The Never Ending Story is a quirky children’s novel published by Michael Ende, though the majority of us are familiar with the 80’s film—the music of which would eventually infiltrate a scene in the third season of Stranger Things, if you’re still not sure what I’m talking about.
The movie is, in a sense, a duel protagonist narrative, following the intertwining stories of two little boys and their respective worlds—Earth, and the world within the Never Ending Story, the book within the book, Fantasia. Bastian is the human protagonist who reads the book, following another little boy, Atreyu, who’s mission it is to stop the Nothing which is destroying his world. Bastian eventually realizes he is the only one who can save the world.
For the purposes of this discussion, I’ll only be discussing the first half of the novel, which makes up the plot of the first film. I’ll also be focusing on the first film’s take on the narrative, touching upon what surprised me when watching it again as a jaded adult.
The lesson, on the surface, seems to be to follow your dreams. As an adult, this idea that you should be allowed to follow your passions and indulge in fantasy, in the dreams which keep mankind moving forward, remains important. However, there is another layer to the story—one which will go right over children’s heads, but hit adults hard.
The Never Ending Story—at least as far as the film interpretation goes—is also about depression.
Are you confused yet? This still connects to the central theme of following your dreams. If you don’t follow them, you’ll be unhappy. Conversely, if you’ve lost interest in those activities which thrilled you, this in itself could be a sign you’re already unhappy.
What’s interesting about this layer is the fact that Bastian is going through grief, an emotion which can preclude depression. He’s missing school, being bullied, and struggling to “keep his feet on the ground” while still dreaming about his mother. It’s safe to say the poor kid is going through a lot; who can blame him for wanting a little escapism in the form of submarines or unicorns?
Within the book, there are six moments which point to depression.
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1) The Swamps of Sadness
The Swamps of Sadness have to be the most on the nose example. The area is literally a place which makes you feel despair (and die if you give in to it). Despair might seem harmless, if miserable, but the Swamps of Sadness show that such emotions can be fatal.
In a scene which traumatized all children throughout the 80’s, we see Atreyu’s closest companion, his horse Artex, succumb to the sadness…and sink. It’s an apt metaphor for “sinking into a depression,” and the scene shows that it can happen to anyone. If anyone should be happy, it’s a horse. Artex shows no signs of unhappiness prior to the event, and has a loving owner and friend to guide him. Despite this, he’s not impervious to the effects of despair. Even as Atreyu tells the horse “he has to care,” he can’t.
People with depression can’t always care—even if it might mean hurting their loved ones. They’ll give up, sink as it were, even with the greatest support systems. Atreyu tells Artex that he loves him…and it still isn’t enough. Those who give up as a result of depression often do so with loving family behind them.
2) The Apathetic Turtle
Sadness is the obvious emotion associated with depression, but apathy is a lesser talked of, but still important, aspect of it. After losing his horse, Atreyu proceeds to talk to Morla, the Ancient One. Morla is a turtle like creature who lives by himself. Social isolation can contribute to depression, and Morla has taken to talking to himself to fill the void. He refers to himself as “we,” and is indifferent to the suffering of Fantasia. One of Morla’s comments says it all: “We don’t care.” He follows this line, as Atreyu argues with him, with, “Nothing matters.”
Not everyone who has depression acts sad. Morla shows no signs of tearing up. Instead, many with depression simply become numb, showing no emotions at all. Morla, aside from a few moments of irritation and laughter at Atreyu’s expense, talks in a flat voice. The only time he does show interest is when Atreyu reminds him the Nothing will kill him too—though it’s not concern which Morla betrays.
“Well, that would be something,” the turtle says, as though Atreyu has given him a mildly interesting weather forecast. Those who have given up, and plan to take their own lives, sometimes show emotion again. They seem excited, even happy, as they go about their lives. That death should be the only event of note to Morla is telling. In his own way, he has given up. He can’t even bring himself to care about others, or to help a little boy, because he’s lost interest in even himself.
3) Giving Up
Atreyu encounters another character who has given up later in the story—the Rock Biter, having lost his friends to the Nothing, sees no reason to continue living. He isn’t going to fight anymore. He tells Atreyu he is just going to sit there and let the Nothing take him. That’s almost on the nose, but his emotions are understandable, given he’s in the throes of grief. Like Bastian, he is processing the loss of loved ones. Many who lose those closest to them can sink into a depression. The fact that Bastian struggles in school may point to him experiencing similar feelings, given the context. He’s willing to skip a whole day of school to read a book. He can’t face real life. Even as it grows late, he continues reading (though by this point, his father must be worried sick about him). His behaviour isn’t exactly healthy.
4) The Sphinx & Self Worth
Many who suffer from depression also don’t have a high opinion of themselves. Even if they act arrogant, or put on a convincing act, they ultimately have inferiority complexes. Even the most accomplished among us can feel they are worthless.
In order to reach the Southern Oracle, Atreyu must first travel through two trials, beginning with the two Sphinx statues. If the person who travels through it has a low opinion of himself, the Sphinxes’ eyes will open, and the person will be struck down with beams shot from them. The first person to ride up to the Sphinx is a knight like figure. He has fancy armour, a horse, strength—he holds himself in an upright manner, and likely has the adoration of others back home. His is an honourable position, but when he tries to travel between the twin Sphinxes, he is shot down.
For all his pomp, he didn’t value himself. Atreyu manages to make it through the trial, but barely. Even a child, especially one who has had to contend with continual failure over the past several weeks, can succumb to the feeling. It’s worth noting, though, that the Sphinx don’t open their eyes as quickly for Atreyu as they do for the knight—this is likely because children are more resilient in a way. They haven’t yet built up the walls of self doubt which all adults carry. They may have some. No one is immune to feeling worthless, particularly if they’re depressed, but children have a better chance of pulling themselves through.
5) Hard Truths
With self reflection comes some hard truths. The second trial, following that of the Sphinx, is the mirror. When one looks into the mirror, they see themselves as they truly are: kind people find out they are cruel, and brave people find out they are cowards. This continues the theme of self worth, focusing on how people see themselves within the world. Those with depression might face similar struggles. They may have a hard time facing life in general. They don’t want to admit they have problems. Bastian certainly won’t admit that he’s struggling, even as he skips out on a whole day of school, neglecting to come home even when the day ends. His skipping starts because his teacher issues a math quiz—Bastian can’t face his problems, and so he runs away.
The depressed person looking in the mirror would see, instead of the confident, bubbly person they portray themselves to be, someone who is sad, and who can’t face themselves or their difficulties. The viewers hear that most people who see themselves “run away, screaming.”
6) The Nothing
One can’t talk about the Never Ending Story or it’s metaphor for depression without discussing the biggest component of the plot, the Nothing. As Rock Biter says, a dried up lake, or a hole, would be something…but where a lake should be, there is just nothing.
Someone who is depressed stops caring. They stop seeing the world around them. They stop seeing their friends, which leads to them losing those friends. They don’t feel sad or angry all the time—actually, they can end up feeling nothing. Anger would still be something…but there can just be no emotions at all, as seen with Morla.
The Nothing is terrifying, because it has a habit of spreading, of growing larger and destroying everything in it’s path. It’s an inescapable force, and one which everyone fears.
Depression couldn’t be described better: it destroys everything which is meaningful in our lives. It takes away friends, and that which we find beautiful. If we don’t act, it worsens, and for those who have it depression seems unstoppable. The fact everyone in Fantasia fears the Nothing is also telling—because everyone who is human fears, and is susceptible to, depression. Like the Nothing, you can try to outrun it for a time…but if it’s not faced directly, it will eventually catch up to you.
In Conclusion
For those reeling over how depressing this whole analogy actually is, the story digs dipper. The servant’s main servant, Gmork, serves the Nothing because he recognizes that those who have given in to despair can’t think for themselves, and are therefore “easier to control.” In our current climate, as we try to climb out of a pandemic, this is a scene that hits close to home.
People become more compliant in times of fear, especially since such fear creates feelings of depression in a wider range of people. Those driven by fear and sadness look for outside answers, which make them susceptible to individuals like Gmork who are eager to capitalize on this, and profit from the control they’ve been given. Gmork explains that Fantasia is made up of the hopes and dreams of mankind—if the Nothing is consuming Fantasia, that’s not a good sign for the hopes and dreams of humanity outside of it.
The implication is that those suffering from depression lose their dreams…but also that the ability to dream may save them. Fantasy is called escapism for a reason, but it goes beyond that. The ability to think about the world, to build new things, to hope and dream, is what drives us forward, and gives us a purpose. Depression means having no motivation, but our dreams motivate us.
Bastian may be depressed over the loss of his mother, but he finds his healing in giving her name to the Childlike Empress. He gives in to the fantasy that he can influence a book. His father has told him to “keep his feet on the ground,” but he cries that he “will do what he dreams” when tasked with naming the Empress. Her having a name is how Fantasia is saved…and how Bastian himself is saved. Being allowed to follow his dreams, to have a purpose, is what will give his life meaning and pull him from the depression—the Nothing—which tries to take him.
What other children’s book shocked you with it’s themes or metaphors? Is there anything you would add to this assessment? Let me know!