HellKorn's Anime

12/15

05/06

Japanese animation is all too often an emotionally and intellectually shallow subset of a medium. If an anime series features young girls in contrived, tragic situations, why it must be very deep -- ask any otaku who seeks out tragedy porn that isn't far removed from daytime soap operas, save for the characters' ages. And for depth? Who needs actual examination of socially and philosophically relevent themes (any of the four yoshitoshi ABe anime or Satoshi Kon's works) when all you apparently need is a love of pastiche and superficial real-world references (Ergo Proxy, Boogiepop Phantom, Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence).

In this industry of melodrama and allusions, it makes it all the more satisfying when works like Yasuhiro Yoshiura's Eve no Jikan (Time of Eve) are created.

To give a brief background: Yoshiura's first foreray into anime is Mizu no Kotoba (Aquatic Language). It's a quirky nine-minute short, charming in its rough artistry and decidedly different sense of humor. This was followed by an extremely ambitious work, Pale Cocoon, which remains as the best short film that I've ever seen. Aside from an interestingly subverted cyberpunk setting and gorgeous visuals, it features satisfyingly sharp commentary on heritage and knowledge. The film is is suitably moody; while not dark as is common with these type of stories, it definitely leaves a fair bit of time for introspection, in spite of the quick editing.

It only makes sense, then, that Yoshiura follows such a weighty piece with a story that is the tonal opposite, though not lacking any of the intelligence.

The premise and concepts are hardly originally, as has been pointed out with snide remarks by science fiction readers. Yet Eve no Jikan still succeeds because of the frank, playful nature of Yoshiura's storytelling. From wink-turned-stars to thought bubbles to fast-paced sequences of overlapping dialogue to the most convincing "camera illusion" in anime, it's hard not to view the series as straightforward fun. This lightning-fast direction and wit is complimented by a simple structure of introducing and fleshing out new characters -- be they human or not -- and ideas, all in the span of 15 minutes.

In fact, the short runtime of each installment is the only major mark against it, really: the production team is the same for each episode so as to maintain visual consistency (which is well worth the effort). This emphasis on detail means a long wait between releases, with the first episode of the "second season," episode four, set to come out in May.

If there is any sort of justice in this world, then the North American anime fandom will at last catch on to Yoshiura's underappreciated genius. Eve no Jikan is accessible and entertaining enough to do just that.

08/13

Genuine mystery anime are a rare breed, as the genre usually mixed in with horror. While thinking of more "traditional" types -- there's no way one can classify something like Mononoke as "traditional" -- it's hard to really pin down any anime series that pulls off this kind of story as well as Mouryou no Hako. Much of the first episode can be a bore, centered around an annoying pretentious girl with a grating, whining friend that dotes upon her in a mixture of idol worship and yuri overtones. However, once past that, the conspirtorial backdrop only hinted at comes full force in the second episode. From there on out the series frequently changes moods but never deviates from its surrealist direction and confident writing.

Putting such rambling aside: this may be confusing and initially off-putting, but it's damn good.

How to go from mediocrity to excellence:

Step #1: Transfer the animation production from one of anime's most criticized studio to the one loved by practically all otaku. (In fact, one might argue that this is where Kyoto Animation's reputation begins.)

Step #2: Bring in a competent director with a keen sense of comedic timing for slapstick.

Step #3: Strip away the boring pieces of action and plots from the first series, reducing the bipolar tone to one focused solely on humor.

Step #4: Make use of one of anime's most undervalued strengths by emphasizing vignette-storytelling.

Step #5: Transform the once-annoying female lead to a likable, even somewhat sympathetic character.

And you have a winner.

Gonzo's last hurrah? Considering their output since then, it may very well be.

Sadly, it is not as flawless as some critics say it is. The sci-fi backdrop hinders more than it helps; any semblance of world-building is thrown out the window, and so quickly becomes generic and throwaway. I can only guess that the staff exchanged the 19th century European setting for futuristic locations to appeal to the sensibilities of modern viewers, or to not inconvenience themselves by bothering to research the historical setting of the novel -- perhaps both.

The characters can also be problematic. This does perhaps come with shifting the narrative from a revenge-plot to one about innocence. Because of this transition, the Count comes across as less compelling than he should be, and instead we're given a dry character in the form of Albert. Reflecting this with other characters, the cast feels less like aristocracy and more akin to what one would experience in an old shoujo series. (Hell, Albert fits the submissive role to the Count's dominant one rather neatly.)

Consequently, the ending, like much of anime, suffers from a hastily-put together climax which only delivers on the promise of innocence (or, rather, love) overcoming the vengeful spirit.

Still, all of my complaints aside, this DOES deserve to be watched. It's a remarkably compelling story, as all well-told melodrama should be. In spite of the aforementioned thematic shift, Dumas' tale is not left in shambles, and so many of the strengths of the original remains.

What really makes this anime great in many eyes, I suspect, is the visuals. This can be a divise element, perhaps the most contentious one in the show. Nonetheless, for those that do not feel it's a detriment, the animation and art feature Gonzo at the highest of artistic sensibilities. Director Mahiro Maeda truly succeeds here, obviously investing budget and talent to make the clothing, hair, et cetera as vibrant and attention-grabbing as possible, almost to the point of pretentiousness.

Gankutsuou may not live up to the acclaim it has gathered, but it's still a competent product of serial animation.

Fuck. This and Texhnolyze have the two greatest opening themes for any anime series. Ever. You just cannot compete with the visuals and editing.

(Review pending.)

The first episode is harmless fluff, the second hilarious and the third boring. Given that it's included in the ridiculously cheap box set that Media Blasters has released, fans -- both the casual and hardcore -- should give this a viewing at least once, if only for the parody.

The only reason for why this isn't given a Masterpiece rating is that it's too hard to watch. I've seen it with people who were bawling; while I'm not prone to do so by any stretch, there are sequences -- particularly towards the end -- where the eyes well up and a lump falls right down the throat. Even with the spectral glimpses of their afterlives, there's no catharsis here.

People who also criticize either Seita or the aunt are betraying their own biases (not criticizing Seita's pride and laziness vs. those that don't realize the horrifying situation a child has been placed in; not recognizing the utter callousness of the aunt in regards to her denying protection for Setsuko vs. those that don't understand how harsh things are for her family when taking care of two orphans). The film isn't about any sort of strict, moralized judgment concerning the characters, but a snapshot of those suffering under a neglectful, arrogant nation facing the dying days of a self-destructive regime.

Well, this is a disappointment.

First things first, though: I cannot take away how visually and aurally brilliant this series is. The animation is consistently some of the best in Japanese television animation, period. The art direction is varied and set to match the environment, whatever it may be for a given episode. The music is perhaps the real hero here, though; each track feels as though it's perfectly molded to each scene, never overplaying emotions and always striking a subtle enough chord to support, but never to detract.

The episodic storytelling for the first seven episodes also deliver the most exciting and honest portions of the series. Warp visits planet after planet, jumping into body after body with a greedy policeman on his tail (and, much like the bodies, has a different motivation for each venture). The locales and settings are all inventive, driven by such conceptual brilliance you can imagine that Yuasa could continue this gig forever and never run out of ideas. Even when the script fumbles, such as in episode five, the themes, art, animation and music still keeps the viewer glued to their seat.

Unfortunately, Yuasa also runs into the same problems that he met with Kemonozume: establishing a cohesive narrative. I'm hardly one for demanding directors and writers to spoon-feed viewers -- indeed, I applaud when they go for subtlety -- but here Yuasa extends his reach far, far, far beyond his grasp. The second half of the story, driven more by the conspiratorial plot, collapses under its ambitions.

A large part of this problem is that Yuasa's world-building is more restrained, more personal than any grand, epic adventure one might expect with this type of tale. Throughout the first seven episodes he works around a smaller scope, concerned with characters and downplaying the mystery behind them. This is almost completely reversed from episode eight to the end, where exposition is intermingled with plot developments that are not previously established, and throwing in whatever idea possible. (Singularity? Revival? God complex? A universal threat? Uh-huh. It's as though Yuasa took the most base elements of The End of Evangelion and ignored everything that made it cohesive.)

I almost feel bad for criticizing Kaiba, because I still feel as though the first half is a imaginative, if slightly uneven triumph. And the technical brilliance I spoke of earlier still remains for the last few episodes. It's just that Yuasa seems incapable of handling grandiose plots.

Does merely pointing out stereotypes mean that the work is a deconstruction and satire? No. Does having a rearranged episode order mean that it's absolutely essential and adds to the narrative, making it a genius move akin to Memento? No. Do these two false claims by anime fans mean that The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya isn't one of the best anime ever made? Hell no!

The series has a sense of fun and wit about it nearly unmatched in Japanese animation. Four-fifths of the main cast are an absolute blast to watch, and have some surprising subtleties unearthed as the show develops. It manages to be very genre-inclusive without ruining itself like nearly every other anime that tries the same. Throw on superb production values and a great soundtrack, and it's clear why this series will be held up as a classic for years to come.

Completely engaging opening episodes, but then starts to slow itself down. No problem, honestly, until it hits the halfway mark, where its shortcomings start to become more apparent. The lack of grand focus and lapse into deus ex machina really hinder this series. It also falls into forced character development and placement as a result. Also all too typical of recent Bones' productions there are fascinating concept that are only superficially explored -- a mish-mash of ideas for a setting never realized -- and more anime-conventional characterization and plotting.

Amusingly enough, it would benefit from a 39 episode run like Eureka Seven would, though for different reasons.

so moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe i'm an ironic masochist moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe moe

Fuck that.

I question the self-awareness of people who unabashedly enjoy this show.

Otaku who clamor for the ill-defined concept of moe are doing pretty well these days -- not that they've shed their social stigma, or anything like that. No, part of that fandom is kept alive largely because of two reasons: 1) Their unshakable will to focus their income on doujinshi, anime DVDs, games and related paraphernalia instead of cars, booze and women. 2) The fact that, like all successful business, The Powers That Be are acutely aware of their audience's spending habits and will milk them until their utters fall off. Lucky Star is arguably the pinnacle of such ventures in the modern age of Japanese animation, so unabashedly moé that the hardened cynics among us might imagine the creators walking about their studio with a subtle, placate smile on their lips as DVD sales for their latest release are announced.

However, this is not to say that those who do not fall within the spectrum of otaku cannot and should not enjoy such a series; indeed, entertainment is in the eye of the beholder. Yet, while there have been astonishing bursts of creativity in Japanese animation over the past decade, it's somewhat distressing to know that such a murky, socially-inept phenomenon has taken such a stranglehold that it can be condensed to its most rudimentary form and eaten up faster than a fat boy alone in the kitchen with a cake.

Sometimes it evokes the better episodes of Samurai Champloo where things just go completely bonkers, and episode seven has one of the most satisfyingly mature depicts of romance that one can come across in anime. Yet it falls victim to one of its strengths that the aforementioned show does not have: juggling a more visibly on-going narrative. The writing becomes hit-or-miss because of this, occasionally becoming downright trite and dull, such as in episode nine. Set against a satisfyingly researched setting, the stories don't offer much that has been done before, or even try to distinguish themselves with respect to the old clichès like Cowboy Bebop does.

Shame, because Sayo Yamamoto is a talented director; she just needs a more creative and consistent script backing her.

Well, Shangri-La has some nice backgrounds, at least.

But, damn, you can really tell this is the director's debut. Lot of very awkward editing and compositionally dull scenes. Even the action scenes are hit-or-miss.

Doesn't help when the story isn't any better. Two lolis with pandering, loud voices (no, Hojo is not 18, and no amount of "b-but the youth of Asian women" is going to say otherwise)? Check. Stereotyped transvestite? Check. Outrageous hair style and colors (seriously, what the hell is with that commander?)? Check. The Evil Character introduced by Evil Music as she does Evil Things with Evil Make-Up on a generic Evil Expression that the director cuts to because we must know that she's an Evil Leader? Check. Exposition about a ludicrous concept poorly shoe-horned in? Check. Another one of countless, failed attempts for an anime to attempt to balance playfulness and a Serious Plot with Serious Themes? Check.

And then we get the soldiers running away from the stereotyped transvestite instead of shooting him, because, well, you cannot have competent soldiers actually killing a main character. And I'm not even starting on the fucking boomerang.

Not that Gonzo has made anything that I've given a damn about in over a half-decade, but I sort of deluded myself that they would succeed here with Shangri-La. I just give up.

Like Giant Robo, except padded out and less insane. I appreciate Imagawa's efforts to avoid the conventional filler by packing in all of the essential characters and the story's mythos in the first battle, but this also creates a lack of dynamics by drawing out the situation as much as possible. Also doesn't help that it doesn't have the budget to support Imagawa's vision as Giant Robo did.

While still falling into tired genre conventions too much for my taste, it's far, far more entertaining than a cynic might think.