In a world poisoned with sensationalism and hype, this little masterpiece entered my life quietly and without fanfare. I did not know of it, so I did not seek it. But it found me – and at a dark time when I needed solace. It renewed my wounded belief in the transformative power of art. It reminded me that a thinker/writer can touch people deeply and awaken and comfort them.
It is called THE GRAVE OF THE FIREFLIES and it is a Japanese animated film. The title alone is steeped in the mysterious inscrutability of the Orient. One immediately realizes that fireflies don’t get buried, so what could this mean? But to the sensitive, caring four year old girl, who found their dead bodies in the morning, it made complete sense to give them a respectful funeral.