I know what you’re thinking: “what form of mental illness is this man projecting onto his reviews this time?” For all two of you who read my blog, you may have noticed my tendency to deconstruct films that tackle more serious subjects, often ones that are of the psychologically damaging variety. I am typically a more cheerful, optimistic person, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t get some enjoyment from films that cannonball your gut with deep feelings of melancholy that often leave me feeling ‘bizarre’ for quite some time. This is not any sort of reflection of my own feelings (or I certainly hope it’s not a case of buried psychological issues manifesting.)
I was inspired to write this after discussing the film, Grave of the Fireflies with a co-worker. When mentioning how much I loved the film, I was met with a confused reaction. Casual moviegoers, even the ones who look further for more introspective films, don’t often like to watch movies with depressing subject matter. To me, film is a medium that allows an infinite number of people to express their thought and feelings in ways that could not possibly be put to paper. Films are more than a form of mindless entertainment; this is not exactly new information for other lifeless film buffs, but there is definitely a disconnect with the average viewer.
To those who decided to take some time for a read, I wanted to highlight some of my favorite films that take your emotions on the chaotic ride that is our subconscious, ones that will leave you questioning your feelings and, in a similar case to myself, may change your outlook on certain things altogether. Get ready for some hard-hitting depression…yaaaaay.
Grave of the Fireflies (1988)
Obviously, I have to start with the film that inspired this article. I have previously written a full review of this film from about a year back, but that won’t stop me from pouring my heart out about it again. From the infamous Japanese animation company, Studio Ghibli, Grave of the Fireflies is a story set during World War II. While their father is off at war and their mother is in the hospital suffering from the impact of a napalm bomb, two young siblings are left in the care of their cantankerous aunt. Having enough of her strict, cold attitude, the brother and sister decide to take to the streets on their own. They soon learn that this life won’t be as easy as they would’ve expected.
Ghibli has often had a reputation for being the ‘Disney of Japan’, and that’s for good reason: their films have cemented themselves into the mainstay of traditional animation. The similarities also come from how often they portray tragedy in such a family-friendly way. ‘Fireflies’ isn’t something I would call “family-friendly.” Never have I seen a universal film tackle such a disturbing issue, with children as main characters, no less.
Director, Isao Takahata insists that this film is not an anti-war piece, but with visual we get, I simply cannot understand his words. We see the war through the eyes of innocence, ones that will come across a dead body on the beach and struggle to make sense of it all. The scene where the two children walk in on their mother, wrapped in bandages provides a stark image of the horror of any war. It doesn’t simply come down to imagery either. We watch these children struggle to survive, with the sister becoming progressively sicker and the brother becoming malnourished. Clearly, Takahata’s intent was to make us feel every grueling step that the children take; nothing grips the soul more than watching children suffer.
One of my biggest hurdles here is trying to convince you to watch these films with the promise that something positive will be gained, but here I go anyway. Grave of the Fireflies pushes this stereotype that animation will always remain a medium for children, and children alone. It teaches everyone that it’s important to cherish the time we have, remembering the good in the more troubling times. There are plenty of beautiful moments of the kids simply observing the nature of the world around them. It’s something that the studio has pushed: this idea of nature over industrialism. If you’re left in tears at several moments, it’s done its job of making you question the state of the world. The only Ghibli film to end on such a melancholy film, its final moments left me shaken.
You can read my full review of the film here: https://conorjohnson1.wordpress.com/2021/07/26/film-lookback-grave-of-the-fireflies-1988/
Magnolia (1999)
I’ve only more recently delved into the works of Paul Thomas Anderson. Outside of watching There Will Be Blood through a constant recommendation from my dad, I’ve been gradually knocking out this iconic director’s library. Anderson is somewhat of a chameleon in terms of his style, but Comedy tends to be his go-to. When I bought Magnolia, I was expecting this same blend of straightforward comedy with tense drama, but what I got, was a depressing, multifaceted melodrama that isn’t afraid to walk down some of the darkest paths. This cracked my top ten films of all time in a single viewing, and I still think about it weekly.
Multiple stories interconnect through the most dire of circumstances in this film. One man, old in age, is slowly dying, looked after by his nurse, he begins to reflect on his destructive life after his first wife had passed away and wants to reconnect with his son, who is a womanizing entrepreneur that helps single men manipulate women. On the other side of this story, a game show presenter finds out he has cancer and tries to reconnect with his drug-addicted, nymphomaniac daughter, but she absolutely detests him for mysterious reasons. During all of this an enthusiastic, kind-hearted cop begins to fall for said daughter, trying to create a relationship. Other stories contribute to this tale of woe, such as a guilty trophy wife who finally admits her real love for her dying husband, and a former game show winner trying to find love in a world that has forgotten him.
There’s so much going on within the first few minutes. We immediately start on a man dying. Without any knowledge of who this man is or what his personality is, it taps in on our first instincts and makes us sympathize. This becomes a running theme, allowing to learn the more sinister sides of these people as time goes on. It’s written in a way that feels hopeless, with every character being stuck in a whirlwind of negativity. For every moment of exciting energy that Tom Cruise brings to his role, there’s a sense of falsehood to everything he does. Every character has that false face on them.
You’ll find yourself clinging to specific characters. Perhaps you can see yourself in them, or know someone who has suffered similarly. I gravitated towards the young child who is given high expectations placed upon him. While my upbringing was never met with the same high standards, there was this sense that I had to live up to this non-existent goal. Beating yourself up about not reaching a certain limit or putting yourself through mental pain is something most will relate to, and this film doesn’t hold back how traumatizing this can be.
It’s quite difficult to capture every little facet in this branched storyline. All of these mini-stories are connected through a fine line that constantly diverges. The message is clear that we are all connected through love, unconditional or not. It sounds overly cliche, but love is a hard thing to explain and justify. Magnolia turns a spotlight on how difficult it can be to put aside disdain for others in favor of simply moving on. Finding any sort of connection with someone else when the trauma of your past still festering in you can make things difficult. Anderson doesn’t tell us to completely forget that trauma, but to embrace it and allow yourself the power to forgive.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
What’s this? Another opportunity to talk about my favorite screenwriter and biggest inspiration, Charlie Kaufman? Don’t mind if I do. Kaufman’s habit of putting himself, or at least, the embodiment of his own anxieties, into the films he writes often leads to some harsher self-reflection than your average self-inserts. I’ve talked about most of his films already, but it’s this film that I’ve been trying to wrap my head around finding a way to talk about it.
Centering itself around a depressed, older non-socialite, Joel, we watch as he begins a relationship with an oddball in the form of Clementine. Fast-forward some time after, Joel is now sick and tired of his miserable, argumentative relationship and decides to go forward with a bizarre process that has his specific memories of her being erased. The film then progressively leads us on the path of this chaotic romance and why exactly it all fell apart. During this time, the scientists that are erasing his memories suffer through their own romantic strife.
When it comes to Romance films, I tend to gear myself towards ones like this. It doesn’t exactly paint an optimistic picture of true love. The film is cleverly written in a way that shows us instant sparks from our two leads, only to suddenly take a heel-turn into an irreversibly broken relationship. The surrealist dive into Joel’s memories perfectly bring us through the pattern of such romances. We see the benefits of two outcasts finding love in each other, but then we see these same quirks smother both of them to the point of complete vitriol.
Kaufman also makes it clear how unbiased the entire thing is. Neither character is given a free pass; they’re both at fault for the mistakes they make. We are elegantly placed in Joel’s mind and experience the same feelings of longing that he does. The regret over the choice to forget her, you root for them to stay together, but as the film progresses, we become content with them staying apart. Even the side story that happens alongside the main event has its own moral quandaries. These are people that are willing to erase someone else’s past, while also dealing with their own romantic issues.
I interpreted the message as one of control; it’s not something that can be controlled. People often have this idyllic view on companionship and their life in general. Often, we try to take control of our fates, damaging our relationships in the process. Kaufman is portraying a message of stepping away and simply allowing everything to take its natural cause. With how the final act plays out, it leaves so much up to interpretation. Going down a path that has previously ended in failure leaves us cautious, but we’re encouraged to see for ourselves without that prior judgement.
The Wrestler (2008)
I can’t very well do an article about depressing films without talking about the master of sadness, Darren Aronofsky. I’ve spoken about Requiem for a Dream previously, and Black Swan is far too iconic, so I decided to look at the more forgotten of his trilogy of sadness: The Wrestler. As someone who isn’t even remotely into wrestling or any other kind of variation of it, there wasn’t much compelling me to seek this film out. I bought this at random a couple years back and I was enamored by it. All the films I have talked about so far have focused on sympathetic characters, this one doesn’t have that luxury.
In a big return for Mickey Rourke, he plays and aged wrestler who is given the unfortunate news that if he continues to wrestle, his heart will give out. Randy is a man that has dedicated most of his life to the art of pro wrestling, making terrible life decisions in the process. Excess drinking, drug abuse, spending most nights in strip clubs and neglecting his daughter in her adult life, Randy leads a depressing life. With his one passion in life come to an end, he starts to feel remorse for the destruction he’s caused. Trying to cut out his demons, trying to make amends with his daughter and spending more time with a stripper who he’s developed a genuine love for, things start to look more upwards…but we must remind ourselves that Aronofsky isn’t known for his happy endings.
There’s a fine line between sympathy and apathy. When your main character is portrayed as being a seemingly irredeemable person, it’s hard to feel sympathetic for his failing health. Aronofsky isn’t asking us to relate to Randy, but to instead notice the possibility of redemption. It’s clear that Randy is a depressed person. The choices he has made have brought him no joy in life. His love of wrestling is only there to mask his hatred for life. There’s this dismissive attitude towards escapism. It’s certainly okay to want to escape from the harshness of reality from time to time, but not at the expense of facing responsibility.
Randy is such a deplorable human being. It takes a good while for him to finally do something good that when it does happen, you end up feeling much more uplifted. It’s depressing in the sense of watching some ruin their lives in real time. Imagine running into someone you disliked in your younger years, only to see them fall into addiction, you don’t feel hatred, you simply pity them and want to get yourself out of that vicinity. Any other film, and you’d probably enjoy seeing this character rip their life apart, but Aronofsky manages to humanize him.
This might be the most difficult film for me to recommend to just anybody. It’s more grounded than Aronofsky’s other works, not relying on surrealist imagery, but it’s hard to find even the slightest bit of joy. The importance that comes from this film is one of learning. Randy isn’t supposed to be redeemable, but the audience watching might find some solace in themselves. I’m not implying that you should use films as a form of therapy, but if you were to look at this film as such, then it might give you some perspective on your own faults. Escapism should never be a solution to your problems, it certainly helps level much of the stress, but it can never be an excuse to commit terrible acts.
This film won’t give the type of sadness that leaves you on the verge of tears, but instead, an empty, hopeless feeling. To me, that is far more imapctful.
Fish Tank (2009)
I debated for a good while whether I was going to include this one. It has this layer of optimism that only grows and grows as the film goes on. But then, I remembered the final act. This is definitely the most obscure film on my list. It was a random watch for me on a Sunday morning, coming across it on Netflix and in need of something more independent. Fish Tank is one of those independent British films that captures such a specific part of Britain that I could see it being etched into the minds of Brits the same way something like This is England has, but most don’t even know this exists. Allow me to enlighten you.
Centered around a teenage girl living in a council flat, she often isolates herself from her peers. Mia dreams of becoming a professional dancer, mainly to escape from her abusive household. Her single mother constantly berates her and her younger sister, and the other kid around her hurl abuse as well. Mia has grown aggressive as a result, but this soon changes when her mum enters a relationship with the kindly Conor (nice name.) Mia, at first, despises Conor for his unusually positive attitude, but this soon turns into a schoolgirl crush. Conor is the only person in her life that encourages her to pursue her dreams, and understands what she’s going through. Seems to be far more positive than the other films I’ve talked about, right?
As is the case for most teen-focused films, Fish Tank is a coming-of-age tale. Something of a soft spot for me is the ‘dreamer’ film. I often try to push for my passion, even when I’m stuck in a terrible situation, so there may have been a slight bias that influenced me to put it on the list. I don’t think I’m alone in this, as I’ve always believed that everyone has passion in them, regardless of whatever it may be. So with such an optimistic viewpoint, there obvious has to be a depressing twist.
Perhaps it’s the more local connection (not that I’ve ever lived in a council estate, or in an abusive household), but I’ve been surrounded by people in similar situations. Mia is alone, to the point where not even her own mother, her only parental figure, seems to care about her. You understand entirely why she struggles to make connections with anyone. She lives in an unkind world, so to see her struggle with the fact that someone is effortlessly treating her with complete kindness is very believable. She turns this confusion into what she thinks is romantic love, gravely misinterpreting Conor’s behavior. Many a social outcast can relate to this confusion.
To get quite candid here, having gone through my teen years being bullied and abused almost daily by fellow schoolkids, I can completely relate to that apprehension when others try to show me kindness. It took me quite some time to learn to trust people, outside of my family, when they pay me compliments. Getting past that psychological issue is a tough thing to overcome, and I’ve often misinterpreted situations in a similar vain to Mia, though, not to that extreme.
I think the point of the film is to encourage the idea of finding happiness in oneself. What the world does to you does not define the person you will be. Sometimes using others as a form of self-love can often backfire, as is extremely evident in the final act. I can’t say much on it without giving away massive spoilers, but I will say that it left me feeling cold and shaken for quite a while after. The film does an excellent job at making you feel that same sense of trust that the main character has, only to have it ripped away. It’s not a film that is entirely unique, and nowhere near as melancholy as the other films I’ve mentioned, but it is something worth looking for.
(I forgot Michael Fassbender’s character was named Conor before I wrote this article. I promise.)
Melancholia (2011)
I can’t think of a more perfect film to end on than one that is literally called ‘Melancholia.’ Lars von Trier is a director that his dipped his toe into the sadness of the world more than a few times. I previously reviewed Dancer in the Dark, which is far more depressing than this, but Melancholia still has an important place in the theme of today’s article. Regardless of what I think of Trier as a person and his desire to be more artistic than he has any ability to be, I’m not going to deny the excellence in some of his work. With a film that is named after the feeling I’ve described for the last five films, it has to be the most depressing, right?
Focusing on a newlywed bride, Justine, the film starts on the literal day of her wedding. As happy as the newlywed couple appear to be, you can tell there is something off about Justine’s behavior from the start. As the film progresses, we learn of Justine’s family, with her divorced parent, her mother of which is greatly opposed to marriage and encourages her daughter to divorce immediately, and her sister who is in a committed marriage herself, but spends more time worrying about the mental state of Justine. As the wedding plays out, Justine becomes more cold and distant towards her husband, falling into a deep depression that sees the two splitting before the night is even over. Now living with her sister and brother-in-law, who despises Justine, she becomes subject to strange behavior that may be a little more than simple depression.
There is a mystical element to this film. Trier could’ve very easily made this a simple story of depression overcoming a person, but there’s also this running story of Justine believing that the world will end with the passing of a planet. It causes her to become even more depressed. Even aside from this, we are subject to different forms of depression. Justine’s is given the most focus, implying that her’s is more inherent than simply brought on in that moment. We get the implication that she has had spells like this before, and she struggles to connect with anyone because of this. In this, we see Justine embrace the sadness, gradually going through the stage of depression in a much more subtle way. By the end, she’s clearly in the stage of acceptance.
More subtly, the characters around her are processing their own feelings in different ways. Justine’s sister, Claire, is in a constant state of panic about the possibility that the world is ending, and looks towards her astrology husband for reaffirmation. Said husband is in complete denial, believing that scientific evidence is enough to make everyone at ease. It’s due to this denial that he clashes with Justine, believing her to be a complete burden. Justine’s mother is stuck in a state of constant misery. She chooses to believe that marriage is a guaranteed failure for anyone, due to it not working out for her. This selfishness is often common with depression, this need to take others down to your level.
This one might be a little too “artsy” for the average moviegoer, but when you look at the entire film with the melancholy that it advertises, it’s rather straightforward. As overdone as the message is, it teaches us that sadness and depression is simply part of life and that it’s important to have it be part of us. Depression teaches us our limits, how far we can be pushed to a breaking point, but from it, we learn. Finding solace in the happiness of others can quite commonly be a suitable cure, if only a temporary one. I can’t say that that feeling of sadness will be as constant with this film, you’ll more than likely spend most of your time trying to figure out what’s going on, but by the end, it should all become apparent.
More Sadness…
I could sit here listing off a plethora of depressing, gut-wrenching films all day, but there’s far too many to list. I tried to stay away from films I’ve done full reviews of, with the exception of Grave of the Fireflies, at the risk of spoiling a good chunk of each film (also to promote said reviews a bit more.) The films I picked were chosen with the hindsight that none would be too soul-shattering, but also, teach the importance of portraying touchier subjects in this art form. Film is art and not just an escapism.
I encourage you to seek all of these films out, but I insist you don’t watch them all back-to-back. Even just writing and reminiscing about them has left me in a melancholy state. If you want some other slight recommendations that I’ve already talked about: I, Daniel Blake is a grueling commentary and criticism on the state of modern England that the Tory government has left us in, Requiem for a Dream is an unapologetic view of drug culture and how society disregards those who don’t live up to a specific standard and Dancer in the Dark breaks down this rose-tinted illusion that Western media has created for immigrants who come looking for better lives. It’s all a bit depressing, really.
I, Daniel Blake: https://conorjohnson1.wordpress.com/2020/07/27/film-lookback-i-daniel-blake-2016/
Requiem for a Dream: https://conorjohnson1.wordpress.com/2021/04/19/film-lookback-requiem-for-a-dream-2000/
Dancer in the Dark: https://conorjohnson1.wordpress.com/2022/01/17/film-lookback-dancer-in-the-dark-2000/
Side note: Sorry, Sorry We Missed You, I missed you. (It barely missed the list, sorry.)
Written by Conor (Fassbender) Johnson.