Due to some unfortunate scheduling conflicts, I was unable to hit up any wild beach parties this spring break. I was forced to trade a week of hedonism and bikini-ogling for one of sequestered paper-writing, and was not at all happy about it. But determined to not let the break be a complete bust, I did the next best thing: sat alone in my room and watched a few dozen movies, most of them gruesome, disturbing, and/or tragic enough to mirror my state of mind. One film in particular was remarkable enough to cut through my haze of beach-deprived self pity and leave a profound impression: Grave of the Fireflies, a 1998 anime film by Japan’s legendary Studio Ghibli.
To those only familiar with Studio Ghibli’s more famous work such as the charming My Neighbor Totoro, Grave of the Fireflies will be especially jarring. There is no magic in this world, and precious little whimsy; the distinctive Studio Ghibli style of animation is present, and as beautiful as ever, but here it portrays corpses and burning homes rather than lovable woodland critters. The film is set in 1945 Japan, and follows two children made orphans by World War II: Seita, 14, and his 4-year-old sister Setsuko. Fire bombs dropped by American planes have taken everything from them but each other, and the movie chronicles their efforts to survive. Food is scarce, and humanity scarcer. There is no moralizing in Grave of the Fireflies, no demonization or pandering: there is simply a big brother trying to keep his little sister from starvation. I won’t spoil the plot for you, and you should watch it at your earliest possible convenience—twice, if you can handle the emotional strain. Long story short, it is an unflinching, earnest, and artful take on the heartbreaking realities of war. Which got me thinking, 24 years after its release: what on earth has happened to war movies?
In the late 20th century, thanks to masterful epics such 1978’s The Deer Hunter and 1979’s Apocalypse Now, it seemed as though mass-market pop culture finally “got” war. Glorification, ignorance, and propaganda appeared to be overwhelmed by the awful images that people were seeing on TV and in the cinema; Vietnam would not be denied. Inspired by gut-wrenching tragedies such as the Mai Lai massacre, films like Apocalypse Now showed the public exactly how demented the battlefield could be. Cut to 2012, with Act of Valor on big screens everywhere and Call of Duty rapidly becoming the most successful entertainment franchise of all time, and you can understand why I wonder what is happening to war’s portrayal in modern media.
Grave of the Fireflies and Apocalypse Now showed malnourished toddlers and heads on stakes; Call of Duty shows badass special ops troopers shooting terrorists and riding snowmobiles. Despite the best efforts of great films such as 2008’s The Hurt Locker and the 2007 documentary Taxi to the Dark Side, war is becoming sexy all over again. Meanwhile Act of Valor, a recently released film using footage of real Navy SEALs, makes war look almost as cool as Call of Duty.(I would be less bothered if Call of Duty were instead titled something like F**k Yeah Guns Are Awesome, but that level of honesty might hurt sales.) These new action extravaganzas are not without moments of truth and sorrow; in Act of Valor, one Marine is killed and leaves his infant child fatherless. But in their trailers, certainly, these movies and games aim to make war seem as fun as they possibly can. While Call of Duty does feature sequences depicting the horrors of nuclear war, and has its fair share of reverence for the sacrifices that soldiers make, the game’s most recent trailer blares AC/DC’s timeless line: “I shoot to thrill, and I’m ready to kill.” I don’t mean to demonize Call of Duty, or come off as shrieky—irresponsible or not, the game is a lot of fun. But I am concerned that less bombastic depictions of war, as found in Grave of the Fireflies, are being drowned out.
I have no easy explanation for this pendulum swing back towards war-as-entertainment. One would think that Iraq and Afghanistan have been terrible enough to steer us in a more level-headed direction. I hope that films such as Grave of the Fireflies make a resurgence; in the meanwhile, millions of young boys with PS3s nationwide are getting the impression that war is a James Bondian roller coaster ride. And yes, young boys will always play with guns; I certainly did, and make no apologies for doing so. But as Call of Duty and its ilk come to dominate the market, I fear that our popular culture may be losing its grasp on war’s hard realities.