traditional markers of Japanese identity and tribalism are abandoned in the name of self-preservation.

This is immediately highlighted in the introduction of the film, the suffering of Seita and other orphans are contrasted to the rest of Japanese society. Their decrepit statute and stationary positions accentuate the fanatic (and interestingly directionless) movement of their fellow Japanese. As if an entire generation and their memory was discarded when Japan rose to the economic powerhouse it was in the 1980s.


However, the most obvious scene of social criticism appears near the end of the film when three Japanese girls return to their wealthy home, excitedly exclaiming “It’s so good to be home… It hasn’t changed a bit.” Whilst initially it can be seen as an optimistic comment about the future of Japan, that fact it immediately follows after the passing of Setsuko paints these adolescents as callous and ignorant.

It is clear that from their western attire and their association with western technology (phonograph) that these girls are supposed to be the representations of the Japanese youth in 1980s; opulent and painfully oblivious. The proximity of the house to the caves that Seita and Setsuko lived in, is a metaphor that underneath the economic boom of the decade lie the painful memories of loss and defeat. It is not the Allied soldiers who are presented as indifferent to the suffering of the Japanese, but rather the Japanese themselves.


In a very eye opening interview Takahata states that one of his original goals was to ‘depict the boy as a contemporary boy, rather than a boy in that time.’ It is with this new found knowledge that one must address the film and see Seita’s actions as not just as personal decisions but rather a mirroring of the ideals and values held by the Japanese youth of the 1980s.

In one of the opening scenes of the film, Seita carries Setsuko upon his back trying to find his way to the bomb shelter. However, during this journey, Seita pauses and the camera spends an usually long time lingering upon a bucket, ladder and pool; tools used to fight fires. Torn between giri and ninjo, Seita chooses to flee towards safely. Almost immediately afterwards, as if an act of divine retribution, the houses around him explode into an uncontrollable blaze of fire and the skies immediately darken. Symbolically, it would seem the reason why the city of Kobe fell to the fire was not because of the American bombings, but rather an embrace of kojinshugi over ie.


Seita’s fire brigade uniform, iconic of Japan’s fashion during WWII serves not only to connect him towards the school attire of his modern day contemporaries, but also as a constant reminder of his failure to fill his obligation. Throughout the film as Seita becomes ever more removed from ie and the community, his uniform begins to disintegrate off his body. Yet in death, Seita’s uniform is restored, serving as an ominous warning that he (and the audience) will never be able to shake off their responsibilities to the nation, invoking some of the more fatalistic elements of Bushido.

Noting how consumerism has weakened the pillars of Japanese tradition, Takahata continues his criticism by stating ‘[Seita] doesn’t bear with hardships. When the aunt threatens him by saying “Let’s have our meals separately” he is relieved’… As a result, his life becomes harder. Such is the feelings held by today’s kids.’

The consequences of isolation is juxtaposed to the prior scene of surprising optimism as Seita rummages through his destroyed home and symbolically bathes in water spouting from a burst pipe. In a traditional anti-war film, this scene of returning to a destroyed community would have been a moment of intense emotional pain, yet Seita seems almost unreactive to the destroyed infrastructure. Seita and Setsuko may have lost their mother but they were still on good terms with their auntie, and thus the family unit survived: Japanese society was still adhering to its traditions, even after experiencing such causalities.


The question must be asked, why Takahata was so intensely focused on having his film connect with the Japanese youth of the baburu keiki. The 1970s and 80s, falls into what sociologist Osawa Masachi terms as ‘kyoko no jidai’ or roughly translated as the ‘age of fiction’, a period marked by a public shift on tradition. Whilst the 1960s and 70s (or riso no jidai; ‘age of idealism) aimed to change society from within established perimeters. The period of Kyoko no jidai, fuelled by an explosion of capitalism combined with the radicalisation of leftist politics saw a desire to reimagine society completely, without adherence to past traditions. It is from within this context of cultural change from which Grave of the Fireflies emerges.

“… But [the youth’s] often nihilistic attitude combined with an aggressive materialism stand in distinctive contrast to their parent’s values.”
                                                                                         – Susan Napier

(Nakanishi, 2003)

The post war years of 1979 to 1993 saw a steep rise in crime rates of juveniles, simultaneously followed by a dramatic increase in juvenile arrests. And it this troubled generation of Japanese delinquents which was the target audience of Grave of the Fireflies. The desire to rein the youth is expressed in Takahata’s comments; “Just like today’s junior high students, a 14-years old looks unemotional or grumpy.” Such comments leave very little room when it comes to addressing the objective of this film.

This is not to say that Grave of the Fireflies completely neglects to condemn war , but instead that its main focus is a close inspection on the Japanese character in times of trial. One of the most powerful scenes condemning militarism occurs after the fire bombings have ended and both Seita and Setsuko were able to escape (not with the rest of society at the shelters but rather to a sewer reminiscent of their eventual ‘ukiyo’). A hellish montage of soldiers and civilians dying is followed by a lone male feverishly screaming “Long Live the Emperor”. Situated amongst the backdrop of a burning building; his overly zealous rhetoric is the fan which fuels the self-immolation of Japanese society.


However, in the scene above, one could just as easily interpreted it as an anti-war message or as a cautionary warning against Japanese society being swept up by the tides of far right politics. Tellingly, both Seita and Setsuko die after WWII concludes, during a period where Americans had ‘officially’ become an ally, and peace had technically been reinstated. One must question if Grave of the Fireflies is at its core an anti-war film, as it spends so much time addressing the consequences of social decisions and not exploring the horrors of international war.

This criticism of the Japanese youth is reflected in two highly emotional scenes where both Seita and Setsuko break the fourth wall and communicate directly to the audience. In the scene directly after Seita and Setsuko’s last encounter with the fireflies and the pleasant idylls of nature, Seita walks outside the cave to see Setsuko crouching in the dirt. Setsuko starts crying as she begins to bury the fireflies and in a highly emotional moment asks “Why do fireflies have to die so soon?” It is important to not only note her words but the manner in which this dialogue is conveyed. The linear narrative of the story is broken and the camera shifts to a point of view shot of Setsuko’s teary face; positioning the audience as the recipient of her question.


Analysing the exact definition of what fireflies symbolise in this piece of work is rather difficult as they cover such a large myriad of ideas. But by immediately injecting flashbacks of Seita’s and Setsuko’s mother being thrown into a ditch, combined with the previous mention that ‘[a kamikaze plane] looks like a firefly.’ I believe that Setsuko’s question forces audience to confront why they have forgotten the memories of the fallen victims, relegating their sacrifices to pointless events along the spectrum of Japanese history. Did their suffering have any meaning and if not, then why not?

This is reinforced by the following scene, which is arguably one of the most manipulative within the entire film. A wave of intrusive Japanese children carelessly trespass on the caves that Seita and Setsuko lived in. After such a powerfully emotional scene just moments prior, the audience cannot but see their ignorance as anything but problematic. Regarding the previous example of the Japanese girls returning to their house, it is highly telling that Takahata constantly uses ignorant children as the symbol of those untouched by war.

Arguably the cause of Seita and Setsuko’s demise isn’t the war as apart from the opening scenes of the film, the audience is never again shown the graphic consequences of conflict. Likewise, Takahata portrays Japanese society as still intact after its surrender at the concluding moments of the film. In the scenes when Seita tries to buy charcoal for his sister’s funeral, there is an unusual amount of sunlight present and the farmer seems oddly optimistic, noticeably different to the feelings of the Seita and the audience. As someone who previously advised Seita to return to his auntie, this farmer stands as the ideological opposite to Seita, someone who did not abandon his station, even during turmoil. Life as a Japanese farmer and as a cog in the Japanese system continues, even in the face of defeat.

Likewise, Seita’s compliance in the selling of his mother’s kimonos is also used as a metaphor for the self-cannibalisation of Japan from within. In complete disregard for his mother’s memory and filial piety, Seita trades in a symbol of Japanese femininity and motherhood for instant gratification. The camera then pans to the ghost of Seita covering his ears and horrified by this ultimately pointless decision, as the children die anyway, and paradoxically due to a lack of parental care. This act is symbolic because it marks the start of the pair’s divorce from any forms of familial relationship, their relationship with their auntie rapidly decays afterwards: Seita’s pride and Setsuko’s willingness to follow her brother have made them orphans both literally and spiritually.

The final scene of this film however is arguably the most insightful look into the intentions of Takahata’s when directing this film. Having failed to receive proper Buddhist or Shinto burial rites, both Seita and Setsuko return as spirits, they’re marginalised on the outskirts of the city; disconnected to the wealth of the city. As Setsuko lays her head on her brother’s lap and the main theme begins to crescendo, Seita breaks the fourth wall and gives the audience an accusatory stare.


Slowly the camera pans upwards, and the fireflies; symbols of the kamikaze pilots, Seita’s mother and other countless forgotten Japanese victims are drowned out by the overwhelming lights of Kobe. As audiences, it is not hard to see this futuristic city as the stark contrast to the poverty and suffering of those caught in WWII. Once again the question is asked whether or not the stories of the older generation have been forgotten, and if so then why? Nosaka’s words captures this sense of tension and discomfort with the rapidly changing Japan; “… High-rise buildings and super-highways were once just futuristic dreams… [I] cannot help but see them amidst sunlit ruins,” echoing a real fear that Japan will forget its past.

Perhaps the most conclusive proof regarding the stance of Grave of the Fireflies is found in Takahata’s continued insistence that “[The film] is not at all an anti-war anime and contains no such message.” Whilst Takahata and Nosaka’s played large roles in shaping what this film eventually became, it is fair that audiences should have the right to interpret this film however they wish. Nor does this essay wish to diminish Roger Ebert’s remarks that this film “involves war, the results of war and two victims of war.”

However, to insist that the film Grave of the Fireflies was created with a strict anti-war theme at its heart is rather dubious. I see this film as an attempt to bridge the generational gap between those who experienced and those untouched by Japan’s darkest days. Grave of the Fireflies doesn’t so much push an anti-war message but rather one cautioning against the abandonment of communal values. The fact that this story starts and ends with the death of the protagonist suggest that bloodshed, like the defeat of Japan in 1945, is unchangeable. Yet it is how a culture remembers their past which demonstrates what direction they will take in the future.

Unforgiven; Exposing the Darkness Within America.


Unforgiven (1992) is a modernist western film that challenges the romanticised foundations established by American culture. Unforgiven questions the manifest destiny and the ideal of violence, two themes which define the western genre, this is done by creating a world of ambiguity where characters and situations can not be categorised as right or wrong. Instead Eastwood’s films highlights the hypocrisy of the American culture which claims to be founded upon religious principles but yet have managed to carry the ‘original’ sin from Europe.

The settlers which were moving westward across the new world were justified by their belief in the ‘manifest destiny’, just like how Americans had resisted the European tyrants in the War of Independence, the American spirit would be once again forged by violence and bloodshed on the western frontier. However Unforgiven questioned this age old belief that American civilisation created order and progress out of chaos, instead Eastwood highlights the demons and sins which plague life on the western frontier where communities live without the constraints of laws or morality. This is achieved through contrasting the beautiful, open and scenic landscape with the dark and dingy atmosphere within the houses; a symbol of civilisation. Often accompanying the landscape is a soft melody which emphasises the beauty of natural environment, in contrast the low key lighting of the houses accompanied by the rain evokes a sombre and claustrophobic atmosphere when audiences are first introduced to Big Whiskey. This is especially seen when Will Munny the ‘protagonist’ of this film talks to his children through the doorway, the brilliance of the sunshine is unable to plunge into the darkness of the house. In Unforgiven, nature is portrayed as tranquil and peaceful and contrary to popular myth, it is the inhabitants who are savage and aggressive.

Little Bill’s house could been interpreted as a metaphor for the creation of an American nation, whilst it looks sturdy and strong at first, it’s faults and flaws are quickly exposed when rains starts to pour. Likewise whilst American clings onto a glorified mythology of the past, a glance at American history highlights the hypocrisy of such a stance. Furthering this symbolism is the fact Little Bill is the sole creator of the house, American’s violent traditions were crafted by white men with violent tendencies who had convinced society that their use of physical force was righteous or were beneficial to society. Similar all the killings within this film are done underneath a roof, in particular the finale where the Will Munny of the past arises due to alcoholism and anger. It’s telling the two most populated establishments in Big Whiskey are the brothel and the bar, the underpinnings of the American west wasn’t the divine guidance of the ‘manifest destiny’, but of rampant alcoholism and prostitution. The savagery no longer rests in the American Indians or the landscape, instead it is reflected off the flaws of every American living on the frontier. American civilisation was built upon the mythology that the pilgrims were spreading civilisation to the savage Indians and taming a hostile landscape. Eastwood forces the audience to question the legitimacy of these cultural beliefs, instead the characters are stripped off the romantic glossing that are found in traditional westerns. All are portrayed as sinful and chaotic in comparison to the majesty of the natural environment.

Violence was and continues to be a defining theme in the western genre, the belief that the America was ‘baptised’ by fire and conflict transfers from the War of Independence to the western frontier, where the belief was an individual must rise up with force to resist evil and savagery. The notion of ‘sacred violence’ was coined by Allen Redman (2004) which was the belief that violence can be redemptive if used to oppose evil and tyranny. This mythology is embodied in the protagonist of most spaghetti westerns, however Eastwood once again challenges this fundamental American belief. Unforgiven is a film where the morality of the characters are ambiguous, the protagonist mirrors the antagonist and both share similar vices and positives as is foreshadowed in the similarities of their names. Will Munny like Bill Daggett are both men of violence who attempt to leave the bloodshed behind but are eventually sucked back into the violent cycle of society. Both men are vulnerable to hypocrisy, whilst Daggett attempts to lower the amount of violence by banning guns in Big Whiskey, he nearly beats Will and English Bob to death and eventually kills an unarmed Ned. Likewise Munny earns the approval of the audience by staying faithful to his deceased wife, but then in a fit of rage and alcoholism, he murders multiple people in the Big Whiskey bar. By merging the boundaries of the ‘good’ and ‘bad’, when Munny finally kills Daggett, Eastwood is creating a conclusion where violence doesn’t triumph over evil instead killing is seen as a natural cycle of the sinful American society. The classic showdown between two cowboys at noon, both who are reliant upon their physical prowess, is no where to be found in Unforgiven. Instead Munny kills Skinny Dubois unarmed and then proceeds to murder others in cold blood and under the influence in alcohol. Eastwood tears down the mythological image of violence, it isn’t presented as redemptive or righteous, instead it is seen as a product of a damaged society living on the western frontier, where morality like laws have no impact upon the citizens.

America’s belief that violence can be used to redeem past injustices is still reflected through out its society today, the western frontier was shifted towards Germany and Vietnam where once again America attempts to destroy the evil and thus cement the divisions between them and the tyrannical. Eastwood’s Unforgiven on the other hand, questions the legitimacy of violence, through presenting the victim’s perspective and having the protagonist question the validity of his actions. Davie-Boy’s death at the hands of Munny was slow, excruciating and sombre, instead of a thrilling shoot out, Davie slowly bled to left after Munny shot him unarmed. Davie-Boy’s youthful appearance, his high pitched wheezing “He shot me, I’m so thirsty…” combined with the fact he was willing to give the ‘cut up whore’ an extra pony for his accomplices’ crimes earns him the empathy of the audiences. Usually within a western the vanquished evil doesn’t have a chance to speak up and instead the story focuses upon the victory of the protagonist. However Davie-Boy’s assassination was cruel, uncomfortable and lacked the glamour and glitz of the western genre, forcing audiences to recalibrate their standing after his death. The blurring of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ is also seen when Munny reflects on his killing of the ‘drover’ boy, “he didn’t do anything to deserve to get shot, at least nothin’ I could remember when I sobered up.” Unlike Ned, Munny or even English Bob who were ‘othered’ as ‘cowards, assassins and crooks’ before being beaten, allowing society to digest these violent acts, the drover stands as an innocent victim whose only wrong was living in a society without morals or laws. The need of ‘othering’ is also reflected in English Bob’s comments about how it is impossible to shoot royalty, violence is only accepted when it is used against the ‘wicked’ or in pursuit of a greater cause. In Unforgiven, violence is a fact of life, the citizens of Big Whiskey don’t receive “what they deserve” instead everyone is drawn into the cycle of violence found on the western frontier. Eastwood challenges the illusions of America being a just and noble civilisation, the western frontier is transformed from a location where American masculinity is forged to a lawless civilisation where the strong rule the weak.

The dream of America existed before the Europeans settled on the new world, it was supposed to be a land of spirituality and redemption, away from the vices and constraints of the old way, in a way America still clings onto that old mentality despite the under lying hypocrisy. Eastwood’s Unforgiven is a modernist western that attempts to tear apart the romanticised images of the western frontier, a symbol of white dominance over the savage Indians and landscape. America’s beliefs that it was establishing order in the once lawless outback is questioned, in the film it is civilisation that brings along malice and immorality, contrasted against the tranquillity of nature. A core component of westerns is the use of violence to conquer the wicked, traditional films of this genre often have rigid distinctions between the good and bad in order to justify the use of force. However Unforgiven presents the audience was a moral dilemma, the protagonist has flaws whilst the antagonist has moments of sincerity. Instead of sacred violence being used as a means to an end, violence and bloodshed in presented as an integral part of the western fronter and it doesn’t discriminate against the right or the wrong. The concept of America was once noble, however the vices which the pilgrims wished to escape from sound festered within American society. Eastwood’s Unforgiven aims to point out the hypocrisy of America, how equality must be paved by with blood and how violence was used indiscriminately on the ‘righteous’ as well as the ‘evil.’




Eastwood, C. (Director). (1992). The Unforgiven [Motion Picture]. United States: Warner Bros.

Grist, L. (1996). Unforgiven. In Cameron, I. A., & Pye, D. (Eds.), The Book of Westerns (pp.294-301). New York, New York: Continuum.

Redmon, A. (2004). Mechanisms of Violence in Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven and Mystic River. The Journal of American Culture, 27(3), 315-328.