Berserk: An In-Depth Analysis (Griffith)
“It seems to me that everyone stakes their lives on a lost cause. Looking at them all from up here I can almost see their hopes and dreams flickering in each little light […] and to ensure that those weaker flames don’t go out, each man casts his own into the strongest fire of them all, a raging fire. That’s Griffith.”
Guts, Season 1, Episode 14
No conversation about Guts is complete without discussing the man who defined and defiled everything so much in his life: Griffith. A sweeping tidal wave of a man in terms of sheer drive, charisma and vision, Griffith is above all else a man with a dream and the will to see it at all costs.
Both men are diametrically opposed in virtually everything, from color scheme, physique, their fighting styles and weapon of choice, their place in the grand scheme of things, the emotions they illicit from others, how they view their comrades and ultimately what they stake their lives on.
The last part is of particular importance when discussing the two men. Literature’s greatest rivals may share many traits, motifs and even desire the same things but their entire conflict can be traced to one fundamental difference. In Star Wars for example, the main rift between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader is in their life’s most crucial moments both men staked their lives on different things: Vader chose the Dark Side, Luke chose the Force. Batman and Joker, regardless of their many similarities, have one fundamental difference: Joker stares at the chaos around him and accepts it while Batman takes up arms against it. Similarly, if we examine Berserk and peel away the layers, we see a simple dichotomy: Guts stands for selflessness and self-sacrifice while Griffith epitomizes selfishness.
Griffith: If I let myself feel regret or remorse it would all slip away.
Ubik: Now you see the truth of who you are.
Griffith: This must be an illusion.
Ubik: No illusion. We are merely holding a mirror to your own consciousness.
Berserk, Season 1, Episode 24
When discussing Casca’s name, I mentioned how she shared her name with the character Casca from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. If anything, Griffith is the manga version of a Shakespearean tragic hero, possessing a seemingly divine gift of charm, wit, beauty and leadership that is marred by an untamed ego, selfishness and megalomania. After all, Miura has claimed that Macbeth is one of his inspirations for Berserk. Like many of the great conquerors and tyrants of history like Caesar, Napolean and even Hitler, Griffith fits into the mold of a classic example of a sociopath and even that of a psychopath.
The telltale signs of a sociopath is that he or she is charming and charismatic (easily one of his most disarming quality), extremely manipulative by tapping into a person’s pity, respect or even fear to his or her own advantage (everything about his persona is built around getting people to do what he wants), is highly insightful about what makes people tick (he rattles on about why Guts fights despite having never spoken to him before and effortlessly deduced that the King was in love with his own daughter), has trouble feeling remorse or empathy (one of his main character arcs is his growing lack of regard for morality culminating with his transformation into the demonic Femto), is delusional especially in his or her self-perception (Guts markedly calls his dream of becoming a king a delusion), is rarely anxious in tense situations (while his stolid demeanor is a sign of his great leadership ability it may be a symptom of his sociopathic tendencies), is highly intelligent (his war strategies and political machinations), can be violent and sadistic (his actions during the Eclipse and the fact that his dream is quite literally soaked in the blood of friends and foes alike), is surrounded by followers instead of friends and often has virtually no friends (Griffith didn’t consider anyone an equal i.e. a friend, in the Falcons despite all their sacrifices for his dream), has little to no relatives (he has failed to mention a single relative through 38 volumes so far), is prone to playing the victim (he utterly ruins Guts’ life because he left the Falcons to live independently, something Griffith considered a betrayal), and is highly needy (his dynamic with Guts is arguably rooted in this). Above all, sociopaths are ruthlessly selfish with an inability to handle not having what they want, arguably Griffith’s most defining trait.
Many of these traits are also common when it comes to psychopaths. Psychopaths are controlling and master manipulators, are incapable of remorse, have an inflated ego, unrealistic dreams, and are often charming and highly intelligent. The difference however is that while sociopaths have trouble empathizing and feeling remorse over their actions, psychopaths are virtually devoid of any conscience.
Similarly, psychopaths like sociopaths engage in shallow, meaningless relationships. The one salient aspect of Griffith sexual encounters is that how disconnected he is. Gennon essentially raped him, he treated Charlotte as a means to blow off steam and his rape of Casca was a vindictive act of reasserting dominance. There is an emotional disconnect in all these instances, with not even a shred of tenderness or devotion.
Another sign of a psychopath is that he or she has trouble with silence and introspection, avoiding them altogether by constantly bombarding themselves with new stimuli. When they are forced to introspect, it is at times of great emotional distress and anxiety. Coupled with their impaired emotional growth, psychopaths are in fact highly emotional though they are able to mask this well. When in emotional distress, sociopaths and psychopaths are prone to behaving recklessly and lashing out. This is especially true for Griffith whose inner monologue is only shown during times where he’s under emotional turmoil and feeling out of control, rendering him volatile and impetuous (I will discuss this in greater detail later).
The first time we see Griffith forced into introspection is when he finds the body of a child soldier who had died during one of the Falcons’ battles. Visibly shaken, he sleeps with Lord Gennon so that the baron’s riches can fund more of his campaigns without anymore needless bloodshed. When confronted by Casca, he paints the whole situation as detached, pragmatism on his part, “I did the math, fight ten battles or sleep with an old man, which is more risky?” He proceeds to rationalize the child’s death by saying that all his soldiers died in his cause out of their own volition and as such he isn’t responsible for their demise. Instead, what he is responsible for is reaching his dream so that the death of his men is not in vain. The greatest tribute he can offer, thus, is to continue his meteoric rise.
Notice that if one considers Griffith’s selfishness then the above scene gains another wrinkle. As man becoming increasingly more psychopathic, it is in his best interest to not be forced to in a situation where he might have to self-reflect again i.e. witness another soldier squandered in a meaningless war. As such, examining his actions through the lens of selfishness, one could argue that he slept with Gennon not for soldiers’ well-being but his own emotional well-being. That is, the less wars the Falcons fight the less dead soldiers Griffith has to think about. Of course, I am not implying that this is the only reason he did this but merely that this is a factor.
The second time Griffith is shown introspecting is during his second duel with Guts. Angry, frustrated and more hurt than he cares to admit at the prospect of Guts leaving his side, he opts to make him stay by force or even death. Like three years prior, he challenges Guts to a duel but is nowhere near as confident as he was the first time. Unlike the morning after sleeping with Gennon, this is the first we directly see Griffith’s inner monologue. As had been suggested time and again, his thoughts and emotions are tumultuous and unhinged.
It doesn’t help that by now his ego has grown cumbersomely large making his conscience dwindle that much more. As he plans his attack he realizes it will severely wound Guts. In fact, a slightest miscalculation would prove fatal. It gives him pause. But he decides to go through with it. If Guts was going to leave then he was not worth sparring in the first place. It is the kind of cold, remorseless logic Griffith had become more accustomed to. From plotting assassinations, to blackmailing politicians by kidnapping their children, to showing little remorse when a child is caught in the crossfire of his assassination plot, Griffith grew more coldblooded with each passing volume. Mere days earlier he had even asked Guts if he thought he was a dreadful person. It was another moment of vulnerability for Griffith, the same moral dilemma creeping into his mind as the day he found the child soldier’s corpse. The true extent to which his dream was “soaked in blood” had once again shaken him, rendering him vulnerable. And as a consistent theme in the manga, if Griffith is vulnerable he will act rashly.
What happens next is a complete subversion of their initial encounter. Griffith’s inner monologue is disparate, dripping with emotion. Guts’ is deliberate and determined. While Griffith is agitated, Guts is calm and “present.” Instead of employing the defensive, counter-attack tactics that favored him so well, Griffith opts for the offensive against an opponent with greater physical strength and the longer weapon. Unsurprisingly, the result is an overwhelmingly one-sided defeat for Griffith.
The third time we see Griffith’s introspection is during his yearlong torture in prison. Flayed, whipped, burnt, skewered, mutilated and ultimately crippled, he is at the nadir of his life. All that keeps him somewhat sane is reflecting on what it was that made him “forget my dream”: Guts. For a man so averse to introspection, Griffith finds himself with no other recourse but to re-evaluate his life up until this point. Once again, it renders him volatile and his immediate reaction is negative i.e. loathing Guts. When the latter finally does come before him, Griffith’s immediate response is to wrap his fingers around Guts’ neck. It is only when Guts tearfully embraces him does Griffith reconsider. This is a true symbol of the complex history between the two men and a sign of Miura’s superb writing, where a year’s worth of rage and hatred melts away in an instant—only to resurface later tenfold.
Just prior to triggering the Eclipse and then during the Eclipse itself, we get the most in-depth look at Griffith’s inner workings. While the two scenes do occur at short intervals from one another, I will discuss them as one since they are a continuation. After his rescue when Wyald exposes the true extent of his injuries to all the Falcons, it finally sinks in for everyone that Griffith’s dream is finished. Again his vulnerabilities lead him to reckless action. He attempts to rape Casca which don’t even register given his pathetic state.
Griffith eventually overhears Casca opting to stay behind with him solely out of pity. When Guts insists on staying, Casca reminds him that he must go if “you truly are a friend to Griffith.” Hearing these words, Griffith snaps. He commandeers a wagon and chases after the apparition of his childhood only to end up crashing into a lake. After a failed suicide attempt, he ends up in possession of his Behelit again. At the same time he witnesses Guts rushing towards him and we get a snapshot of his mind again. Begging Guts to “stay back” Griffith is horrified at the prospect of Guts touching him warning that he will “never forgive you again.”
Guts had already abandoned him once leading to so much mayhem in Griffith’s fortunes. Everything he had wrought was up in flames. The Band of Falcons. His dream. His body. His sanity. His reputation. His ability to inspire confidence and faith in his followers. Every single person he once considered himself above pitied him. Casca, the woman who once worshipped the ground he walked on, stood beside not out of loyalty but pity. And on top of everything else, Guts was on the verge of abandoning him again. He may have forgiven him in the prison, held on to whatever was good and decent in him, but a second betrayal would be too much. In a sense, it was coming face-to-face with his greatest tormentor, the proverbial boogeyman that destroyed everything Griffith stood for. After a lifetime of being “special”, of “watching us all from above” and out of reach for ordinary humans—to then be touched by the one who had destroyed him and dragged him to this, his lowest point—it a final insult that even he knew would be too much to bear. With his addled mind and at his most vulnerable, Griffith knew how volatile he had become and what mayhem he may bring. Shouting “stay away” was perhaps as much a warning as it was a cry for help. To spare Guts the carnage that might come. It was Griffith’s last ditch effort to save the last shreds of his conscience.
In a way, the scene is a repeat of the Guts and Gambino’s last afternoon together. Like Gambino, Griffith is reduced to an invalid, seething in fury and despair as Guts runs towards him. Like with Gambino, Guts is held responsible by Griffith for his misfortunes. Like with Gambino, Guts is trying to alleviate his friend’s pain by vying for his approval i.e. considered an equal. Like Gambinio, Griffith wants nothing to do with Guts, wanting him long gone. Like that afternoon all those years ago, Guts is running towards a man he considers family only to be betrayed and scarred for life.
Lastly, as Femto we see his inner monologue again for a brief second, conveniently at a moment where his new body (i.e. the body of the Demon Fetus) reacts to its parents’ presence. The main take away from this scene is not only that the Demon Fetus might yet play a pivotal role in the manga but also the fact that Griffith retains his all-too human tendency for self-delusion. After all, he had just bragged about how Guts “cannot sway my heart” and yet his heart was swayed quite literally moments later as a shrill ache in his chest. He even saves Casca from the falling rocks suggesting that the Demon Fetus’ thoughts are fused with Griffith’s. In either case, like how he was prior to the Eclipse, Griffith not as much in control of his heart as he would like to believe.
Given the above, The Golden Age arc may very well be the character study of a man who deforms from a sociopath into a psychopath. Interestingly, Farnese echoes many of the same sociopathic tendencies as Griffith hence why she remains one of the most foreboding characters in Guts’ new alliance and a possible retread of Griffith’s path to becoming a psychopath.
“Griffith, you were always looking skyward, focused on it. Rising, climbing, soaring like a hawk flying alone, reaching for the highest point. Always watching us from above, never down here, crawling with the rest of us. Calm, cold, supreme. Letting nothing stand in the path to your victory.”
Guts, Season 1, Episode 22
Virtually every time Griffith has been wounded it has been because of Guts directly or indirectly, an indelible stain on an otherwise implacable military career built on patience, cunning, precision and ruthless pragmatism. I mentioned earlier how Guts’ armor conveys a sense of vulnerability and guardedness and it holds true for Griffith as well, who wears the heaviest, most ornate armor throughout Berserk. It is no surprise then that he is also the most guarded, secretive and enigmatic character in the series. For someone embodying the persona of a driven man and with such a monumental dream, emotional vulnerability is not an option for Griffith. To achieve his goals, he has to appear and be impervious. Yet the more we explore the White Falcon, we realize that his detachedness is not a result of him being in control of his emotions but due to a sociopathic inability to engage with them properly.
It is worth noticing how Griffith’s only battle scar is from his lone defeat to Guts, a precursor for how his body gets ravaged for one whole year. The only other time we see him wounded in battle is when he attempts to rescue Guts from Zodd, incidentally the only time we see Griffith commit a selfless act.
Yet Griffith does not bleed on these occasions. Given how graphic most of the violence in Berserk is, this has to be a deliberate artistic choice on Miura’s part. In his defeat at Guts’ hand, there is a curious lack of blood given the ferocity of Guts’ attack. Covered in his thick winter clothes, Griffith seems shaken but surprisingly unharmed. After all not a single person, least of all Guts, considered the defeat to be anything other than a “small pebble in your path.” It is only when we see Griffith naked (an artistic technique Miura uses frequently to convey vulnerability and exposure) that we understand the true extent of his physical injury—and more importantly his emotional injury.
In fact, where Griffith is concerned, physical pain seems to go hand-in-hand with emotional pain as one does not seem to occur without the other for him. It is a theme that stays constant for Griffith where every bruise or blemish on his person serves as a metaphor for his emotional pain. That is, the more the emotional trauma the more severe the physical duress. In fact, given his impaired emotional maturity, one could go so far as to argue that Griffith can only truly register emotional pain through physical pain.
To fully understand this theme of physical and emotional pain we must consider the five occasions where we do see Griffith bleed.
Chronologically, the first time we see him bleed is in a flashback with Casca. Griffith had found a corpse of a dead child soldier on the battlefield and seemed genuinely distraught over it. He eventually prostituted himself to Gennon to acquire the baron’s financial support for the Falcons. He is an emotional mess the next morning, washing himself in the river repeatedly, no doubt traumatized by the events since he was only a teenager at the time. When Casca questions him we discover that he did so to avoid needless wars i.e. sleep with the rich baron for his money so as to avoid fighting wars where his soldiers will perish. As Casca infers, Griffith is still haunted by the death of the child soldier, distressed by how his dream is “a dream soaked in blood.” He immediately denies this, claiming that his soldiers died out of their own volition and that he feels no remorse.
All is not as it seems however. As he continues feigning indifference Griffith claws into his own arms, tearing his flesh and bleeding profusely. Up until this point, his most enduring characteristics had been his dispassionate nature and unshakeable composure. For the first time ever we see the proverbial chink in his armor: his thoughts and emotions are revealed to be turbulent. More importantly, emotionally vulnerable appears to be alien territory for him and he handles it poorly. From denial of his own remorse, to rationalizing continuing his military campaigns as a tribute to his soldiers’ deaths, to making reckless decisions (sleeping with Gennon traumatized him and was arguably an act of desperation to not having to be traumatized by the death of a child soldier again), to even self-harm—Griffith displays a series of troubling signs in regards to his mental stability and highlights his impaired ability to cope with emotional duress. Self-harm is not only a common symptom amongst sexual abuse victims but an indicator of someone with an impaired ability to process his or her emotions.
As such, it is no coincidence that his first instance of emotional vulnerability renders him to physically self-mutilation. One proof of how he associates emotional and physical pain as one and the same is how it is only after bloodying himself does Griffith regain his composure.
The second time we see him bleed is when Guts punches him in the face during their first meeting in Volume 4. Seeing him get pummeled is huge shock to the Falcons who up until this point had never even seen him get a scratch. While it may seem trivial, it shows how Griffith, despite all the pomp and circumstance surrounding his character, is simply human a fact that is often lost on everyone but Guts.
More importantly, that it was Guts who made him bleed foreshadows not only Griffith’s defeat at his hand in Volume 8 but how the former is the only person who can cause him pain. Where the White Falcon views everyone else with a detached, emotional disconnect, his reaction to Guts has always been more emotional than even he cares to admit. And emotions are not Griffith’s strong suit. As Casca laments, he is reckless and even puts himself in harm’s way for Guts’ sake. Above all, he lets his guard down emotionally, sharing his thoughts and feelings with Guts, even admitting that “he has never spoken like this to anyone else.”
When we consider how Griffith associates physical pain and emotional pain, his defeat in Volume 8 grows even more poignant in explaining why it unravelled him so terribly. In essence, it was only when Guts physically hurt him that Griffith realized how vulnerable he had become. As we have seen, time and again, Griffith resorts to self-harm when emotionally vulnerable. In committing treason i.e. sleeping with Princess Charlotte whilst just a commoner, Griffith may very well have been trying to harm himself deliberately.
The third time we see him bleeding is at the start of his one year long torture for said treason. The King visits Griffith in his cell expressing dismay at how far he has fallen and proceeds to whip him for desecrating his daughter’s honor. At this point, Griffith is in the worst physical condition we have seen him i.e. a metaphor for the true extent of his emotional turmoil. His dream shattered he is left with nothing but a white-hot hatred for Guts. Yet again we witness Griffith’s propensity for self-harm when emotionally vulnerable, as he begins berating the King, astutely deducing how the monarch lusts after his own daughter. Enraged, the King proceeds to utterly thrash him only to earn a smug smile from Griffith. It is this act of defiance that seals his fate, enraging the King to the point that he orders Griffith to be tortured continuously for “at least one more year.” The ensuing crippling torture is surely Griffith’s way of equating the physical pain with the true extent of his emotional trauma.
The fourth time is right before the Eclipse, at the very nadir of his life. Reduced to a pathetic invalid, he overhears Casca opting to stay behind with Griffith solely out of pity. When Guts insists on staying, Casca reminds him that he must go if “you truly are a friend to Griffith.” Hearing these words, something snaps inside Griffith. He commandeers a wagon and chases after the apparition of his childhood only to end up crashing into a lake. At his wits’ end, he tries to commit suicide by thrusting his neck into a sharp tree branch and fails to do even that. For someone who equates emotional pain with physical pain this is a harrowing image of a once proud warrior broken beyond the point of no return. The bloody tears he cries upon retrieving the Behelit only further intensify his ravaged mind.
The last time we see Griffith bleed is when he and Guts are thrust towards the Godhand on a pillar of damned souls. While holding on for dear life, Guts loses his footing and plummets down only for Griffith to reach out and save him. The sheer weight proves too much for his frail body though. His arm ends up bleeding and Guts slips from his grasp.
This scene is crucial for a number of reasons. For one, this is the first time Griffith’s external pain is not a symptom of his emotional pain. He bleeds because of the state of his body. Secondly, this is the last time we see him bleed as he would go on to begin his transformation into Femto i.e. his transformation into a psychopath from a sociopath. Most importantly, however, it marks the last time Griffith gets hurt because of Guts. Symbolically, it marks the last time Griffith feels anything at all on his path to transcending his humanity.
“No! I will not allow it. If he will not be mine then his life is forfeit!”
Griffith, Season 1, Episode 19.
Griffith’s androgynous appearance, ornate armor, deft skills with the rapier and his famed beauty obviously influence our first impression of him as effeminate, charming and benign. Most people are so enamored by him in just the first meeting that he routinely makes life long allies through social suave and personal magnetism.
The more observant characters, however, have been able to pick up on the more foreboding aspects of his nature. Judeau speaks of his shifting nature where he would stare down a man one moment only to laugh like a child the other. Guts too compares him to a cruel child, disturbed by the cold, calculating precision with which Griffith took him apart in their first one-sided duel. Charlotte claims she thought of him as a mere boy when he showed her how to whistle with a leaf but his reputation on the battlefield was that of the Grim Reaper.
To this end, the White Falcon is also subject to numerous visual child motifs. He is shown in a fetal position on a few occasions such as following his loss to Guts and during the Eclipse when he begins his transformation. Upon his rebirth in his human form, he literally hatches from the Egg apostle. Most importantly, prior to sacrificing the Falcons, Ubik takes Griffith through a series of mental projections to “illuminate the reality of what you truly are” in a bid to convince him to become Femto. The most curious aspect of the entire mental journey was how Griffith was a child in all of it. That is, the one time we see Griffith for what he truly is, he presented as a ten year old child chasing after an impossible dream, which is not surprising in the least. Given his impaired emotional intelligence and sociopathic tendencies, Griffith is at his core an emotionally stunted brat.
Children are not spared any ill-fate in Berserk. They suffer, are maimed and murdered and raped just like everyone else in Miura’s morbid tale. Yet, innocence is a major theme in Berserk, or specifically, how children too are not above becoming monsters. Nowhere is this idea more obvious than the moth apostle, Rosine and her minions; although this theme was first hinted back in Volume 1 when the monk’s daughter Colette is impaled and then possessed by undead soldiers. The fact that the Band of Falcons comprises of soldiers in their mid to late teens is a further development of this fact. Lastly, Guts, an unstoppable monster of a warrior, learnt his craft as a child soldier.
Griffith is no exception having straddled himself with an enormous dream since childhood, born with the feeling that he was destined for greater things, with virtually no one he could identify with and call a friend, fighting battles since he was merely a child and forced to prostitute himself to a nobleman. It is no surprise then that he remains very immature emotionally, having endured so much pain and isolation whilst placing a monumental pressure on himself to succeed in life. As he grew older, his isolation grew along with his ability to influence people with his charm and gravitas. His ego, though fallible and delicate, grew immensely bolstered by his growing military success and the worship of his soldiers such as Casca.
The obvious result is that Griffith had trouble empathizing with people, becoming increasingly controlling and selfish overtime. Though his ego is not immediately obvious it is no doubt palpable, especially as his veneer of decency flaked off. In Volume 10, as his body and mind deteriorated, he reflected over how “you watched us all from above not crawling down here with the rest of us”. Tellingly, he even pondered over how, “I held so many souls in this hand.” These are not the thoughts of a humble man. After all, one of the chief traits of a psychopath and a sociopath is his or her inflated self-esteem and controlling demeanour. It is perhaps fitting then that though the name Griffith means “great leader” its etymology is derived from the expression for “strong grip.”
Most importantly, because everyone accepted him and followed him, Griffith had no reason to revaluate himself and introspect. Like a spoilt brat, Griffith got what he wanted, when he wanted and answered to no one. A curious aspect of his childhood is the utter absence of parental figures in his life. With no parents, no family and no friends, it is no surprise that Griffith is able to cultivate an environment where there is no need for him to grow emotionally. Where a normal child would have to understand restraint, compassion and empathy i.e. mature internally as a person, Griffith geared his efforts towards perfecting a veneer of social charm and outward beauty i.e. mature externally as a persona. That the world places so much emphasis on appearance rather than substance allows this flaw of Griffith’s to continue festering instead of being treated.
Thus, even as his persona grew and matured, his inner person remained neglected and flawed, leaving him unable to truly process emotions honestly and effectively. This inability to process emotions effectively in turn led him to avoid such situations, making him more disconnected from the people around him and in turn less adept at analyzing his emotions in a vicious cycle.
As a result, through all the horrors and violence that is carried out in the name of his dream, Griffith has a curious lack of conscious, deliberate introspection (the warning signs when identifying a potential psychopath). This idea of appearance and substance, or inner and the outer, is the fundamental difference between Guts and Griffith. Where Guts is eternally contemplative, self-analyzing and self-reflective, Griffith only engages in these when under emotional duress. Furthermore, whenever he has been forced to do so, he has resorted to an intricate series of denial, projection and rationalization of his actions to actively avoid having to deal with the pain of self-reflection (discussed above).
Once Guts leaves and everything starts to unravel, Griffith showcases his stunted emotional growth by handling it in the most impetuous, self-destructive way possible. Coupled with inflated ego and his inability to empathize with anyone, all his most glaring flaws come together to form a potent mixture waiting for just the right catalyst to be set off into a colossal disaster for everyone involved. Violent, volatile and vindictive, the Eclipse is essentially a spoilt brat’s tantrum taken to its most morbidly grotesque limits.
Burdens: Messiah or Marauder
“He was pierced for our transgressions,
He was crushed for our iniquities.
The punishment that brought us peace was upon him;
And by his wounds we were healed.”
Berserk presents complex, multi-layered characters with intricate motivations, emotions and rationales for why they do what they do. It is the reason Miura allows us to relate to these characters, in spite of the supernatural beings and settings. One of the reasons he is so successful in doing this is by showing characters change and mature overtime as their responsibilities grow. It is one of the dominant themes of the manga: burdens change people, make them act in ways and do things they normally wouldn’t just like in real life.
Even though Griffith carries an immense dream it is not as much of a burden on him as we may think. Through his leadership and charisma he had made sure that Guts, Casca and the rest of the Falcons shouldered helped carry him forward. That is, the White Falcon unites people under his dream so that they may support him.
Guts, on the other hand, has spent his life propelling others to their dreams, shouldering their burdens and making them his own. He is devoid of his own dreams, never really living a life on his terms because of his intense loyalty and devotion to the people in his life. The words of Kiryu Kazuma from the Yakuza series, another stoic, gallant protector of his flock, ring very true for Guts. “I finally realized something: men like you and me, our lives aren’t our own. There is always someone in need of our help, always someone in need of our protection.” At the start of the manga, Guts is shown as a solitary beast hell-bent on slaughtering apostles in his quest for revenge against Griffith. Yet, as the story unfolds, we come to realize that he is, in many ways, avoiding the true burdens of his life: looking after Casca in her regressed mental state. His reunion with Casca at the climax of the Tower of Conviction is the moment where Berserk becomes a story about a protector struggling under a heavy burden.
This is perhaps the integral dynamic of Guts and Griffith. As the manga unfolds and all the major themes and motifs begin to flesh out, we come to realize that Guts and Griffith, regardless of their complex, multi-layered history have one clear distinction: Guts is the epitome of selflessness while Griffith is that of selfishness. It is what fuels all their major decisions and the themes that revolve around them. While Griffith is often saddled with the Christ metaphors, even being called the savior on numerous occasions, it is Guts who embodies the bodily self-sacrifice so often associated with Christ and other prophets.
Nowhere is this dichotomy more obvious than in what the two men sacrifice to fuel their strength. During the Eclipse, in one of the most galling acts in fictional history, Griffith sacrifices all his comrades to repair and regenerate his broken body. His rebirth as Femto is a birth soaked in blood, nourished by the despair and pain of his own brothers-in-arms.
Even before the Eclipse, Griffith had nary a blemish on his body, not one scar or wound to speak for his great military successes. Very much like his own rapier, he relied on precision when defeating his foes, always at a safe distance and almost never in any harm’s way when fighting.
Guts, on the other hand, is covered head to toe in battle scars after a life time of sacrificing his health for his loved ones. The greatest metaphor for his self-sacrifice is the Berserker Armor. During his grievous encounter with Slan, the high demon’s attacks had left him permanently wounded and weakened. With his body now compromised, he was unable to fend off the apostles as they laid siege to Flora’s home. With Casca and the rest of his comrades in great peril, Guts dons the cursed Berserker Armor in a desperate attempt to save his New Party.
As Fate would have it, though the armor grants him superhuman strength, it draws its power from Guts’ immense hatred and rage against Griffith. Not only that but it is designed to let Guts carry on fighting despite grievous injuries by piercing his body to reinforce it and hold him in place. As such, Guts is literally sacrificing his flesh to gain the strength to protect his loved ones.
This was true before the Eclipse too where Guts would repeatedly risk his life for his comrades, immersing himself into the thick of battle alone on numerous occasions for the sake of his comrades. Even during a time of crisis like against Zodd, Wyald, Boscoge or a hundred soldiers, Guts showed more concern towards his comrades’ safety than his own, yelling at them to escape whilst soldiering on against overwhelming odds. A big reason for this is that he enjoys combat and cannot stand retreating. Yet, one has to consider that if he was merely was blood-thirsty beast, he would have not have put himself in harm’s way for his comrades. A great example of this is when he shields Casca from a hail of arrows. This was before either of them had realized they had feelings for one another. As Casca sobs just before confessing her feelings for him, “you’re always bleeding for me”.
As such, though Griffith is saddled with the Christ-motifs, he is more analogous to the antichrist. This is especially true upon his transformation into Femto, where his outer beauty s merely a carapace to hide his greed, malice and deceit. Just like the prophesized biblical villain, Griffith is surrounded by men and women who follow him implicitly, who buy into his charade of a god-sent savior to lead them quite literally to the Promised Land i.e. Falconia, without realizing that he is leading them to a potential slaughter.
“Now you belong to me, Guts.”
Griffith, Season 1, Episode 3
Homoerotic interpreters often argue that two men being attracted to the same woman is a literary device for latent homoeroticism. In Berserk the homoeroticism is more overt in ways. From Griffith’s androgynous appearance, to tenderly holding Guts’ face saying “you belong to me,” to them playfully throwing water at each other (while Griffith let’s it hang no less), Griffith’s reckless, emotional behavior when matters concern Guts, and to Griffith’s thoughts being fixated on Guts even as he had sex with Charlotte—everything highlights overt homoerotism. People even bring up the night he prostituted himself to Gennon as a (false) example of his gay orientation. Above all, Guts is the only person that Griffith shares his thoughts and ideas with, the only person he reacts to on an emotional level, the only person whose attention he craves and whose opinion he values. When Guts decides to leave him Griffith not only behaves like a child who broke his favorite toy but a jealous, jilted lover willing to go to any lengths to hold on to him.
As the old adage goes: if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck.
Yet, in Berserk, things are rarely as they seem. While there is nothing subtle about Griffith’s homoerotic tendencies, to analyze his relationship with Guts through only this lens is a disservice to one of the most compelling, multi-layered dynamic between hero and villain in all of fiction. For one labeling Griffith a homosexual fails to acknowledge the other orientations that exist out there. Instead of insisting that he is gay, the evidence available just as easily points to him being bisexual. For one, for all the attention he ladles onto Guts, the only (somewhat) consensual sex Griffith has is with Charlotte. He also seemed to genuinely enjoy her company when outside the ballroom. Prior to the Eclipse, as he hallucinates about an ordinary life, he is married to Casca and even has a child from her. If it was a hallucination of an ordinary life and Griffith was indeed gay, why not imagine living with another man?
Griffith has shown to be sexually attracted to only female characters like Charlotte and Casca whom he views as mere sexual objects. Naturally it calls into questions his extremely sexist view on women and his sociopathic/psychopathic tendencies, but the fact remains: he does so only with women. As such, while he may not love the women in his life, he certainly views them as sexual objects to impose his will upon. For a homosexual man, this is out of the ordinary since gay men are usually not sexually attracted to women.
This distinction is crucial. In one of the most disturbing moments in literature, Griffith is reborn as Femto and rapes Casca right before Guts’ eyes. Pinned down by demons and forced to watch, Guts can only scream in horror and rage as Griffith ravages Casca. The most haunting aspect of this scene is Griffith’s sustained eye contact with Guts. The sustained eye contact is not only the ultimate act of disdain and defiance but a means to make Guts understand exactly what Griffith is doing i.e. he is raping Guts through Casca. Even the way Guts is pinned down is similar to how Donovan pinned him down as he raped him. Guts is shown to suffer nightmares about being helpless against a monstrous dark figure pinning him down. The Eclipse is this nightmare made reality, explaining why his aversion to being touched—which had largely disappeared during the Golden Age—returns tenfold following Griffith’s actions. Yet, one is forced to ponder: if Griffith truly was sexually interested in Guts, why not rape Guts? Why do it vicariously through Casca? An obvious explanation could be that it was the best way to avenge himself against both Casca and Guts at the same time. But, the same would hold true if he raped Guts in front of Casca. If his sexual orientation really was that of a homosexual man, there was nothing stopping him physically or in terms of moral scruples.
This is not to say that Griffith does not love Guts, as much as he is capable of loving anyone. Love, however, comes in many forms and though there is plenty of homoeroticism undertones in the Guts and Griffith’s dynamic, to label the White Falcon’s feelings as homosexual love is an oversimplification.
Griffith: Man vs. Monster, Part II
“Will you always be left doubting me when I choose to lay down my life for you?”
~Griffith, Season 1, Episode 7
What Griffith did to Guts, Casca and the Falcons was truly hideous. Since then, he has grown even more remorseless, shattering the entire makeup of the world and unleashing dragons, trolls, giant serpents and all other supernatural entities into the world of humans. All this for the sake of his dream i.e. becoming a king. Utterly reviled by many fans of the manga, Griffith is far from a redeemable character.
While no reader can look at Femto favorably through the lens of morality, Griffith is not as much the villain of the story but a tragic hero. While it is easy to paint him as an entitled man-child with a sociopathic/psychopathic disposition we must acknowledge that for all the carnage in his wake, Griffith is as sympathetic a villain as one will ever encounter in literature.
My first caveat is that though he was a sociopath pre-Eclipse, he still felt remorse and still cared about the Falcons. While many argue that they were just mere pawns to him, this is simply incorrect. Why? One thing that is clear about the sacrifice is that no ordinary person would count as an acceptable sacrifice. It has to be, as the Godhand explain to the Count in Volume 3, someone close to your heart, someone who is irreplaceable and helps you retain your humanity. As such, regardless of how it may seem, the Falcons were very much a part of Griffith’s heart and soul. They were not just his comrades but people near and dear to his heart. During the Eclipse, even as the Godhand promised him his dreams and manipulated him emotionally and mentally succumb to his fate as Femto, Griffith remained torn—right until the point where he came face-to-face with Guts again. As such, yet another wrinkle is added to him prostituting himself to Gennon. Perhaps, Griffith truly did sacrifice his body for his soldiers’ well-being.
Pre-Eclipse Griffith’s first morally dubious act was calling for the assassination of Julius in Volume 6. Griffith asks Guts to assassinate Julius. Guts is initially surprised but then scoffs at not how he is not being ordered like a soldier should be. This exchange is important. For one, Guts presents himself to Griffith as a highly dependable, willing accomplice in his dirty work. Secondly, Guts insisting on being ordered reasserts Griffith’s higher stature in their relationship. Thirdly, and most importantly, this happens on a rare occasion where Griffith seems pensive about the morality implications of his actions. After all, Griffith is about to arrange for his first murder and is using another man to do it, which naturally gives him pause for thought. A large reason for this pause is perhaps the fact that the plot places Guts in harms’ way, illustrating Griffith’s growing emotional connection with him. Considering Griffith’s aversion towards showing any signs of vulnerability, him “asking” Guts for a favor and hinting at his own moral dilemma is an even bigger sign of his faith in Guts and his growing emotional dependence on him.
The above are all novel (and somewhat noble) sentiments for Griffith. Yet in insisting that Griffith just command him to do his bidding regardless of what it may be, Guts downplays their importance in a way that would come back to haunt him. Guts is unwittingly germinating an idea in Griffith’s mind that his comrades are simply a means to acquiring his own kingdom. Worse yet, he is inadvertently encouraging Griffith to disregard the moral nuances of his actions as irrelevant compared to his dream.
When news arrives that not only Julius but his son Adonis has been slain, Griffith smiles triumphantly. Not only did Guts succeed in the task but Adonis’ death was a true icing on the cake since the young prince was a potential suitor for Princess Charlotte. There are two main things to consider here. For one, the assassination plot was in retribution for Julius’ attempted assassination from earlier. Secondly, even though it fit into the grander schemes of his plans, Griffith did not plan to assassinate Adonis. So while he showed no remorse over the young prince’s death (a glaring example of his growing sociopathic tendencies) it was still something that he did not plan on happening.
In fact, this stays somewhat of a consistent theme with Griffith prior to the Eclipse. For a man who is as driven and ruthless, Griffith rarely sheds first blood. While not beyond moral reproach, the While Falcon truly refrains from unnecessary violence. Of course, murder is still an abominable act, but all his assassination plots were in form of self-defence or pre-emptive counter-measures. In fact, we are tempted to vouch for him even more if we explore his enemies’ agendas against him, which almost always boil down to jealousy and scorn over his stature as a mere commoner daring to rise through the ranks rigidly defined by the aristocracy.
Griffith’s hand is forced again in Volume 8 when the Queen and her cabal plan to assassinate him. Once again he does so in retaliation, this time slicing through virtually all his enemies in a single night with Guts’ aid.
Immediately afterwards, Griffith arranges for the death of the kidnappers he used to blackmail an enemy into joining his side. Once again, he employs Guts to do his dirty work. Like the previous two times Griffith spills blood outside of the battlefield, it is in an act of self-preservation. He correctly predicts that the kidnappers would eventually blackmail him on account of doing his dirty work and is forced to remove them from the equation.
After the kidnappers are disposed of, Griffith asks Guts to leave the money they had died for because “they are entitled to their reward.” Though absurd, it is its own kind of morality. This is what makes Griffith so compelling: though his moral code deviates from the norms it is a code he follows resolutely. The White Falcon is a meritocrat, through and through, who believes that a person’s hard work should pay off. In that regard, his ego and sense of entitlement could very well be justified since he fought tooth-and-nail to be a king. It is a dream he staked his whole life on, never faltering in his quest and willing to make any and all necessary sacrifices to see it through.
Then, in perhaps the most important scene of Guts-Griffith’s relationship, Griffith asks Guts a rather abrupt question: “do you think me a dreadful man?” He correctly points out how Guts has been the one getting his hands dirty and endangering himself in virtually all these episodes (the fire that burns the queen may very well have been arranged by Guts). In terms of context, this is at a moment where all of Griffith’s enemies have been neutralized and he stands at the threshold of his dream. Yet, he appears a man not only doubting his own moral standing but palpably ashamed of his actions, going on to even request that Guts never let anyone know of Griffith’s hand in the recent assassinations.
Again, Guts is surprised by Griffith’s abrupt question. Again, Guts scoffs and answers his question with a rhetorical question. “I think it makes your question kind of pointless. You’re just following your path. You still believe that, don’t you?” His conscience alleviated, Griffith smiles and thanks the only man whose opinion he can respect.
The scene is illuminating on a number of levels. For one, this is the first time Griffith has directly questioned his own morality. Given his impaired ability to engage his emotions and morality, he does so by asking another person. As stated earlier, Griffith avoids self-reflection and self-analysis which is why the novelty of it all makes this moment that much more significant. Secondly, him asking Guts also highlights how much he values the to-be Black Swordsman and how, unwittingly, he respects him a friend and an equal. After all, if he never respected Guts, then the latter’s opinion would be irrelevant.
Thirdly, and most importantly, not only does Guts put Griffith’s moral dilemma to rest but he validates Griffith’s morally questionable actions later in the story. Once again Guts was dismissive, pointing out the absurdity of his moral dilemma in the face of his great ambition. The harrowing aspect of it all is that if we consider Griffith’s psychopathic/sociopathic tendencies coupled with his impaired emotional maturity the result of Guts’ answer is essentially dooming them both—which is exactly what happens.
Finally, we come to Eclipse, the even that seals Griffith’s fate as the antagonist of the story. One cannot ignore how Griffith’s decision to become Femto was a complex emotional and mental process, where his personal short-coming were just as complicit as the machinations of the other Godhand members. After all, the definition of a tragic character is that he is doomed by personal failings as well as external factors.
Up until this point, Griffith had spent a year enduring a hellacious torture that had left him crippled, flayed, his bones broken, his face disfigured, and his tongue and tendons slashed so he couldn’t walk, talk or even hold a sword. Where he was once the embodiment of charisma, leadership and an inspiration to thousands, he was now a pitiful has-been. One can only imagine the impact such travails would have had on his mind and ego.
Fallen to such lows, Griffith was presented with a literal undo button, a means to rewrite his destiny from a cripple to King. Constantly influencing his choice were the Godhand members, using a series of revelations, deceptions and hallucinations to ensure he chose the proverbial dark side. Under the pretense of reflecting his true consciousness, Ubik and Conrad set off a series of hallucinations pertaining to his past, the nature of his journey and his destiny as king. Griffith reverts to his childhood persona which is not only symbolic of his childlike emotional maturity but his impressionability and vulnerability at the moment. Ubik and Conrad, disguised as an old woman, proceed to bombard him with the inevitably of his choice and the absurdity of his moral dilemma (echoing Guts’ advice). The more Griffith resists the more domineering Ubik and Conrad become, wearing him down. If one is to use a sales pitch as an analogy, the demonic duo first put him on the defensive, overwhelm him and use his own nature against him.
Slan then assures him that though they appear terrified right now, the Falcons would “forgive you for they have always loved you.” Given Griffith’s childlike inner emotions, and in a continuation of the sales pitch analogy, this was a vile case of making someone hear exactly what they want to hear. After all, what better way to convince a man-child to do something terrible than by pointing out that he will be loved regardless i.e. a lack of consequence.
Finally, Void “closes the pitch” so to speak, by talking about how Griffith is at a point beyond human intellect (appealing to his private belief that he was always different from everyone else) and makes him see what he wants to see i.e. his castle shining before his eyes. He presents Griffith with a binary choice: pile up the bodies of his companions or forever remain buried under the ashes of his failed dream. Griffith watches his castle shining as Void brags about a glorious future that is waiting to be his. The demon’s words seem to resonate with Griffith but he gives no sign of having made up his mind. He still appears genuinely conflicted.
Fate, however, intervenes one last time. At this exact moment, with a potential future blinding his eyes, Guts stands behind him and shouts his name, symbolizing not only his past but all the pain and suffering that he so desperately wants to put behind him. Griffith smiles for the first time in the whole ordeal. Everything snaps into place. He turns to face, not only the man responsible for his monumental fall from grace, but the one who had always encouraged him to follow his dreams no matter the cost.
And so, everything comes to a bloody full circle.
This is why we simply must explore why Griffith reacted so poorly when he found out Guts was leaving. It remains one of the most compelling, most defining moment in their character arcs where the slow build towards Guts standing on his own feet as Griffith’s equal finally reaches its climax. He was fulfilling the ideals of a friend that Griffith himself had laid down: a man ready to battle even him to chase a personal goal. Hence why Guts whispers, “I must go.” After all, as already discussed in Vulnerability Part I, it was Griffith’s trust and respect for him that had allowed Guts to finally find his self-worth after a lifetime of emotional abuse at Gambino’s hands.
Note: I have never read anyone discuss the significance of Guts finding out that Griffith too was raped as young boy. His initial reaction was of shock (understandably) but he was noticeably quiet and ruminative the moment he finds out. Naturally, his sense of kinship for Griffith must have only grown, knowing first-hand the damning effects of sexual assault. Then, as a mercenary, to find out that Griffith had spent a night with Genon willingly, for the sake of his soldiers, would only make Guts’ respect and sense of comradery for the White Falcon grow tenfold.
Considering how this revelation was a mere few days after Guts overhears Griffith’s speech on friendship and the importance of having a dream, and it was sure to have left the to-be Black Swordsman feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he would identify more with Griffith for being a fellow survivor of one of the most experiences a person can endure. On the other hand, however, the same man had emphatically distanced himself from Guts by refusing to consider him an equal.
It is no surprise then that Guts resolves to leave the Band of Falcons to actively become Griffith’s equal. On some level, knowing that the man who seemed so high above everyone else had endured the same horrors Guts did as a child must have de-mystified Griffith enough for Guts to feel he could become his equal.
Sadly, all this is lost on Griffith, however, who is too distraught to fixate on anything but what he perceives as betrayal. Why did he perceive this as betrayal? The obvious explanation is Griffith’s enormous ego, which after years of continual success was at its largest. His arrogance, his sense of entitlement over Guts’ life is glaring. But I feel his ego was just a factor, not the root cause.
For me, it boils down to Griffith’s conscience and growing moral dilemmas.
Now that the wars were over and most of his enemies had been uprooted, Griffith was on the verge of becoming King. Once Griffith had become King, there would be that much more dirty work for Guts to carry out. More importantly, even though all his current enemies had been wiped out with Guts help, more would surely come. His true ascent to the throne had begun and he needed a reliable right-hand man now more than ever before, a Doug Stamper to his Frank Underwood.
As already discussed, however, Griffith is not a psychopath but a sociopath prior to becoming Femto. He still retains his morality hence why he is troubled by it from time to time. Yet, given his impaired moral compass coupled with his emotional disconnect from the rest of the Falcons, no one else can truly help him deal with these dilemmas. They hold on to his every word, pounce on his every command. He has them eating out of his hand and as such, regardless of how dear they are to him, he does not respect them enough for their advice or opinion to mean anything. Guts, however, is unique. What the to-be Black Swordsman opines matters to Griffith, his advice and suggestions are truly worth considering. Thus, whenever his conscience bothers him, Griffith can turn to no one but Guts—the only one privy to them and the only person he respects enough for his words to resonate.
Yet, everything is illuminated when we consider what exactly Guts said to him in these instances of moral crisis. Guts encouraged him to expel these doubts and to continue chasing his dreams. It really is no surprise then that during the Eclipse when Griffith is on the verge of accepting his fate as Femto, he hallucinates about Guts’ exact words to him from the night he asked him if he was a bad man. After all, to Griffith’s egotistical, childlike, sociopathic mind this was like receiving his blessings to become a remorseless pyschopath.
That is, Guts always said what Griffith wanted to hear. His conscience creeping up on him again and again was clearly a distortion, a nuisance that was distracting him from his goals. Guts telling him to ignore the moral complexity of his actions was an encouragement to expel his conscience. As echoed by Slan’s words of being forgiven and being loved by the Falcons, it was also a reassurance that regardless of what his actions might suggest Griffith was not a bad man. No action would lead to any ill-will because he was simply following a dream. This is where the true extent of Griffith’s tragedy manifests itself: when we realize that, more than even the Godhand, it was Guts who pushed him down the path towards becoming Femto.
This is the denouement of Griffith’s pre-Eclipse character arc. After years of struggling with his conscience he finally internalizes Guts’ message and becomes Femto. This is evident when he uses this exact idea against Guts himself during their encounter at the Hill of Swords i.e. his heart could no longer be swayed because he was following Guts’ advice of no longer feeling any remorse as long as what he did gained him his own kingdom. This might explain Griffith’s enigmatic smile at Guts just as the hand enclosed him and the process of becoming Femto began. It was an eerie “thank you” to the man who had always encouraged him to become what he had just become: a monster.
~Sado22
P.S. next portion of the analysis focuses on original Band of the Hawks!
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