Category — Spring 2008

Batman: Gotham Knight will be released on Tuesday, though naturally, a DVD-rip has already hit the internet. I’m one of those guys that loved the Animatrix (after the first Matrix movie, it’s the best thing contributed to that franchise) and Gotham Knight is looking like more of the same. If you need a deal clincher, just know that Studio 4°C has animated one of the segments (”Have I Got A Story For You”). Their Beyond short for the Animatrix was wonderful and ended up becoming my favourite segment (along with “Kid’s Story“) before I even knew the name Studio 4°C. Artsy pretence aside, with this we’ll no doubt be getting Japanese animation that’s fluid, action-packed and stylish, could be hit or miss but an exhilarating showcase for our beloved Annie-May none the less. Soon to be seen on MTV, I bet.

Having been caught up in the euphoria of the spring season, I tried a lot of new anime, probably too much. None of it was abject, but a lot was mediocre and dull, and having since procrastinated over them for a number weeks, I’ve decided to cut my losses and dropped seven that I can no longer even bring myself to download.

Allison & Lillia and Amatsuki are prime examples of what I’m talking about above, as both were about as exciting as staring at a brick-wall for 20 minutes. The first episode of Golgo 13 may as well have been its fiftieth, because I can’t imagine its formulaic plot will end with anything but a poorly animated head-shot. ‘Serious crime drama’ Himitsu - Top Secret lost all its allure when the two male leads were introduced to each other like it was some cheesy yaoi romance, and talking about anime with homosexual subtext, Nabari no Ou didn’t fare much better, yet most frustrating of all was its incoherent (more like schizophrenic) stabs at characterisation. To be honest, I feel like I should be willing to give a bit more time to anime with the pedigree of Real Drive, but for all its big-name recognition, such a boring aesthetic style and some surprisingly high levels of fan-service put me off in a big way. That leaves just Itazura na Kiss, which was probably the one series I’m most loathe to quit and most likely to try again, but, at least for now, its generic premise, archetypal characters and repellent male lead managed to kill my enthusiasm for its latter episodes.

All that and even Toshokan Sensou is hanging by a thread, but something about it (probably just Jen’s enthusiasm) is urging me to continue.

While the bond shared by Patches and Quilt was lovably quaint, this episode, in an allegorical sense, was hard to follow. It didn’t feel as coherent or as meaningful as the previous couple, but seemed half intent on satirising the fashion industry. It was fun, easy to watch and, for once, finished off with a hint of optimism. Of particular note is that the visuals were probably the most surreal yet, with scene after scene cutting from brilliant yellows to depressed greys and thick, scratchy outlines containing some truly odd shapes. From start to finish, it was pure imagination, so creative, and just a joy to watch. Korean Choi Eunyoung was the co-writer, storyboarder, director and animation director for this episode. Eunyoung is female too. There are so few women working within the anime industry that she merits special attention. This could be something that many of the anime fans following Kaiba might have overlooked; though Masaaki Yuasa sits as the “Chief Director” of the series, many of the episodes are being handed off to some of the brightest up-and-coming talents of the anime industry. This is why the style will often shift from one episode to the next, as each artist is given free reign to inject their own creative styles. I would even go so far as to say that this whole planet-of-the-week premise exists merely to offer up the likes of Eunyoung as much artistic freedom as possible. On a related note, the next episode will be handled by an American called Jamie Vickers. Obviously, both Eunyoung and Vickers are foreigners, a fact that not only blurs the very meaning of “Japanese animation”, but suggests that as the global popularity of anime develops, more and more talented artists from outside of Japan are working their way into the industry.

• Track 01: Beginning of an epic adventure. Planets exploding and stars colliding.
• 03: Easy listening, I like the chorus, it’s nice.
• 04: Pumping, theatrical, energetic, awesome, voice is perfect for this kind of song, when artificial JPop sounds good, operatic pop fusion. A genuinely original, futuristic tune.
• 05: Reminds me of a classic adventure movie like Indiana Jones. Dog-fighthing air-craft wouldn’t be the same without these kind of refined, epic strings.
• 06: Triangler is alright, but the vocals are too… flawlessly cute and melodramatic.
• 08: Smooth. Rock. Melodic.
• 09: Piano; it’s lovely. A very tender, playful song, happy and melancholy.
• 10: Vividly remember this from the anime; a really beautiful song. Vocals are so sweet, and at times it’s almost accapella. Kanno at her best.
• 15: A lot of the recent songs have had a notably foreign, cultural aesthetic. This was Chinese.
• 16: Harp. Elegant theme for Alto.
• 17: More Indiana Jones; it’s very heroic, but this time has a giant monster feeling too. Totally apt for a space opera anime like Macross Frontier.
• 18: More epic space opera, thrilling Star Wars-esque stuff; Luke Skywalker about to blow up the Death Star vibe. Actually, it reminds me of those great Christopher Reeves Superman flicks too; has quiet moments of reflection before launching itself into the sun.
• 19: Lovecraft. Horrific, unforeseen, unfathomable.
• 20: Piano, thoughtful, emotionally provocative. Feels like a harsh decision has been made; living with the consequences of tragedy.
• 21: All encompassing, I get the feeling this is the genuiene theme of Macross Frontier. Same vocals as track 10, but the song is bigger this time, voice backed by orchestral sounds. Kind of like “Voices” from Macross Plus, but with a bit more studio sheen. I prefer the earlier version, if just because it’s rawer, more empathetic and fragile.
• 22: Fluffy white clouds, blue sky crawling.
• 24: Sparkling and theatrical but a little too emotionally artificial for my tastes, almost cheesy. Would be a fitting end for a soap opera.

Though it didn’t offer up of the kind of visual poetry I’ve come to associate with the most transcendent scenes of Kaiba, the fourth episode was just as affecting as ever. The bleak final moments, in particular, left me with a bitter taste. A lot is said about treasure. Treasure can be gold and diamonds, or a photo and a flower; a special memory. Because the boys in this episode are so emotionally introverted (selfish, basically), their understanding of other people, even family, is tainted; from their limited perspectives, their Grandpa’s treasure has to mean wealth; it can’t possibly be anything else, as this concept of being in love, or of cherishing family, is so completely alien to them. In the end, they die pathetic deaths, without a friend in the world, because, with their selfish lives, they can’t even remotely relate to others. It feels so sad, like such a waste, because no-one is born truly alone; “The world’s the same all over, big or small.” said Grandma, “What truly matters is the size of your heart.”

For such a sad episode, by far and away the best, most cohesive in the series up to this point, it’s notable that the heart-shattering story is left almost completely unspoken, yet, piecing together Chroniko’s life and ultimately, death, just as her Aunt’s lost memories fade back into perspective, isn’t difficult at all. Aided with its lovely, whimsical soundtrack, Kaiba speaks a universal visual language; the colours, the weather, the landscape, they scream of loss, regret and nostalgia. This episode is about, if nothing else, the value of memory, not necessarily the every-day, mundane ones, but those of your closest friends and family. Removing all of those precious moments, selling them like books from a shelf, inevitably reduces the effected relationships to loveless, null apathy. The way this episode finishes, the culmination of the Aunt’s introspective realization of guilt and loss through elegant music and fast-returning memories, is one of the most emotionally evocative and down-right sad sequences of anime I’ve seen for a very long time.

With the first episode finished, it’s no longer enough for Kaiba to merely look original. This follow-up wasn’t as visceral or as exciting as the first, but one scene in-particular struck me as really quite lovely. Nine minutes in, ‘Warp’ and friends, flying high in their aircraft, glimpse out of near-by window. What they see is a river of gleaming ‘Roe’ (a liquid-golden egg of human memory that appears after that person’s physical body has expired) floating into the vast expanse above. As animated art alone, scored with a soft, melancholy tune, it’s a moment that looks and feels wonderful, yet it takes on an added poignancy because we know that every egg, and the sky is full of them, represents a unique person. As far as I can tell, the Roe have no direction, no identifying features, they just float aimlessly, carrying their memories, destined for nowhere. Is this a comment on life? If so, I suppose it’s sounding dreary and hopeless, but the scene itself feels as beautiful as explained. It’s true that there is something small and insignificant about one individual egg (person) in a thousand, yet each one gleams golden in the sky, just the same as any other, so pretty, adding to the scene. Without the Roe, essentially, without life, the sky would be dull and empty. I’m reminded of a favourite line from Kino’s Journey; “The world is not beautiful, therefore it is”.

Watching the debut episode of Kaiba, I found it hard to shake recollections of the works of children’s author Roald Dahl. Many of his books are undeniably childish, but they boast an organic, grotesque quality too. Often Dahl’s premises are colourful and funny, but his characters can be ghastly, horrific monsters, vividly evil. It’s quite fascinating to me how perhaps the most beloved children’s author of all-time was able to craft his scary, disturbing stories within the genre of kids literature to such great acclaim. This Dahlian edge slices through Kaiba too, in that its simplistic design could fool many into thinking this is a children’s cartoon, yet the moral quality of its inhabitants is, at best, ambiguous. Considering this sugar-coated depiction of depravity, Kaiba sets out to be as deliciously subversive as Dahl; gleefully dragging us into a nightmare realm of fear and violation by betraying our aesthetic assumptions.

Murasaki is an odd little girl. Disurbing, even. Last night, I watched episodes 3 and 4 of Kure-nai and it’s striking just how composed and eloquent she is for a 7-year-old, so much so that, at some points, I started to question her purpose in the story. After all, if she isn’t a realistic character, what purpose is she serving? A proxy for the likes of director Kou Matsuo, perhaps? Obviously, Murasaki looks like a young child, all innocent and wide-eyed, and therefore, she isn’t expected to play by society’s unspoken rules of etiquette. She can point out how hypocritical and self-centered the adult-world often is without much reproach. Specifically, I’m thinking of when she steps up to those granny-bashing train-punks and gets all worked up; it’s almost as if Matsuo is exploiting her unique perspective (as a child) to criticize Japan’s lack of morality.

If I’m ever watching an anime series I’m destined to love, there is always that one moment, typically unexpected, of almost transcendental catharsis that pushes me over the edge. It’s what happens when a story goes from being just another mecha anime I might enjoy, like Gundam 00, to a story that’s suddenly exploding with life, ambition, emotion. If you hadn’t guessed already, I’m talking about Macross Frontier, episode the third.

Looking out over hazy-blue clouds, Alto throws his paper plane into the sky above. The flimsy wings falter against the wind, but it’s flying, gliding high and swooping low. It’s a metaphorical moment we can grasp because, after all, most of us dream of doing something important with our lives, but for all those grand intentions, we’re still just paper planes relying on the wind; weak, fragile, hanging by a thread of hope, waiting for that breeze to carry us away. Sometimes it’s best to take a risk and jump, to chase what you desire with every ounce of your being. Rise or fall, that’s a really inspiring sentiment, right? And that’s why I watch anime. Also, as my blogging is a transient sequence of ‘wrongs’ and ‘rights’, I was wrong, on this evidence, to slightly criticize Yoko Kanno’s musical efforts for Frontier because Ranka’s heart-felt accapella turn in this episode was, in a word, beautiful. High up on a hill, singing to yourself, it’s kind of like blogging, really.