Watership Down was immensely controversial on release, in large part due to rating agencies failing to comprehend that an adventure film with talking animals might not be intended for young children - in what it later acknowledged as its most criticized move ever, the BBFC gave the film a 'U', equivalent to the American G-rating. While the graphic violence in several scenes garnered much attention, I think the more notable frequent source of childhood trauma, which also happens to be the reason I love the film so much, is its acknowledgement that all its characters are going to die. This is not a spoiler, as I am speaking less of dramatic irony than the reality that all living things die eventually. Even if they survive the events of the film, which is by no means assured due to the film's palpable stakes, they will eventually die of old age or disease. And so, by extension, will the audience.
I do not mean to portray Watership Down as a nihilistic screed - quite the opposite. The film attempts to help the viewer find meaning in their own mortality. The story provides the characters' lives with a sense of purpose even as it emphasizes their transience. But many parents like to pretend when dealing with young children that their lives, and the lives of their family members, will go on forever. Children aren't stupid and see through this screen, even if they play along with the act, but the belief that they can't handle such subject matter makes the acknowledgement of the inevitability of death in a film marketed to younger audiences controversial. This is unfortunate, as such an examination of the hard realities of life and death might alleviate some children's anxiety surrounding the subject.
As a vessel to examine this central subject, and to touch on many others including environmentalism, totalitarianism, and freedom, Richard Adams's novel, and by extension Martin Rosen's film, tells an engaging story about a party of likeable rabbits, voiced by some of the top English actors of the time, journeying in search of a new home. Even ignoring the allegorical elements, Oscar-worthy soundtrack, and star-studded cast, this tale is uncommonly well-told. Even the minor characters have an identifiable personality, in part due to the clever adaptation of the brilliant source material, in part due to the efforts of the voice actors, and in part due to the efforts of the animators. The antagonistic rabbit-despot General Woundwort looks menacing despite being from a breed of animal we routinely allow children to hold at a petting zoo or eat in a stew for lunch. And both the dialogue and the animation acknowledge that the characters are animals rather than people with tails. Their movements are distinctly leporine, and they don't understand the human world in the same way animals in most animated movies do. Hence the focus on death - the life of a rabbit, a short-lived creature near the bottom of the food chain, is so fragile and precarious that, if endowed with human intelligence, they would have an extremely acute sense of mortality.
A 1987 study in The Journal of Transpersonal Psychology found that watching Akira Kurosawa's 1952 film Ikiru might alleviate a person's anxiety about death. While Watership Down was not mentioned in the study, I suspect watching it could have a similar effect. The film's bittersweet lessons about the realities of life and death are not entirely dissimilar from those depicted in Kurosawa's masterwork, although the films differ heavily in other ways. Roger Ebert suggested that Ikiru was one of the few films that might inspire someone to change how they live their life. I'm not sure that Watership Down quite accomplishes that feat, but it might make someone reconsider their view of death.
I do not mean to portray Watership Down as a nihilistic screed - quite the opposite. The film attempts to help the viewer find meaning in their own mortality. The story provides the characters' lives with a sense of purpose even as it emphasizes their transience. But many parents like to pretend when dealing with young children that their lives, and the lives of their family members, will go on forever. Children aren't stupid and see through this screen, even if they play along with the act, but the belief that they can't handle such subject matter makes the acknowledgement of the inevitability of death in a film marketed to younger audiences controversial. This is unfortunate, as such an examination of the hard realities of life and death might alleviate some children's anxiety surrounding the subject.
As a vessel to examine this central subject, and to touch on many others including environmentalism, totalitarianism, and freedom, Richard Adams's novel, and by extension Martin Rosen's film, tells an engaging story about a party of likeable rabbits, voiced by some of the top English actors of the time, journeying in search of a new home. Even ignoring the allegorical elements, Oscar-worthy soundtrack, and star-studded cast, this tale is uncommonly well-told. Even the minor characters have an identifiable personality, in part due to the clever adaptation of the brilliant source material, in part due to the efforts of the voice actors, and in part due to the efforts of the animators. The antagonistic rabbit-despot General Woundwort looks menacing despite being from a breed of animal we routinely allow children to hold at a petting zoo or eat in a stew for lunch. And both the dialogue and the animation acknowledge that the characters are animals rather than people with tails. Their movements are distinctly leporine, and they don't understand the human world in the same way animals in most animated movies do. Hence the focus on death - the life of a rabbit, a short-lived creature near the bottom of the food chain, is so fragile and precarious that, if endowed with human intelligence, they would have an extremely acute sense of mortality.
A 1987 study in The Journal of Transpersonal Psychology found that watching Akira Kurosawa's 1952 film Ikiru might alleviate a person's anxiety about death. While Watership Down was not mentioned in the study, I suspect watching it could have a similar effect. The film's bittersweet lessons about the realities of life and death are not entirely dissimilar from those depicted in Kurosawa's masterwork, although the films differ heavily in other ways. Roger Ebert suggested that Ikiru was one of the few films that might inspire someone to change how they live their life. I'm not sure that Watership Down quite accomplishes that feat, but it might make someone reconsider their view of death.
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