To be honest, I doubt there is much I can say that will convince you to take a look at Armored Trooper Votoms. It’s an old series, with a heavy emphasis on war. Chirico is no Kamina. The characters are gritty and unrefined. When it can be hard to sit through just the 1 episode, 52 feels impossible, so I couldn’t blame anyone for not seeing in this series what I do, because it is most definitely an acquired taste; it’s just that I have acquired it.
I know it has been a long time since I published anything, but I hope you haven’t given up on me just yet. There is warmth in these embers still, I can feel it. I just need stoke them up is all, with a bit of hard work and guts.
Mecha anime has always been a bit hit or miss for me. I’ll often find that I’m not as attracted to the mecha as I am to the science fiction stories they inhabit. That is to say, I enjoy a lot of good mecha anime because I enjoy a lot of good science fiction. I suppose it was inevitable, then, that I would eventually stumble over the works of a certain Ryosuke Takahashi, one of the founding fathers of the ‘real robot’ genre. In recent times, he has directed the likes of Blue Gender and Flag, but the majority of his most influential anime was created during the Eighties, one of which happens to be ‘Blue Comet SPT Layzner‘ (1985).
As of this post, only 9 episodes have been fansubbed, but I liked it enough to have watched them all this past weekend. I wish I could say that I’d always planned to watch Layzner, but the truth is that the recent batch torrent attracted my attention because the series has a cool name. The same thing happened with ‘Legend of the Galactic Heroes,’ too, for shame!
It’s the eve of the latest spring season, but I’m still playing catch up with a lot of last year’s finest. Last week it was Xam’d, and this week it’s Michiko e Hatchin and Toradora.
I’m only too aware that the anime community is driven by an insatiable desire for ‘newness’, and I’m really excited by some of this new anime too, but there has always been a feeling that a more considered, ‘concentrated’ and, dare I say it, slower viewing style is the ideal way to go. It’s true that sometimes a good series is impossible to resist, but I’m also thinking that there is so much more to gain from taking in only one series at a time.
Such is the way I’m approaching most anime these days. If nothing else, at least I’ll have the opportunity to write about something different each week, and this time, one of those things happens to be Michiko e Hatchin.
Since Shinichiro Watanabe was attached to it, this was one of my most anticipated anime of last year, but generally speaking, I would have watched it anyway, because, basically, Michiko e Hatchin looks really cool. It has a punk rock style, with a strong emphasis on things like fashion; the clothes are ever changing, the hair is messy and the voices are lazy. As if to suggest it couldn’t give two shits about whether you like it or not, it’s like the perpetually sneering, Johnny Rotten of anime.
If style was all that mattered, then this would be perfect, but to really admire something, I need characters to care about and a story to be fascinated by, too. Michiko e Hatchin has none of these things and as such, it ends up feeling ever so empty and aimless. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it, because I was able to watch all 22 episodes in one week, so, obviously, I found it entertaining and beautiful to look at, but reflecting on it now, it just feels like there is nothing left to say. The fusion of anime and South American culture is a cool idea, but may be too much emphasis was placed on recreating the visual style and tropes of, for example, Brazilian cinema, to the detriment of a good story.
Then we have Toradora. I watched the final four episodes this morning and not expecting much at all, I was surprised by the impact it wrought on me. I’ve been back and forth with my opinion of Toradora for a while now, but, undeniably, the finale was hugely involving. We had the soulful dreaming of characters like Ryuuji and Taiga, Minorin’s conflicted smile and Ami’s desperate loneliness, each of them contemplating the state of their lives, while searching for happiness in indirect and painful directions. I lost a lot of faith in the series when it descended into cheesy Christmas songs and illogical plot twists, but the finale won me back over. It may be a generic set-up, but, in the end, Toradora was an honest and heartfelt drama. I couldn’t ask for any more.
The problem with writing an anime blog for any length of time is that I’m prone to repeating myself. I’ve had this ache to write about something, anything, over the last month or so, but there are only so many times I can say “this is good, that is bad” without feeling as though I’m running in circles, writing about anime for the sake of being an anime blogger. I don’t want to go down that road, I want this to be like a natural impulse, something that I’m compelled to do by an honest desire to share my enthusiasm with you. Nothing else.
That is why this post exists. I haven’t stopped watching anime, or anything as dramatic as that, it’s just that my mind has been blank. I’ve been waiting for something to shake me out of that apathy, and it turns out that that something is Xam’d: Lost Memories.
It’s not just that the animation is superb, or that the soundtrack is evocative, or even that the characters are great. It’s everything. The world-building, the whimsical adventure, the sudden bursts of brutality. I adore it because it reminds me of Eureka Seven and Nausicaa, that it makes clear nods towards Miyazaki’s synthesis of nature and fantasy, the sweeping landscapes and complex technologies of a strange new world. It’s so nostalgic for me; a story I can’t help but treasure dearly.
I’ve spent this last week navigating my way through all 26 episodes, and even then, I must admit, it has been difficult to follow. Considering its strange terminologies and complex foreign cultures, this has to be the hardest fantasy anime I’ve seen since Seirei no Moribito, and without ever pausing for reflection, it forges ahead breathlessly with the story. There is little time wasted on explanation or flashback, we’re just dropped right in to the centre of a world war and expected to keep up. In its slower moments, characters dream of their past adventures, regret old battles and wistfully sigh over lost loves, but all we have to go on are painful scars, a name or a place. That’s the thing about Xam’d, really, almost as if it has invented its own language, it speaks in riddles and poetry, and like the best of fantasies, it feels deep. One might compare it to a glass of vintage wine, a subtle taste nurtured over years of careful fermentation. Xam’d is a story in a bottle, a history fermented over thousands of years, a bitter-sweet taste.
It’s bitter because there is no easy way to save the world. Things like religion get in the way. Racism, child soldiers and suicide bombings. All of these things lead to tragedy. There is no escaping the fact that a lot of people die in this show; they inflict horrible wounds on each other and die in gruesome ways, and for 26 episodes straight, there is no end to it. Friends become enemies for stupid, petty reasons. Resentment and hatred boil to the surface. There is no logical reason for it, and only chaos that follows it.
Yet, it’s sweet because there are still people around with the heart to smile. Against all the odds, Akiyuki and Haru fall in love and are reunited, while, time and time again, Nakiami throws herself in harms way so that others may live. This one particular scene is stunning; Akiyuki’s mother runs and runs down the street, scraping her bare feet on the pavement, desperate to catch one last glimpse of her departing son.
There’s so much hatred in Xam’d, but so much love too. It’s vibrant and full of life, just look at how it has been drawn, it’s beautiful. Pretty like a fairy tale.
Some anime are dark and depressing, others are romantic and heart-wrenching. One Piece is a story of friendship, chasing dreams, and smiling; honestly, it is a joy to behold, to listen as Brook plays his favourite song; the music has a feeling of nostalgia. The Straw-Hats’ celebrations are always moments of sublime happiness, which is something that One Piece has always captured so well, as after such a long, hard journey, it’s only right to reflect on the adventure, and, of course, to smile.
But Brook cries instead, because his dearest Laboon has waited nearly 50 years to be reunited with him. Meanwhile, just a matter of days before, Zoro and Sanji offered to trade their lives in return for their friends. All of them were unconscious, Zoro nearly dies, and few know why. It’s a secret. Yohohoho.
It’s hard to explain how I feel about Casshern Sins. It’s way beyond anything else I’ve seen this year. More than just another good anime series, more than just entertainment, I find it is engaging, evocative and inspiring, perched somewhere in-between the surreal, fable-like quality of Kino’s Journey and the philosophical melancholy of Mushishi. After every episode, I’m excited, my mind is filled with possibilities and ideas, and I really feel like I’ve just seen something wonderful. I can only hope that I’m capable of relaying those feelings to you. For over two years I’ve been writing on this anime blog, all for anime like Casshern Sins.
Thoughts after: Episode 6
Venturing deeper into the dystopian, decaying depression of Casshern’s strange situation, those that surround him are petrified of dying, but without knowing death, can one ever feel truly alive? Just like how a flower so pretty can only be that way in comparison to an ugly weed, one can only grasp the value of his life after realizing that, some day, he will die. After all, without death, life has no meaning, thus, regardless of Luna’s end, and whether or not it was against her will at all, by dying, she has seemingly graced her people with a gift so precious, mortality. Suddenly, the immortal feel a thirst for life and a desperation to live, and this, I think, is the point of Casshern Sins. It can be so sombre and nostalgic, but it’s hard to deny that the end of the world has rarely looked as beautiful. Ironic, really.
Episode 7
Somewhere in-between this endless expanse of desert and open blue sky is a place without rules and purpose, it is where we find the woman of the tall tower. She wants to think that in this place, in this dying world, her aimless life is still worth living. She rings her bell, where the view is wonderful and the Earth is really pretty, and it resounds with her will to live, as if screaming, “Look at me! I am alive!” Like an artist, she has built this expression of her spirit on the horizon, it’s her tower, the proof of her existence for all to see, and it’s wonderful that people may finally understand that feeling, that this dying world is still beautiful.
Episode 8
When life is tough, to hope and dream can be the hardest thing, yet all it takes is a passage of writing, an episode of anime or a two-minute song; such a tiny moment in our lives, so fleeting, yet it can unleash such a potent feeling. Do we all have a reason to live? And a dream to follow? Like a theatrical performer, Casshern elegantly runs, jumps and dives through an army of hopeless fiends, inspired to protect someone precious, the singer Janis. People wait in the music hall to be inspired, for just a few minutes, to escape into imagination and to dream of an exciting future. Her performance is art at its most vital, more than mere entertainment, to be inspired is to find nothing less than a reason to live.
This past weekend was spent watching anime, lots and lots of anime, and below you can read my findings. Having come perilously close to losing my sanity at several points over the last few days, the scariest thing is that there is still so much I’m waiting to see, not least of all the majority of what was included in my autumn preview.
9. Kannagi
Listen up, otaku! Do you want a girlfriend, but struggle with the ladies? Perhaps you’re having trouble meeting that perfect girl? Yes? Well, here is my advice.
Make your own!
It’s really that simple! All you need is some wood and a chisel! Craft her image on the wood and plant it in the ground, wait a few minutes and that’s it! The rest should take care of itself! Added bonuses include that she doesn’t have parents, loves to watch anime and is really cute, so, no doubt you’ll be screaming ‘MOEEE!!!’ for the rest of the week. Of course, if you don’t like her, you can always plant another one and start collecting a harem instead!
Short review: Really nice animation ruined by a thinly-veiled, leering observation of the fairer sex.
8. Ga-Rei -Zero-
Despite ending with such an impressively bleak twist of fate, I must point out that the opening 20-odd minutes of Ga-Rei -Zero- were no more than a pale imitation of Blassreiter, totally bereft of enthusiasm and creativity. Most worryingly, for what is supposed to be an exciting action series, the fight choreography was particularly disappointing, with any number of cliche gun poses and faux-cool characters riding-in on their motorbikes to save the day. It came off as trying too hard to be cool, yet the episode’s conclusion is such a shock that I’m hesitant to completely write it off.
7. Hyakko
A saccharine, light-hearted comedy about a quartet of young girls making their tentative first steps into Japanese high-school. They get lost in-between classes and meet each other wandering around empty buildings.
The first episode of Hyakko wasn’t particularly substantial, but the characters were engaging and pleasant, while the art style was bright and energetic. It’s a typical Japanese slice of life that seems happy to revel in being young and nostalgic. It may be a slightly bland take on fledgling friendship, but I found it easy to watch.
6. Gundam 00 S2
Ever since My-HiME, the much maligned ‘train-wreck’ tag has become synonymous with Sunrise, and though we might complain as if they produce some of the worst anime ever, we all seem to enjoy the fruits of their labour anyway.
It’s time we faced the truth. Sunrise is the Hollywood studio of the anime industry. Their work is fun and entertaining; probably a bit stupid and superficial too, but fun and entertaining none the less.
Gundam 00 is junk food for anime fans, the kind of well animated, colorful series we’ve all decided to love or loathe. Action, mecha, cute girls, pretty boys, politics. It’s an absolutely mass-market formula for success, albeit darker than Code Geass, with much more emphasis on the individual grunts of war, but obviously, that’s all fairly irrelevant in a show like this, where the terrorists have pink hair.
Basically, I’ll be on this train along with everyone else. It should be fun, whether it crashes or not.
5. Toradora!
Comparisons to Honey & Clover seem valid, though if anything, Toradora! is much more like Nodame Cantabile, right down to how the lead boy Ryuuji finds himself being compelled, out of a mixture of fear and pity, to cook and clean for lead girl Taiga. She lives up to her tsundere reputation from the start and strikes me as infuriatingly rude. It was really frustrating watching Ryuuji suffer through her constant volleys of abuse without throwing anything back, and indeed, whether or not you can enjoy Toradora! much at all probably depends on your tolerance of her unchecked abrasiveness. All that said and I must admit that I really enjoyed this first episode. The characters felt authentic and heartfelt, and in such a potentially dramatic series, it’s really important to care about the characters. Obviously, I do, and that’s a good sign, I think.
4. Casshern Sins
The first episode of Casshern Sins was fantastic, and after Kaiba, yet another beautifully animated, stylish science fiction anime from Madhouse.
The story? Planet Earth is (apparently) devoid of natural life and now controlled by violent robots, who are themselves fast rusting away into nothingness. It sounds fairly basic, right?
The visuals are inspired, a refreshing synthesis of retro character design and contemporary production values. The dark, lifeless backgrounds are particularly detailed and immersive, decaying yet beautiful, while the story is a straight forward mystery, with some dynamically animated, brutal action scenes along the way.
The varying robots are themselves desperately alive and afraid of dying, trying to find some meaning in the time they have left; they are strikingly conflicted and sad creations, as is Casshern himself, the man blamed for this dire state of affairs.
My immediate comparisons are to Ergo Proxy and Battle Angel Alita. Casshern‘s hopeless concrete dystopia, combined with the optimistic robot girl, are very reminiscent of Rel and Vincent’s adventures outside of the dome, while the lumbering, blood-thirsty robots are the kind of unhinged opposition often faced by Alita.
3. Shikabane-hime
I’ve been feeling a little hesitant about Shikabane-hime, if just because the premise is a tad cliche, but this first episode was very impressive.
The Gainax touch is apparent almost immediately; the dark ambience is fascinating, the character design is as cool and colourful as ever, while the action is fluid and well drawn. Though I’m aware this might be sounding a tad superficial, let us not forget that anime is a visual medium and that Gainax, when on their game, are masters of the art. Everything from the way a character smiles to the way moon-light dances across a bedroom wall, suggests feeling, soul, and attitude. We don’t need incisive dialogue, or fabulous plot twists, because when anime looks this good, our imagination is set free, unbounded.
2. To Aru Majutsu no Index
To Aru Majutsu no Index was fun; good, solid, exciting and fun.
This was easily one of the most assured debuts of the autumn season and knows exactly what it wants to be, namely cute, magical and funny. It succeeds effortlessly, and won me over almost immediately. Straight from the off, I really liked the attitude of the characters; they are full of life, or rather, sarcasm, and the banter is tremendous, never feeling forced or manipulative, it’s merely dead-pan and funny. The assured direction is courtesy of Hiroshi Nishikiori, who has helmed two J.C. Staff anime series I’ve previously enjoyed, Azumanga Daioh and The Melody of Oblivion.
1. Kuroshitsuji
So far this season, we’ve had the demon-hunting girl, the tsundere tiger and the dystopian science fiction. To my mind, it’s all very familiar and, as a result, all very predictable. I’m not to saying that these are bad stories, but when one finds himself being able to predict each plot twist as it comes, that undeniably takes away a lot of the excitement in watching anime in the first place.
Kuroshitsuji feels like something completely new. Such a feeling is as strange as it is exciting, and, with this being animated at A-1 Pictures, their dark realisation of Victorian-era England is sumptuous; even the tea looks delicious. Of course, it helps that the soundtrack is by far and away the best of the season too, and I was going to write that even before I found out that none other than Taku Iwasaki (Gurren Lagann, Soul Eater) was the man responsible.
To be honest, I wasn’t expecting much from Kuroshitsuji. The elaborate bishonen character designs seem to suggest cringe-worthy homoeroticism, yet this first episode was anything but; it’s positively dripping with malevolence. More please!
It’s been a long time since my last foray into Soul Eater. Too long, really. And it’s easy to forget just how fun it is, how exciting, how damn awesome.
I mean, there are certain things that will always stick out, launch it above other series, and these two episodes were no different. Consider the dark, gothic architecture of Shibusen. The landscape has a palpable character, the shade and colour emphasizing a constant, lively feeling. An emotional container for these bizarre eccentrics, this is a world I can feel a part of, along with these characters and their adventures, so colourful and thrilling.
I suppose I’m really just in awe of this show, as the bright sparks fly and the awkwardly dressed kids dance. In that moment. Memories. These episodes, in particular, just really capture that feeling for me, that transient, simple, joyful sense of being young and stupid. If just for a dozen or so minutes, it’s fun, and happy, and perfect.
Then Medusa attacks.
Sometimes it’s easy to take Soul Eater for granted because every episode is so consistently and stylishly animated. But like I said above, I’ve been away from this series for too long. When I finished these two episodes, I really had the urge to just race through the rest right there and then. But you see, I want to savour it, this feeling, this excitement. It’s wonderful, and rare.
I was always going to like Kaiba. Even before it started airing, I had, somewhat dangerously, convinced myself that it would be good. After all, with someone like Masaaki Yuasa directing, I had to expect it would special and well, some five months later, here we are again, I just finished Kaiba this weekend.
Lets allay some fears right now. Despite its polarizing visual style and artsy pedigree, Kaiba absolutely isn’t high falutin or pretentious, it is heartfelt and emotional, exciting and twisted, and most of all, character driven. It’s true that Yuasa occasionally indulges in daunting surrealism, no doubt the last episode is a testament to that, but I really hope that you watch Kaiba, because it is lovely.
Well, that’s a half truth. Kaiba is lovely, and sweet, and romantic, but it’s also tragic, and sad, and harsh. I’m recalling a line from Kino’s Journey that comes to mind, that “The world is not beautiful, therefore it is”. This is Kaiba, I think. An idealistic, almost child-like search for some meaning in life within a universe where human memory, the very essence of individuality, is ephemeral, readily transferred into tiny, fragile metal chips and where dreams are copied, fabricated and deleted.
People are weak little things, really. Our dreams are many, and many of them are impossible, but we strive on anyway. One watches Kaiba and feels this romantic melancholy for life, that every person, all of us, might as well be reduced to a grain of sand on a golden beach, one of countless millions, yet we all keep on believing that we can make a difference, or do something important. Sometimes we find happiness, other times not. Kaiba is beautiful for allowing a human life to blossom, like how a flower might sneak through the cracks of a concrete road, only to then be crushed underfoot. A life that was once so hopeful can be extinguished in an instant, lost forever, just another grain of sand. But if life is so insignificant, what is the point of living? Why not just give up?
Above all else, Kaiba is a love story. When Warp and Neiro fall from their lost palace and slip into the amnesia cloud below, Warp’s only concern is for his beloved Neiro’s memories, even at the cost of his own. They roll around in Neiro’s room, drunk, happy, absolutely content within the intimacy of the other’s company, they remain scared, fragile and lost, but they have each other, and that’s enough, I think. Likewise, Popo only realizes the hollowness of his rise to power after his last remaining friend has had her memories erased, “Don’t forget me!” he screams, but it’s too late, everything he strived for has been forgotten. We live for each other, a mother for her son, a boy for his friend, one lover for another. That’s why giving up isn’t an option, our dreams might be hopeless, but they keep us alive long enough to find a friend, a kindred spirit.