I’ve talked for videos upon videos about the pure narrative artistry of Berserk - the complex enigma
that is Griffith, the lonely, sentimental and arduous path of Guts, the themes associated with
their dynamic and the emotional nuances that take part, all the different characters that
are a part of each of their journeys, and much more. There is so much to extract from Berserk
in terms of writing that it boggles the mind and has inspired mass debate for decades,
so it’s easy to get lost in that. However, I have been doing the full package a disservice by not
talking about the presentation of this story as much as I should have. Just to be crystal clear,
I am an absolute amateur when it comes to talking about art, but I will do my best to express
why and how Miura’s world’s aesthetics are so integrative with the experience for me personally.
I can’t even fake being super technical and knowledgeable about it, but hopefully
I’ll be able to adequately describe what all of this evokes in me and why this art has made me
pause and get lost in thought and imagination too many times to count throughout my readthrough.
Something that I’ve screamed to the heavens about Berserk to anyone that would listen is that to me,
it finds it’s identity through the quiet and reflective beats - the still moments of deep
contemplation and soul amidst the chaos, blood and darkness. The campfire scene
between Sonia and Irvine, Guts looking up at the night sky after facing a torrent of pain,
a very similar spread depicting his utter loneliness and agony after the eclipse, him
looking up at the beauty of Elfhelm and reflecting on a solitude that is now more comforting than it
ever has been, him watching a joyful Casca, wondering how he’s managed to feel something
close to fulfillment and hope again. These are the moments that, through contrast, stick out
to me the most - they help to ground the story, provide pathos and most effectively communicate
the emotional context of the characters at various points. And the art is so deliberately crafted to
accentuate this feel through immersing us in these locations and aesthetics to put us in the proper
mindset to be receptive to these sorts of scenes. Seeing this dark, peaceful forest at night and the
visual of Irvine playing his lute immediately calms me and makes me wonder what must be on
his mind. The dark quiet Guts experiences in contrast to the misery that occurred prior
in multiple instances just really drives home the emotional desolation through providing us with a
physical isolation in a world whose beauty does not care to relent to reflect the state of its
denizens. You can almost hear the gentle hush over the therapeutic, peaceful Elfhelm, as Guts looks
on at the beautiful scenery with a peace that he hasn’t felt.. maybe ever? There are no words to
describe the things I feel when I see Guts quietly standing in solitude, or gazing at the moon. And I
wish I could talk about exactly what it means to see Guts feelings the presence of chitch leaving
him as the flower petals blow away in the wind - palpable, but light and so ephemeral that they
seem to dissolve into the sun the moment they’re blown away. These are masterful story sequences
and moments, but the art is what enhances that to the nth degree. I sit at my computer and try to
come up with things to say to describe how it all comes together on the page and just find myself
unable to articulate how beautifully this art captures the spirit of Berserk. The quiet after
a night of fending off monsters, the serene still beauty of a moonlist forest. It’s soul-stirring.
Too many times I’ve seen scenes bathed in rays of light that have almost made me gasp for how
beautiful they are - accentuated by the artful dialogue, so many of these felt like abstract
paintings plucked out of myths or legends not meant for human eyes. Laugh at me all you like,
but I felt and continue to feel privileged to have seen some of these damn works of art.
And then there’s the character of Griffith. It’s not too hard to describe a person who
is so beautiful that it feels like they were plucked out of some sort of angelic fairytale.
It’s easy to use words like elegant or exquisite to describe his unique form of brilliance. But
it would almost seem impossible to actually present a character that is as otherworldly,
ethereal and beautiful as those in Berserk say he is. How can you possibly present something
so abstract? And yet, somehow Miura was able to do it. He was able to consistently convey things
wordlessly with art that would never work in any other way. He was able to bear his soul to us,
and we may not able to put some of these things into words, but we understand.
And to that effect, one of my favourite things about Berserk is how Miura is able to
so effectively set the tone and atmosphere of a scene through really evocative establishing
illustrations. It’s all well and good to be able to put us in a scene, but the little touches I
describe here are what immerse us and make us feel something before the plot even gets moving.
And while I have been waxing lyrical about the therapeutic and soothing stuff, this can also
be done with exceedingly gothic, horrific or dark subject matter to the same effect.
In that vein, despite this quiet soul and this manner of immersing being the
primary feel I take away from the story, the grand, bizarre, abstract fantastical
monsters and depictions of war are also huge aspects that Miura hangs his hat on.
It’s a strange thing to say, but the fact that a human being came up with Berserk has always
seemed bizarre to me because it’s so rich and spiritual that it seems like a glimpse
into another universe rather than a story. Miura crafted the most unbelievable realizations of
these sorts of landscapes - both nightmarish and beautiful - on a regular basis like it was just
another day at the office. He thought up all sorts of ghoulish, unbelievably fantastical monsters and
put such immense detail into the scary and the bizarre that it boggles the mind that so much
imagination can fit into one person’s head. But then it always comes back to the ground level, it
always returns to the intimate, and I can think of no better example than the awakening of Ganishka,
where we’re shown this immense, monstrous creature for all angles - and then we zoom
out to see a regular civilian just watching on from a large distance. And after the epic battle,
what stands out just as much to me are the bits of respite that we spend with Guts.
Miura always presents the insane, but he also always gives it reaction and
context and humanity, and he always allows the dust to settle lyrically.
And so forgive me for repeating myself, but with this, things come full circle to illustrate my
original point - that the thing that always struck me about Berserk and the feeling I
need to stress most is how serene it is. In a story full of so much carnage, death, tragedy,
war and monsters, the moments that speak the loudest are the ones of contemplative quiet,
and the art was always there to make those moments transcend simple storytelling. And
that richness imbues every other detail to make this such a living, breathing world that feels as
genuine and entrancing as it is fantastical. First time round, I just so vividly remember being blown
away by everything. The scale of the storytelling, the prose, the badassery and the crazy monsters
and transformations that appealed to the kid in me.. the heart and soul, the flesh and
blood characters. I adore absolutely everything about the story, but to me the spirit of Berserk
is very much encapsulated in those moments of respite, silence and reflection. In those moments
it feels like Miura is speaking directly to us, pouring himself into this work. And they wouldn’t
be what they are without these illustrations that he uses to wordlessly communicate with us.
Berserk’s Art is Miura’s Language, and it is exceptionally universal. Many thanks for watching.