after a quick catch-up with naps (fab jap..) and discussing life's ups and downs, mothers and fathers, and brothers (her case) and unfortunate hook-ups (my case)...she mentions a film she watched. my eyes light up. i sense it could be a cracker. a real cracker. the cracker, the likes of which haven't been seen in a while. i sense tears. i sense pain. i sense greatness. i will see it tomorrow. but here is a sneak preview...
The year is 1945. The Second World War is ravaging countries across the world. With each passing moment, countless lives are lost. Advancing U.S. forces turn the tide of battle against Japan. Japan's defense perimeter is undermined as their operational center is taken over. In March, 1945, American B-29 bomber planes begin blanketing the concentrated civilian population of major Japanese cities with incendiary bombs... (Described by a survivor, the bombs fell, "like rain," from the sky. They were the most destructive air attacks, in the history of the world, prior to the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.)
Perhaps one of the most mature and sobering films ever created, "Grave of the Fireflies" is written and directed by renowned filmmaker, Takahata Isao. The story is based on the award-winning semi-autobiography, "Hotaru no Haka," by Nosaka Akiyuki. In the port town of Kobe, a boy and his little sister, put in a helpless situation by forces beyond their control, have to survive in a selfish world. They are forced to grow up overnight while desperately clinging to their innocence.
