Sky Crawlers Premiere in NYC

Anime director Mamoru Oshi (Ghost in the Shell, Patlabor, Blood the Last Vampire, Jin-Roh: the Wolf Brigade) has been off the radar for quite some time. On Friday night, December 12th, the Lincoln Center of NYC became the only place in the country to check out his newest piece, SKY CRAWLERS.

Based on a novel, Sky Crawlers is a story of perseverance and the banality of an existence centered on combat. There is a war, a struggle between two nations happening in the skies above us - but it's not our problem. Yuichi Kannami is a top fighter pilot who has just transferred to a new base. New plane, new missions, new crew to meet. And, like every other pilot there, he is a Kildred: an immortal who will never grow up. These genetically-engineered living dolls trudge through their day-to-day routines, repeating tasks and only feeling the thrill of life while fighting in the skies.

Peter Pan references set aside, this movie drags at the pace of a coma. Harold Pinter himself would admit the film's minimalistic approach is a bit too slow. Even the dog-fight scenes between the fighter planes seems to lack immediacy and drive. On top of that, Tetsuya Nishio's (Naruto, Jin-Roh) symmetric and almost flat character design gives little complexity to the film's aesthetic. The coloration is bland, holding an almost salt-worn quality, which only drives Oshi's point home about how dull a Kildred's life is. Without the aerial combat, this film could have been made live-action in the 1960's and no one would have known the difference.

On the big screen, the fighter plane sequences are dazzling. The sharpness of the 3D is so well done, it's easy to forget you're watching an anime. Every bullet shot tears across the screen, and for the first time, bullet-time met air planes: Max Payne would be pleased.

Yet, pacing set aside, Oshi has created a fascinating proposal: a world that uses a never-ending war as a means of keeping the peace. The lackluster nature of the immortal Kildreds only smooths out their passion and personal drives, keeping them willing to fight. As the story progresses, Yuichi becomes close with his mysterious captain, Kusanagi, and the two develop a strange cat-and-mouse/friendly fire relationship as they delve into the others' past secrets. All of their questions and searching lead back to their mission: to fly until shot down, until confronted by the mysterious and untouchable Teacher.

Subtext and subtlety are more important to this film than the amazing plane fights. The bare minimum script leaves small clues in an almost "Memento" style, that does not need to be pieced together in order to follow the film. What matters in the symbolism. The children cannot surpass the Teacher, the "father" figure who taunts them silently from above. The Kildred's lack of drive for life causes them to shut down their hearts, blur their memories, and live half-consciously just to stave off their immortal boredom. If only they'd take the cues from every vampire story every written: IMMORTALITY IS BORING.

This film could only be made by Mamoru Oshi: cryptic, distant and profound. Again, he has created a piece that provokes analysis and discussion rather than cosplaying fangirls.

School Days

“At first, I was satisfied with looking…sitting next to her…just having lunch with her made me nervous. I wonder when it started…when I wanted to touch her, when I wanted to hold her…I ended up not being able to control myself with just that. I wanted more…more…and it turned into my selfishness.” – Makoto Itou, episode 12.

Half of me wants to recommend School Days because of the frightening bait-and-switch and treatment of high school sexual promiscuity. The other half wants to know how a series this twisted was ever pitched to a producer. Perchance it went something like this:
“Thank you for meeting with me, Mister Producer.”
“So let’s hear your idea, TNK studios.”
“Well, we wanna do a high school romance. We wanna start casual and light-hearted… then rape half the cast.”
“…go on…”
Makoto Itou has a secret crush on the beautiful, shy girl that rides the train with him every morning to school. She is Katsura Kotonoha: quiet, clean, and beautiful. One of Makoto’s classmates, the free-spirited Sekai, collaborates with him to help him get his mojo working. School Days begins with the light-heartedness of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, develops slower than Julius Caesar, and switches gears to spiral into an ending that would make Othello squirm.
Beautiful animation is paired with unusually overt dialog. The director is very careful to emphasize the character’s cell phone texting as their sole means of honest self-expression, since everyone is lying to someone else in this series just to keep Makoto and Sekai happy together. There is almost no music, but the sound of trains and ringing cell phones sets the lackluster pace of the series.
In order to make Makoto more comfortable around Katsura, Sekai puts him through special training…and that’s when things turn ecchi. Sekai literally throws herself at Makoto, saying that it’s “just practice” and not to be taken seriously. But of course she secretly loves him and longs to make Makoto hers. Now comes Makoto’s inner struggle: does he go for the girl who gets dirty with him, or for the girl he wants to get dirty with?
This is where things get complicated, and for the first half of the series, there is memorable (though sluggish) sexual tension and believability in Makoto’s infidelity toward both Sekai and Katsura. Whom does he like? Answer: both. Unfortunately, despite its poignancy on love and sex, School Days will never see the light of American television; you can thank the gratuitous sex, nudity and rape. That’s right, the “r” word – couldn’t have a show about betrayal and relationships with the “r” word.
By the story’s end, Makoto has the best year ever, having more affairs than Zeus, and less regret than a guest on Jerry Springer. I do not particularly recommend this series to experienced fans (let alone newbies); it’s just a bit too torpid. This anime is a carefully composed cautionary tale about the fruits of lust, and, though a bit exaggerated, a clear statement on the confusing physical dependence of adolescent sexual awakening.

Origin: Spirits of the Past

When Funimation claims a gem from Gonzo, they put their heart and soul into doing a great job. Origin: Spirits of the Past is a great gateway anime for people waiting for the next Miyazaki flick.
The story is post-apocalyptic and easy enough to follow. Years ago, “the forest” became a dragon and attacked from its secret base: the moon! Now, the remains of mankind live in the overgrowth ruins of toppled-over cities, trying desperately to coexist with a very dominant and sentient forest. If they do not respect the forest’s authori-tah, the forest will go Swamp Thing on mankind’s ass and steal back the remaining water. Our protagonist, a young boy named Agito, discovers a girl from the past sealed in suspended animation, Toola. Together, they will learn what caused Earth’s drastic shift and discover a way to bring the forest and man together. For hardcore environmentalists, this is yet another film that caters to your self-righteous dogmas.
Origin is a bit of Princess Mononoke without the animals, a bit of Naussica without the flying, and has a walking volcano fortress. Thus, something for everyone. It follows a perfect three-act structure, though several scenes and character choices and seem unearned and rushed for the sake of preserving an hour-and-a-half runtime. The visuals are astounding, from tidal waves to the vehicle designs to the encompassing forest, which is as gentle as it is hostile. This film really captures the beauty of a skeletal sky-scraper sheathed beneath a mossy skin. The soundtrack has the heartfelt ambience you’d expect from an anime aimed at Japanese teenagers. Which is fine for me considering I still think of myself as a teenaged Japanese girl.
The American voice acting is superb, and the script matches very well with absolutely no awkward translation errors, so kudos to John Burgmeier’s work. Burgmeier also provides the voice of Shunack, the film’s very believable and sympathetic villain. Great performances also spring from the well of talents named Christopher Patton (Agito) and Carrie Savage (Toola).
Origin does well to create an original world of decay and growth, destruction and creation. It does very well as a cautionary tale about the corruption of power (both by the forest and man’s technological drive for success.) Frankly I wasn’t expecting such a well-constructed argument. The philosophy of Origin lies somewhere between Transcendentalism and Buddhist detachment from past desires; and oddly enough the difficult dramatic decision lies with both Agito and Toola. Still, in the end, forest=good, fire=bad, drop-kicking a flaming hunk of magma=badass. This was an all-around excellent visual romp that planted its seed in my heart and took root.

Basilisk

“To the one I love; prepare to die.”

A time of ninjas and shoguns. The 400-year-old peace pact between the warring Iga and Kouga ninja clans has been abolished. Now, to decide the political fate of Japan, the top ten of both clans must battle to the bitter bloody end. Yes!
Tragically caught in the middle are Gennosuke and Oboro, leaders of each clan, who must bury their love and hopes of peace to carry out the bloody fate of their clans. No, not love! It’s West Side Story without the dancing. Yes! It’s Romeo and Juliet except Romeo could use Samurai Jack as dental floss! Halleluiah!
What sets Basilisk apart is its stunning production budget. Fast-moving action scenes are balanced with white-outs, magnificent landscape shots and surrealist super-powers that make Naruto’s displays of power look like a dollar-store Christmas wreath.
Basilisk, despite being a ninja show about ninja blowing apart other ninja using ninja techniques, is loaded with driven, believable and empathetic characters. By halfway through the series, when we are down to the final five on either side, trust has been betrayed, loyalties have been forsook, and slaughter is impending. Yes! Granted, the ninja powers defy logic in a way that would make Stan Lee blush, but it doesn’t worry about creating a magic system for the sake of marketing and video game copyrights. Sure, the old guy with the elf ears can stretch his arms infinitely and the paraplegic has a 12-foot sword down his throat, but so what – bloodshed!
The deaths can be just as sudden and surprising as the narrow escapes. You feel the imminent danger in every scene, and the consequences are palpable. These are awesome fights that are spaced out very well with compelling, though predictable, scenes of loyalty, fury, and startling compassion.
Funimation grabbed a hold of this series as soon as they could, though its constant soft core rape scenes and oceans of blood will keep it off Adult Swim indefinitely. I chose to watch the whole series dubbed, and it turned out far easier to follow than the subtitles. Though some characters seem mismatched, and the choppy rhythm falls short as it many dubs, it still holds together well. What hurts Basilisk is the melodramatic performance on both ends for the part of Oboro, who is sadly a flat, generic innocent girl, and there is only so much you can do with imaginative dialogue like, “I love you too much to fight you,” and “Anakin, you’re breaking my heart.” Hint, hint, George Lucas.
I didn’t expect much from Basilisk, but now I have seen its true power, and I will never underestimate Gonzo again.

Cat Soup

Cat Soup

Not every film needs clever dialogue or a plot…but it helps. Cat Soup, the half-hour surrealist journey and nothing short of an amazing drug trip. The story follows two adorable cats who quest to find the missing half of the older sister-cat’s soul; from there it derails. A short piece with practically no dialogue, it has won several awards across the world, including “Best Short Film” at the 6th Fantasia Film Festival and “Excellence Prize” at Japan’s Media Arts Festival. Despite its international acclaim, I was surprised at its obscurity here in the states.
Cat Soup’s artistic success became a total surprise for director Mr. Blank. To him, Cat Soup is an animated tribute to a bizarre manga called Nekojiru, which is to Hello Kitty as Bizarro is to Superman. What surprised me was the dry treatment of injury and bloodshed in this film. While the soundtrack creates the ambiance of a child’s bedtime story, there is a significant amount of mutilation. Cat Soup meets many elements right in the center: cuteness and sadism, life and death, creation and destruction. It straddles a strange line between innocence and deviance, particularly for vegetarians or animal rights groups.
Some of the chapters run a little too parallel to the Bible for comfort: the flood of Genesis, the reversal world-destruction of the Book of Revelations, the fat man in bondage from…the Gospel according to Dr. Frank-N-Furter.
Being in the center of so much visual chaos, I can’t say I like or dislike Cat Soup. I wouldn’t have another spoonful without administering certain illegal stimuli, but I won’t discourage you readers from the joy of experimenting.
The jewel of this experimental movement is the imagery, loaded with enough dreamlike surrealism and symbolism to make Freud and Carl Jung soil themselves. Artist Salvador Dali was one of the aesthetic influences, and it shows, especially the sequence in the desert where the two cats hitch a ride inside a water elephant…take that as literally as you can.
Obviously, Cat Soup is not aimed at everyone, or anyone in particular. As director Tatsuo Sato (Ninja Scroll series and Shigofumi: Letters of the Departed) marks in his commentary, “just enjoy the imagery” because “you have to use your brain to watch this” odd, discolored jewel. It is funny in a detached way, cute in a creepy way, and downright confusing in every way. Cat Soup: to be eaten with a knife.

Ryoko's Case Files

When Tom Jones sang “She’s a Lady,” he was singing to this lady.
Ryoko’s Case File has come and gone, and with the exception of the title character, I may not remember either event. Though light-hearted, episodic and glazed over with an aristocratic and political tone, the only lasting kick is the one provided by Miss Ryoko herself.
Ryoko Yakushiji (don’t try to say it out loud, you’ll crack your teeth) is the superintendent of JACES, Japan’s private, rentable secret police. This means she operates on her own whim without consequence. Debonair, ruthless and classy, Ryoko’s arrogance has major cougar appeal. Using her seemingly unlimited monetary resources and personal connections, Ryoko travels Japan to stir up trouble. By her side, whether he likes it or not, is her self-proclaimed bodyguard/baby-sitter/chauffer/shopping-bag-carrier Jin’ichirou Izudami. Together they solve mysteries of a vaguely sci-fi setting.
Think of it this way. Imagine X-Files, but Scully has emasculated Moulder into paying her bar tab, accompany her to pick out shoes, and occasionally shooting a giant snake. Though much of the series is narrated through Izudami’s eyes, his bland characterization provokes no empathy, and his cluelessness doesn’t help the series either. Because Izudami has no idea what is going on, neither do we; but the alternative of being inside Ryoko’s head would be a Lovecraftian descent into unspeakable horror.
The pacing lags in this episodic mystery series, and the romantic interest between Izudami and his boss is a moot point due to her overt and his inability to discover clues. The mysteries themselves lack detail, drive and creativity. Sure, it’s a giant snake or a mind-controlling tree (which are cool in themselves), but the drama falls dead in its tracks once Ryoko appears, solves the mystery, shoots it in the head, and leaves without any logical explanation.
On the plus side, some of the supporting characters help add color, but no one is capable of out-shining Ryoko. Her self-appointed rival, Yukiko Muromachi, often stands in her way (literally) to tell her to stop investigating government officials. Their rivalry sparks (literally) in an orgy (figuratively) of pranks and competition. JACES’ office staff, a collection of dismissible stereotypes, is often thrown in the middle of Ryoko’s political drama. I also enjoyed Ryoko’s ninja-level badass French maids; although, like the rest of the series, they made little sense.
Ryoko’s Case File does have some very funny moments centered on Ryoko’s impulsive, manipulative and subtly risqué behavior. If the rest of the cast could hold a candle to her attitude and fearless arrogance, this would have been a great ride leaving me waiting happily for a second season. But as it is, a weak mystery show with static characters and an imaginary plot, I remain unmotivated.

Paranoia Agent

You should know the name Satoshi Kon. Millennium Actress, Perfect Blue, Tokyo Godfathers, Paprika? The Hitchcock of anime decided after his first three movies that he had more ideas to play with, so what did he do? He dumped all his unused stories into a 13-episode mini-series that does to society what a starfish does to a fiddler crab. Look it up on Wikipedia – it’s awesome! And Paranoia Agent isn’t that bad, either.

The surrealist psychological drama centers upon the mystery of Shonen Bat (‘Lil Slugger in English), a mysterious young boy terrorizing emotionally cornered citizens with a bent, golden baseball bat. Ah, little league tee-ball; those were the days. Our lead detectives have no leads and each victim leads only to more dead ends as the murky legend of Shonen Bat reaches mythic, nearly super-natural proportions. The strangest part of these attacks: the victims lose their worldly troubles; their head traumas make them happier. Not very hard for the average Japanese cram school student, let me tell you. So just when you start to fear Shonen Bat, you start to respect him…then go right back to into being terrified, like a circus clown with a flamethrower.

Kon roped-in Seishi Manakami for the script. His goal was to shift perspectives by changing the main character in each episode, giving viewers a macrocosm of Shonen Bat’s influence. Each character gives a very personal POV into their individual case, personal struggle, and eventual encounter with Shonen Bat. Some episodes can be watched on their own as their characters have little relevance to the larger story. Such episodes are magnificent fillers, but Kon’s fingerprints are all over each of them. His grasp of human emotion, psychology and story structure are frighteningly accurate, which makes the black humor in Paranoia Agent even funnier and more poignant. If you laughed at Heath Leger in The Dark Knight, you’ll get a few sick chuckles out of episode eight.

What draws me to Paranoia Agent, from the old-fashioned detective to the reserved animator to the schizophrenic tutor to the fallen golden child to the lecherous reporter, was the pathos developed with every character. Every character is a case study for the psychological pressures of modern Japan. The situations are very believable and the stress of Tokyo almost becomes its own character as students, teachers, and the elderly are all equally pressed from all sides by the struggle to match society’s expectations.

As a testament to Satoshi Kon’s micromanagement prowess as a director, every episode features a repetitive sound that sets the pace and structure for the story. Speaking of sound, the bizarre pseudo-techno, dreamlike music of Susumu Hirasawa (Paprika, Berserk, and Millennium Actress) adds another level to this visual mind-screw into a scrambled but beautiful mess, like a naked rugby game during a hurricane.

During his interview on the first DVD, Kon mentioned his fascination over a child’s ability to create a stomach ache just to avoid going to school. Thematically, avoiding responsibility is the social and emotional paralysis that summons Shonen Bat. If you watch this series and keep “accountability” in mind, you will understand every symbolic shot in this series.

Obviously not for little kids, but this masterwork deserves at least a gander from any fan of Hitchcock, Memento, or Misery. For the ridiculously low price you can find it for, it deserves a spot on your shelf. The English dub is unmatched in its execution. It is exciting, dangerous, and visually dazzling stories like this that keep me watching anime.