Anime Pilgrimage RTT

The Legend of Black Heaven

“HARD ROCK save the SPACE” proclaims the English subtitle to The Legend of Black Heaven. Somehow, this is really all that needs to be said. Another late night anime of the “how did they get viewers” variety, Black Heaven is less sci-fi than it is an examination of domestic life, salary working and reviving lost dreams.

Oji is in his late thirties and works as the assistant head-manager at faceless firm of salary-men. It is never clear what his job is, but this scarcely matters. Oji’s watershed moment is when he realises that his wife has thrown out his last guitar, which symbolises to him that his past is truly gone. On the very same day, Yuki Layla begins to work at the company. That night, Oji goes out to get drunk and is joined by this beautiful woman. She offers to take him to Heaven – which turns out to be the bridge of an alien spaceship. Her plan is to get Oji to play his guitar as he did fifteen years ago in his band Black Heaven, in order to defeat the aliens’ enemies!
Oji puts it down as a dream, but soon enough he realises that he has been given the opportunity to play the guitar again – even if he initially thinks that he’s just playing at an elaborately conceived live-house. Over time, Oji acts to reform the band to defeat the aliens, becomes closer to his son, has a rocky relationship with his wife and more all in the course of his metaphorical affair.

The Legend of Black Heaven (AKA Black Heaven, Japanese title Kacho Oji or “Assistant head-manager Oji”) is an interesting series in that it is firstly about such an old and “boring” lead character. Characters who are thirty five plus are rare in primary roles, especially when all they do is work in an office. It may sound as if the whole “music to fight in space” idea is derivative of Macross, but science-fiction is not important. In a bold move, Oji is the most important part of the series. The war is so obviously a back drop that the preview for the final episode concedes that it is never explained who the villains are. They don’t matter at all.

Oji is an excellent character, who becomes gradually revitalised and more enthusiastic about everything as he continues to play. Initially, his playing is selfish. One day he has to take care of his son, Gen. Watching Gen run to the park, Oji realises that he knows nothing about him. Oji is then called out to play his guitar, leaving Gen all alone. This is bad parenting! But when Gen gets into trouble, Oji realises that he can’t think only of himself and through his actions begins to involve Gen – as well as getting involved in Gen’s life as well. Perhaps more importantly, Oji feels like he has a purpose in life. His saving of Gen coincides with his realisation that he’s fighting a war, and this empowers him further. It’s a double hit of reality for him.

It is difficult to understand why Oji remains married to Yokko. Married people may understand the sacrifice involved, but over the years she has thrown out Oji’s records, his amp, and all of his guitars. Out of necessity, she says. Yokko’s actions are essentially what robbed Oji of his identity and made him into the gormless lump of the series’ beginning. Their union does not make a lot of sense, anyway. She used to be a groupie, but you would never think it. With so little sympathy, and so much disappointment in her husband.
People likely have their own reasons for these things, though, but Yokko seems far too angry a character for anyone to stay with.

The other thing that Oji has to learn is that dreams can be shared, but not always acted upon by everyone. When he reforms the band to drink, he invites them to save the universe – but they can’t leave their jobs and families just to do this made up thing. There is a difference between drunken bravado and reality, and when the band members think it would just be playing, they can’t bring themselves to do it.
Dreams of grandeur becoming reality is a very confusing thing to deal with indeed.
It works the other way, too; the aliens use Oji at first only to utilise his groove. To encourage him, they pretend that they care about the music. Over time, they realise that the music is pretty rocking and become genuine fans. This idea hits Layla the hardest, and the metaphorical affair frequently comes dangerously close to being a real affair.
The affair is the weirdest part of the series; while one wants these characters to be happy, it should not come at the expense of others. As a result, the ending is definite and yet in some regards ambiguous.

The production smacks of AIC, and was their 1999 attempt at digital animation. Despite a couple of moments of click and drag, they had the whole process pretty much down-pat. The characters look like standard, if rather normalised, AIC fare. All of the Japanese people have brown or black hair, and Layla, who is transitionary normal is blonde. The three characters who make this most AIC, are the blue, purple and green haired characters who act as comic relief and present the previews. The series could have done without them, but it’s for the look of the thing, you know?

The opening song is John Sykes’ “Cautionary Warning”, which is promoted on all of the packaging. The song is nice, and grows, but the opening animation is grotesque: it is rotoscoped footage of a John Sykes concert, and is quite freaky. People have been put off this anime on the OP animation alone. The ED is more generic bizarre J-Pop, more notable for the fact that it is accompanied by shots of the three girls sleeping naked.

The Legend of Black Heaven is recommended anime not only for middle-aged people but for anyone who is at a turning point in life – or has been. It may bore some, but the target audience is broad. It would be wise not to forget this.

Street Fighter II V – episodes 1 to 7

“They go to meet the mighty”. Often you can get a feeling for an anime series by the way the previews are signed off. Many, such as Rurouni Kenshin, have the generic “please look forward to it”. Evangelion memorably had Mitsuishi Kotono promising “Next time, service service!” each week until that became grossly inappropriate for the series. City Hunter 2 has Kaori delivering a different threat each week: “don’t watch it and get the hammer” eventually becomes “if you don’t watch it, you’ll get the death penalty!”, and then “If you don’t watch it, someone will look at your panties!”.
So, when you finish an episode of Street Fighter II V and the legendary Ohtsuka Akio signs off with “They go to meet the mighty” in a serious passionate voice, you know you’re in for something good. That simple phrase encapsulates the essence of this anime.

Street Fighter II V is a rare example of good fighting game anime. This is because it does not really treat itself as such: fighting game anime tend to have overblown and/or flatly ridiculous plots (Invisible dinosaurs, anyone?), but Street Fighter II V is really a buddy world-travelling anime, a quest for self-improvement in the form of martial arts.
Ryu works as a tree-feller on an island in Japan. One day he receives a letter from his old training partner Ken, containing money and air tickets and the message “Come to America”. And so Ryu goes to America and reunites Ken, the best American who ever did live.
In a bar fight, Ryu is knocked out by Sergeant Guile. Ken goes to Guile’s airbase, and is also knocked out. Realising that there are people in the world who are stronger than them, Ken and Ryu embark on a mission to travel the world and fight them. Their first stop is Hong Kong, where they meet Chun Li. It looks like their involvement with her is going to be important, as it has gained the attention of Ashura, the evillest of all drug-smuggling units in the Asian region. Foreshadowing at this point suggests that Ashura is working for a familiar organisation. Familiar, that is, to Street Fighter fans.

The adventures that Ryu and Ken get into are fun, and this is largely because they are such good friends. They never get too serious about become the ultimate fighters, as what they really want to do is have a good time. If that involves beating people up, so be it. Chun Li is not too ditzy, and the three of them have good times together. When the series gets a little serious, it doesn’t take it too far. That makes all the difference. It could be forecast that there will be some sort of spiritual commentary involved later on, but Street Fighter II V is directed with a steady hand. This makes it difficult to be concerned about its future.

There are several key differences between Street Fighter II V and the video game that spawned it. The desire to not emphasise fidelity to its roots is something that liberates it from any doldrums. The first hint is that Ken has red hair rather than blonde. This is not a particularly revolutionary move, but it’s important enough to note that all of the characters’ backstories are not strictly the same as in the games – or that because the characters are only teenagers, they don’t have to worry about some of the terrors that have befallen them in their pixellated forms.
While I am familiar with the ideas behind Street Fighter II (note: only II, I don’t go in for all this “third impact” or “alpha” or “EX2” junk or whatever), I can’t say if a hardcore fan would like this series: that’s the beauty of it, there’s no need to have any sort of familiarity with the core influence. The only real question is why someone would let their seventeen year old son tour the world to get into fights: Ken and Ryu probably should have been aged a year. This, however, is a quibble.

The production values are relatively good, with Ken and Ryu probably at their best ever in anime. There has been a lot of ugly Street Fighter anime through the years, and while their eyebrows might stick out a little too far from their head they still look just fine. Chun Li looks attractive for once, and is in no way disproportionate. The only problem is with a few of the one-shot characters who did not have much thought put into them, and there are a few times where Ryu and Ken fight twins – therefore magically halving the character design requirements for a scene! Despite budget constraints, most battle scenes are fluid and enjoyable.
The in-show music is excellent to the highest degree. That is not to say that these are quality compositions, but they are so full of energy and add to the program’s enjoyment factor. The biggest disappointment comes not from CAPCOM’s treatment of the series, but rather Manga Entertainment’s. For a Manga Entertainment production, these DVDs are surprisingly good looking. What is unforgivable, however, is the fact that Manga saw fit to edit out both the OP and ED, replacing the OP with its own mixture of animation and set to some ultra-dramatic inappropriate composition by “Mike Egan and Critter”. The music is not terrible, but it definitely does not fit with the light-hearted nature of these early episodes.

Street Fighter II V makes liberal use of shorthand, sometimes blatantly obvious and others so blatantly obvious that they go unnoticed. Take the character of Ken: Ken lives in a mansion, surrounded by acres and acres of rich forest. When Ryu arrives in San Francisco, Ken’s parents are out to dinner with the President. Ken’s mother is Japanese, and so when his parents return home in their private jet, his father is wearing a tuxedo and his mother a kimono. She’s Japanese, you see.
The ridiculous nature of Ken’s richness is compounded when he goes to a hotel and orders the $20,000 Penthouse, that has its own heli-pad. That seems kind of dangerous, and could lead to kidnappings, but in such instances sense is not needed, only implication.
In the episode featuring Fei Long and Ken in a ridiculous outfit, there is a director character. He is not introduced at any point as a director, and it takes a few minutes to realise that the reason that you recognise him as such is because he is short, wears a beret, vest and sunglasses, has half a moustache on either side of his nose and waves a megaphone. This is a simple technique, but it is subliminally effective.
Despite all this, somehow it manages to get away without any cultural stereotyping – other than the obvious and necessary idea of Ken living the life of the inexplicably rich American.

Street Fighter II V is rare: it’s an enjoyable fighting game series. What this is is refreshing, possibly the definition of entertainment. You can’t go far wrong with this anime if you want light fun.

The Big O II – Acts 14 to 20

Acts 14 to 20, you say? The Big O II continues the numbering from the first series, because what The Big O is a 26 episode program that just so happened to take a three year break in production. The Big O II was made due to American fan demand, co-produced by Cartoon Network. This is one of the best actions that fandom has had on the industry, because this series really did not do well enough in Japan to justify SUNRISE making a continuation.
Some have accused the involvement of American companies as being a blight on the anime industry, an attempt to make anime more homogenised and evil! Some people just love to listen to the sound of their own complaints.

The Big O II is such a continuation of the The Big O that it picks up exactly where its predecessor left off. Concessions are made to the gap of three years, like an increase in flashes to past episodes. This is because the mystery of Paradigm City and the lost Memories are beginning to come together and all clues are alluded to once more.
This series is more of the same, but is also different in a way (and not in an “Americans have ruined anime!” way). This is due to the infusion of more money, the desire to reveal more secrets and also the need to bring back Beck and cause pain to viewers.

The 14th act of The Big O II sets a precedent for the series: the first episode to include “psycho-drama”, the sort that seems to happen only in a character’s mind. Roger’s look into the pre-amnesia time of his psyche is interesting, not just because it features Mister Beck but because it also has creative cinematography. The use of a theatre is admittedly not original material, but it comes across well – as is presenting all of the characters in silhouette, at least facially.
The use of symbolism has also increased, and one has to wonder what the red balloon means. This sort of writing and presentation is delicious.

This series is following some of the examples set by the first, with Norman’s concern for the state of dinner being well recognised. The butler also gets to come into his own, driving a motorbike that shoots missiles from the sidecar and a memorable use of a kitchen cupboard.
Angel, the character who was infuriatingly mysterious in the first series, is given a real opportunity to reveal herself. The scenes between her and Roger are among the best and most romantic. The moment of realisation at the beach is one of the best dramatic moments produced for either series. Unfortunately, this comes at the expense of the relationship of Roger and Dorothy, who get precious little shared screen time. Dorothy appears to want to act independently, which is good for her but takes away one of the more enjoyable dynamics of the series.

The rest of these episodes take a distinctly religious stance, such as in the case of people singing in church for comfort, and the coming of an angel down to Paradigm City. There are excellent episodes on human and robot equality, a subject that always makes the characters wonder how the two got along before amnesia. Whatever it was that hit Paradigm City got the androids, placing everyone on equal footing.

The only exception to the enjoyability is the totally random episode 18, which features a Japanese company. The Japanese businessmen are represented as short, bucktoothed and camera-happy. This sends a very mixed message. The whole episode is out of line with the rest of the series, using a bizarre mix of American and Japanese animated humour techniques. The episode begins with Roger’s narration, then a “bouncy” effect to reveal that he is actually still in bed (the implication being that he is a lazy sod). Later on, Dorothy makes a joke in bad taste. This causes Roger to fall down! One wonders, what is going on here, exactly. It’s capped off by a sentai fight – a parody of sixties designed robots (ie Big O) versus the seventies designed combining robots. This part is actually pretty funny, but this is not like an episode of The Big O. The fact that Japanese tradition continues in an American city (one of their banks is “Your Financial Institution, Anytown USA”) boggles the mind entirely.

The Big O II‘s score is excellent; powerful, moving and dramatic. Whatever the occasion, the music matches the scene perfectly. This is particularly noticeable a lot of the time. The action sequences are excellently choreographed, and there is a lot of creative camera techniques involved. A dialogue between Norman and a guard told largely by their hands is fascinating to watch.

More money seems to have allowed The Big O II to have more colour than its predecessor, and this is really its only flaw; it is too bright. By 2002, most anime productions had moved into a completely digital world, and occasionally this series suffers from soft-focus as a result. It could be sharper, but overall this is still an attractive series – and somehow Dorothy looks cuter, so it’s all good.

The Big O II is a worthy successor to The Big O, with its enlarging of themes and creation of themes anew. Apparently it gets deeper and more confusing here on out. Somehow, it all feels worth it.

City Hunter 2 – episodes 8 to 13

City Hunter 2 continues to run the gamut of City Hunter-ness; the cool, the stupid, the funny and the pointless. One could say that this series has it all and they’d be just about right.

The biggest problem with this series is that too many episodes start with Kaori advertising Ryo’s services. He’s an underworld bodyguard, dangit! Keep him a damned secret! However, the shopping district always happens to be a good place to meet new clients. When Ryo acts as someone’s fiancée after being picked out , this gives birth to hilarious police comedy involving Ryo borrowing a police car. It also shows that sometimes concerned fathers are just concerned parents and not trying to ruin their daughters’ lives – and this episode also shows the only act of violence against a woman Ryo has ever committed (the other time it was technically against a transsexual).

In Ryo’s other adventures he gets official police dispensation to grope an officer, we learn that it is every man’s dream to “mokkori with a noble”.
There is a country in this world where peeking is punishable by death, which is quite cool. This leads us to another “internationally flavoured” episode of City Hunter. Guests from overseas in City Hunter are inevitably princesses or prodigies from non-existent Middle-Eastern or Teutonic countries. Salina and Alma, in this case, are a princess in disguise as a lady-in-waiting and a ten year old lady-in-waiting with an IQ of 250 (this facet of her character is introduced quite an awkward fashion) pretending to be the aforementioned princess. This two parter, about noble aura preventing mokkori, proves that everyone comes to Japan in order to be targeted for death and saved from horrible fates. That’s just the way it goes.
Despite any foregone conclusions that can be drawn, “Mokkori Killer” had a very sweet ending.

Kamiya Akira really can’t be praised enough for his work in City Hunter. A lot of the dialogue is boring, but the way he delivers makes it funny. “Oh! Weapon Attack! No!” is only hilarious when you actually hear him saying it. Otherwise, it would simply be dull and flat. A lot of his work was likely hell on the throat, particularly with the extremes of smooth to un- in the space of a sentence.

Anyway, City Hunter 2 is pretty damned funny. Not just because of its corrupt business-men jumping from exploding boats and miraculously surviving: it is actually getting more daring in its visual representation of jokes. Although there are very few serious, or indeed actual clients any more, there’s still enough entertainment here.

Cautionary Warning

Hey guys. I don’t normally talk much about the site but I’m saying now that it is going to become, for a while at least, imageless. This is because I appear to have violated some sort of terms of service of my image host, which they weren’t actually nice enough to tell me and just put up the huge “picture unavailable” images all around.
You’ll have to read my site for the sparkling wit and insight contained within, until I reach my own domain/hosting!
I’m doomed.

Studio Ghibli Collection: The Cat Returns

The 2002 Studio Ghibli film The Cat Returns is the first that is in no way related to Miyazaki Hayao or Takahata Isao. It looks, and feels, the least “Ghibli” of all of the efforts. Yet this is still an enjoyable adventure.

Based upon Hiiragi Aoi’s manga and using two of the characters introduced in Whisper of the Heart (in very different ways), The Cat Returns is about high-school student Haru. One day as Haru walks home from school, she sees a cat about to get hit by a truck. Running onto the road, she saves the cat with her lacrosse stick. The cat stands and thanks her, before running off.
That night, Haru is visited by a procession of cats. It turns out that the cat she saved was Prince Lune. The king of the Cat Kingdom wants to personally thank her for this, and gives her many rewards. When Haru learns that the king wishes to marry her off to Prince Lune, she seeks the aid of Muta and Baron of the Cat Business Office. Still, she is whisked off to the Cat Kingdom and begins to turn into a cat. In order to avoid succumbing, Haru must somehow find herself!

This is not an actual sequel as it simply shares two characters from Whisper of the Heart. As such, the cat is not returning from anything, and the title should be read as “The Cat Returns the Favour”. As a stand-alone feature, this film is flatly excellent. Of special note is that at 75 minutes it is the shortest Studio Ghibli film ever. At the sixty minute mark it runs clean out of material to use, but this is remedied by the fact that fifteen minutes is enough for an escape scene and a conclusion to Haru’s adventure.

The Cat Returns is a small film but frequently hilarious in a way that most Studio Ghibli productions are not. The time spent in the Cat Kingdom is essentially a large series of jokes, and really quite funny. The time when the cat king is trying to get Haru to cheer up is almost tear-inducingly good and not the sort of thing one would expect.

The only real problem with The Cat Returns is the need for Haru to have learned something from it all. There were no real difficulties in her life or about her character, short of waking up late, that needed to be remedied by a visit to a magical realm. The idea “to prevent becoming a cat, you must find yourself” seems to be contrived simply so there can be some variety of positive message sprung from this film. When Haru lists all of the things that she’s done as a learning experience, this grates with what is really a simple adventure film. Self-improvement is all well and good, but not strictly necessary in every instance.

This is a Studio Ghibli film that pays attention to the small stuff, such as Muta and Baron preparing whipped cream to eat with a cake, and then decorating it. Muta wielding a whisk and Baron using an icing pourer is simply excellent.
For those who have seen Whisper of the Heart, The Cat Returns may be difficult to watch. This is because Kondo Yoshifumi did not design it, and Baron’s design has been watered down a little bit to make him easier to animate. This is fair enough, and eventually one gets used to it.
The biggest failing in the design, then, is that Haru does not look like a Ghibli heroine. Studio Ghibli films have instantly recognisable characters thanks to Miyazaki and Kondo having the same aesthetic feel. Not so here, which differentiates the movie further from its studio roots. Studio Ghibli’s trademark simplistic charm is nowhere in evidence, and the characters look much rougher.

Still, the film is amazingly creative; the procession of cats initially looks awkward as they walk bipedally, but then the cooler cats come into play. The variety of cats is a large source of delight: the body guard and executioner cats are hilarious. Of particular note is that the Cat King’s court is attended by cats of all cultures: Ancient Egyptian, middle eastern, and Tudors, of all things.
Nomi Yuji’s score is not as memorable as his work on Whisper of the Heart, but the film ends on a soothingly bouncy song proving that all is right with the world.

The Cat Returns is unique fare; it’s not like anything Studio Ghibli has done before, and not really like anything that’s been placed on the market in the last decade. If it weren’t for its message, this would be the perfect brief adventure film.

Studio Ghibli Collection: Whisper of the Heart

Excellence resides in the hearts of the animators at Studio Ghibli. Whisper of the Heart (literal title: If you listen closely) is the Studio Ghibli film not directed by Takahata Isao or Miyazaki Hayao. Kondo Yoshifumi took control of this project, and would have been likely to produce more excellent works had he not passed away three years after the completion of this one.

Whisper of the Heart is one of those brilliant films for which no description comes easily. Tsukishima Shizuku is about to enter high school. When she “should” be studying, she reads books. Shizuku notices that someone named Amasawa Seiji has borrowed many of the books she reads before her. In Shizuku’s mind, Amasawa Seiji becomes an idealised model of dreaminess.
Shizuku comes to meet a boy who turns out to be Seiji but neglects to mention this fact for some time. Seiji is dedicated to the creation of violins, and wishes to go to Italy to apprentice and find if he has talent. This inspires Shizuku to write a story based upon Baron, a cat doll from the antique store owned by Seiji’s grandfather.

Shizuku’s struggle is likely to resonate with people who have attempted self-expression. She is an “unpolished precious stone”, with the film revealing the encouraging message that not everything has to be perfect right out. Mastery can take years, and instead of frustration one should feel pride in their work. This is an important message, and encouraging. It is certainly better than telling children that they “ain’t got nothin’, so don’t bother tryin'”. It’s not really moralising, so much as it is character building. While characters sometimes complain about their preaching, nothing really comes across as annoyingly preachy.
The film is capped by a ridiculous, overly ideal ending, but this does not matter. The point at which it leaves is quite beautiful, in a nice way. It is unbelievable, but this is in no way an issue. The joy that it instills in the heart of man is well worth it despite any impracticalities associated.

Miyazaki scripted Whisper of the Heart, but Kondo is given more than ample space to express himself. This feels like no other Studio Ghibli film, despite their uniform character design. Shizuku is a character that tries to throw herself into stories, such as following a stray cat in the hope that it will lead her to a new world. In a way, it does: she discovers the World Emporium, a shop that is practically overflowing with inspiration.

Kondo has no difficulty in letting big moments carry the viewer away; there is a whole segment devoted to singing the movie’s theme that starts out uncertainly and grows and grows until there is some sort of magic in the air, and it’s almost sad to see it end. This scene prospers due to a lack of editing and the characters’ refusal to be shy. This is definitely a highlight of the film.

There is another point where-in the World Emporium owner fixes a “Porco Rosso” clock and takes the time to tell Shizuku the tale behind the clock – interesting stuff not related to the plot but somehow still an integral part of the film. Due to the focus on Shizuku at all times, this does not bear the burden of making the film too sprawling and hard to follow. If anything, it becomes more personal.

Kondo has some interesting visual ideas, particularly the best symbol of death ever that doesn’t actually end with a death. The story that Shizuku writes based around Baron shows up in several scenes, and not only is it an interesting story but it is presented in an incredible way, like a sort of jewelled version of the film. As excerpts it works really well, not having much to do with the story at hand, but frequently giving Shizuku inspiration which is quite elating.

The film’s theme is “Take Me Home, Country Roads”. It gets the movie off to a bad start – Olivia Newton-John singing an anime theme, man! – But as Miyazaki transforms the song into Japanese, and the lyrics more appropriate to teenaged girls, it becomes personal and a huge part of the film’s feel. There’s also a cynical version of the song named “Concrete Roads” that seems quite funny coming out of the mouth of a teenaged girl but would sound really quite bad coming from Miyazaki himself. Times like these make one glad for ciphers. Nomi Yuji’s score is practically never ending, and really quite inspirational every step of the way – a real companion for Shizuku.

Whisper of the Heart is an easy film that promotes a feeling in the end. It’s very hard to come out of it not feeling good, due to its delightful resonance.

Studio Ghibli Collection playing at the Valhalla and Chauvel cinemas until January 16 2005.

X (the movie)

This review kind of has spoilers in it, although it’s hard to spoil an apocalypse anime.

This entire film can be summarised by its final line of dialogue: “Why?” For the uninitiated, X is a collection of scenes that don’t appear to mean anything. There’s very little dialogue and what little there is comes across as shoddily translated. Based on CLAMP’s mega-popular manga, X is not without promise. It’s just there’s too much story and not enough anything actually conveyed.

Shiro Kamui’s mother dies, so he returns to the home of his childhood friends Kotori and Fuma. However, the Dragons of Earth want Kamui to join them in their quest to destroy humanity – and the Dragons of Heaven want Kamui to join them in their quest to save humanity (which apparently implies the destruction of the natural environment).
Kotori is abducted by the Dragon of Earth leader Kanoe. Kamui is told by the Dragon of Heaven leader Hinoto that he must become a Dragon of Heaven leader to save Kotori from general destruction (this is illustrated by a record three different depictions of Kotori’s decapitation), while Fuma is told by Kanoe that he must become the opposite of whatever Kamui will become in order to save Kotori from being killed by Kamui.
Fuma takes this on board, and then promptly forgets his character and goes around killing everyone.
The convolutions! They cause the brain to explode!

X has an extremely large amount of characters. The majority of these are introduced in seconds, are involved in fights and then die.
The Dragons of Heaven totally suck at fighting. They have to protect the gates of destruction from the Dragons of Earth, but they all end up dead – or, if they win individual battles, destroy the gate that they protect in the very process. Therefore all of the battles seem largely pointless, with foregone conclusions. Any deaths mean nothing as the characters are essentially strangers. There are several death monologues that might mean something, but without any back story really don’t.
Any connection to Tokyo Babylon is extremely tenuous, as Kimeragi Subaru dies within the first five minutes. That’s not even a spoiler, because Rintaro seems bent on killing everyone of these characters off in the constraints of the film’s 100 minute time-frame.

X is a movie that’s allegedly supposed to make up for its lack of sense with its unparalleled beauty courtesy of master-director Rintaro. However, Manga Entertainment has never been capable of making good DVDs of theatrical anime (a pity, as much of their catalogue are excellent movies along the lines of Wings of Honneamise and Perfect Blue).
On DVD, X looks positively dull and underwhelming. Frequently this film is visually confusing, with fatal battles played out but their outcome cloudy until a character states that one of the combatants is dead several minutes later. Other times, Rintaro is not creative at all. There are far too many instances of split screen shots that are simply dividers. The characters are based on CLAMP’s originals, but they don’t have that normal attractive quality to them. X is way too dark in appearance to be massively visually appealing, and the animated dragons are laughably low-tech.
The costume design is on the more ridiculous side, coming dangerously close to CLAMP’s S & M catalogue. Kanoe looks like she could fall out of her top any time, which would be quite disastrous come the the end of the world.

The voice cast is impressive, but the characters don’t get enough screen time or die too soon to actually say anything. Mitsuishi Kotono’s character gets out all of three lines before she dies for reasons that are not actually specified. The whole cast reads as a who’s who of seiyuu ’96, which leads to much congestion.
The score is practically non-existent, and when it’s there it sounds infuriatingly similar to a classical piece I simply can’t put my finger on.

Still, at the end it’s unclear whether X is a semi-beautiful film that is excellent to those who know the story inside-and-out and want to see choice parts animated, or whether it’s just a bad movie. Either way, the TV series that followed four years after this is supposed to be uniformly awesome, perhaps by way of apology. A chance to see an example of Rintaro’s undeniably excellent work lies in the marvellous Metropolis. When it comes to film making, coherence goes a long way.

Kite

When the price of creative control is that you have to incorporate “X rated material”, you come up with something like Kite.

Kite (named for the flying devices controlled by strings) is about Sawa, a young girl of indeterminate age (she goes to college, but that may be a symptom of this anime featuring sex). When Sawa was
younger still, she arrived home to find her parents dead. Akai, a crooked policeman, takes Sawa in and trains her to become a killer. He also promises to find the murderers. It doesn’t take very long for Sawa to figure out that it was actually Akai who killed her parents, and so she plans her revenge over many years. Meeting Oburi, a fellow assassin, she sees her chance to avenge her parents and the sexual abuse that she has endured.

From that description, it’s quite clear that Akai is not a nice person. Nor, for that matter, is his partner Kanie. Sawa’s only real
personality trait is that burning desire for revenge, but she can have a couple of jokes at the expense of Oburi. Oburi has not had terrible things happen to him, short of being trained as a killer, but he is a directionless squatter. Apparently he lives only to do jobs for Akai, and to work in a convenience store. Unsurprisingly, he too would like to break free to a life of something more than squatting with cats. The two of them bond quite effectively, making for some of this two part OVA’s nicer, warmer moments.

The ending of Kite is a little confusing as it sends extremely mixed messages; the final minute could be read two ways, and director Umetsu Yasuomi’s interview suggests that something good happens but it is hard to see. Whatever the actual outcome, it is certainly abrupt.

The action in Kite, for this was produced as “ultra-violent pornography” (great for the image of anime, although Kite is never cited as a bad example), is hyper to the point of ridiculousness. The weapons that Sawa and Oburi use are not the sort that would be found on the police force. These guns boast delayed explosive shells that simply penetrate. Give them a few seconds and bam, they explode from the inside. What this amounts to is an excuse for a lot of blood. The violence does not feel particularly realistic, as skin probably should not move the way it does here. That said, a
lot of it is wince-inducing, such as a double stab to the foot. Some of the sequences are hilarious, probably intentionally, with the best falling pile-up ever animated on offer here. Certainly, Umetsu should be commended for the beginning of the second episode.

Umetsu has an interesting visual style; bleak, and dark. The violence is nowhere near believable, but his world has that special dull, real sheen about it that draws a viewer in. There are some nice touches, like the best ever fast food outlet name: Make Fat. Also of note is the fact that Oburi works at the convenience store “8”. Not 7-11, just 8.
But the scenery is nothing compared to the character design. Sawa looks dead-eyed when she’s killing, but there’s something about her smile that infuses her with warmth. Similarly, Oburi looks like there’s still some hope in his life. Unsurprisingly, Kanie and Akai look exactly like the evil bastards that they are. Kanie’s eyes are literally dead, bugged out like a chameleon’s. His facial features do not move at all.
In what is perhaps the most offensive aspect of Kite, even if unintentionally, Akai has the most sacrilegious character design ever (well, probably not ever, this is anime). The stretchy skin in the violence may be off-putting, but there’s something right on about the character design that matches the characterisation right down to the ground.

The uncensored version of Kite may be released through Kitty Media, Media Blasters’ hentai label but, despite its Green Bunny production, it is not hentai. There is some near-explicit sex, but these scenes total less than two minutes of the fifty minute running time. Also, while it may be true that some people get off on bad, depraved things (not that I’m editorialising, oh no), the sex is not in the slightest erotic to most sensible tastes. The sex is definitely unpleasant, but it is difficult to imagine Kite without it. That would be rather like missing the point. Without the harsh realities of Sawa’s world, Kite falls apart into generic, silly action anime. The history of abuse is really what grounds this and makes all of the characters’ actions more believable. Obviously this is with the exception of Akai and Kanie, but people who commit such horrible crimes are pretty well beyond explanation anyway.

Kite is good to watch, but it’s about as sexy as Futurama‘s Zapp Brannigan. The fact that the promotional material shouts “EROTIC!” is about as accurate as that captain’s claim. With the exception of the second episode’s set piece, Kite is not enjoyable – it’s a very human piece, with the few joys and all of the depravity that entails.

Lupin III: The Secret of Mamo

Lupin III, the world’s greatest thief, is an obnoxious, lascivious, lovable rogue. The Secret of Mamo captures the true essence of Lupin. This, the first and possibly most accurate, Lupin III movie is excellent as a result.

One must admire a film that is totally cool despite not even revealing its true plot until past half way through. This is because Lupin always has something to occupy his time. In a vampiric country, Lupin is executed. And yet, the master thief lives! Zenigata, the INTERPOL detective assigned to Lupin’s Case, does not believe this for a second.
Meanwhile Fujiko, the object of Lupin’s lust and another thief, uses the master to retrieve a series of obscure artefacts which leads to Lupin’s partners, Jigen and Goemon, abandoning him in disgust.
Lupin is eventually kidnapped by the mysterious Mamo, an egocentric midget who claims to be immortal and to have had a hand in all of history’s major events.
Lupin therefore must survive his predicament, rescue Fujiko from the seduction of eternal life and stop Mamo from ending the Cold War the hard way. All of this is punctuated by helicopter chases (in sewers, no less), run-ins with monster trucks, and a whip-fast tour through art history.

The Secret of Mamo is a fun movie because of its grasp on the absurd, emphasised by its chunky, cool-as-all-get out animation design.
The flow is amazing, never letting up. This film is literally packed, with Lupin heiling Hitler, Jigen being interrogated by a man who may as well be Henry Kissinger, and Goemon performing an amazing triple cut. Beneath this, there’s a surprising amount of substance. The Secret of Mamo is actually quite literate, a philosophy film before philosophy in anime was fashionable. This ranges from the silly, such as an examination of Lupin’s mind that reveals that his only thoughts are of naked women, Zenigata and orange candy, to the serious, like the idea that gods are created through the manipulation of history.

The film implores us to consider also the implications of friendship; Jigen and Goemon abandon Lupin for his remorseless, relentless womanising. They are a trio that should not be broken! The consequences are grievous, forcing the characters to renounce their loves of Marilyn Monroe and Humphrey Bogart.
Yes, indeed, a great deal of this film is random – frequently to the point of confusion. Fujiko’s behaviour seems entirely inconsistent, but it is not if the viewer goes in knowing one thing about her character explicitly: she is permanently stringing Lupin along. Do not take any of her confessions of love seriously lest you want your head to explode!

The production is obviously not modern in the slightest. This sort of animation would not fly nowadays, yet it is some of the most ingenusly stylised animation there is. Lupin is thin and gangly, possibly for sneaking purposes. His insubstantial physique makes his seduction technique all the funnier. Also, for whatever reason, all of the men are incredibly hairy.
There’s something earthy and organic about the animation, as if every little action has been considered. In the car chase scenes the cars may be rough but there is no illusion that the whole thing is moving.

The animators cheat with techniques along the lines of Fujiko’s endless drive through the fields at sunset, and millions of other hard to describe shortcuts. The animation is smooth, no matter how rough the design, and one of the joys of the film is wondering what random event will be thrown in next: the sheer imagination utilised in conveying this film is epic in scale.

Back in the day, the Lupin III ensemble stayed static, but since then there have been many changes to the line-up. The Secret of Mamo boasts the original, traditional cast. Yamada Yasuo charms the pants off of his contemporaries as Lupin and sings the ending themesong – which has something to do with being a master thief and getting girls, but by this point I had switched to VHS and had no translation. It was quite jolly. The opening song is the excellent “Lupin III ’77” (also known as “Dance Mix for Lupin”) which, if you get really confused, sounds like “Eye of the Tiger”.

The Secret of Mamo somehow manages to be a challenging, intellectual film and a base festival of crudities simultaneously. This masterful example of the animated form is a true delight.

No images this time around because I have a defective copy of this DVD that cuts out for the last ten minutes; I had to watch the finale on my old Manga Entertainment UK 1996 dub VHS. That version is a bit suss – Mamo’s voice is ridiculous – but still fun.