Nippon Sangoku The Three Nations of the Crimson Sun

Episode 8

I've been on something of a wuxia kick lately, which has had me thinking a lot about one of my all-time favorite movies, Zhang Yimou's Hero (2002). That film has some incredible action set-pieces, to be sure, but what has always stuck me about Zhang's epic is how much tension and quiet spectacle it wrings from scenes where characters are mostly just sitting down and speaking to one another about matters both personal and political. It just goes to show how malleable and adaptable the craft of filmmaking is: it can make just about any combination of movement and dialogue thrilling when applied with great care and skill.

Oh, would you look at that, my reminiscing about mid-2000s Chinese cinema ended up creating a perfect segue to discuss this week's predictably excellent episode of Nippon Sangoku. Like the best war epics, it fashions a fiercely compelling human drama out of little more than a handful of conversations and some interstitial map diagrams. I've been banging this drum for two months straight, at this point, but I am obligated to continue until the larger population of human beings who appreciate animation understands just how goddamned good this show is. The show has proven that it can do wild, gruesome action whenever it wants to – look no further than last week's excellent close-quarters combat for proof of that – but Nippon Sangoku's has also made it clear that it doesn't need to sever limbs and shatter bones to keep us glued to our screens.

For one, its two-dimensional characters display a shocking amount of three-dimensional charisma, and it has as much to do with the impeccable artistry of Studio Kafka as with the equally effective writing and performances. With very few exceptions, the team at Kafka has maintained a level of detail and depth to its animation that rivals feature films with cinematic budgets for the entire season. I am consistently engrossed in the drama of the ongoing war between Yamato and Seii as if I were watching real people navigate these treacherous webs of politics and strategy, and that is no small accomplishment.

As a lifelong cinephile and professional critic, I find it very difficult for me to turn off the part of my brain that is constantly analyzing the craft and technique of the media I engage with. Horror movies rarely scare me anymore because I am so interested in and familiar with the special effects work that produces all of that lovely gore and viscera. When I dig into a live-action drama by the likes of, say, Martin Scorsese, I cannot help but dissect and reflect on the editing choices, the effectiveness of the score's needle-drops, or the particular equipment and blocking needed to get whatever impressive shot is filling up my screen. When it comes to animation, it is basically impossible for me to ignore any inconsistency, shortcut, or time-tested trick that reminds me that I am, in fact, just looking at a bunch of drawings that are moving really fast.

In the case of Nippon Sangoku, the artistry on display is so incredibly consistent and stylish that I can get absorbed in the story being told. That is an experience I can usually only find in theatrical films or, as is the case here, the most exemplary works of televised animation that the industry has to offer. It isn't even that Studio Kafka is producing the most fluid, detailed, or hyper-realistic animation on the market. It's just that the storyboarding and direction are so confident and polished that all of the usual standout shortcuts that TV productions rely on blend into the whole product and become invisible on a first viewing. I cannot stress this enough: If you share my passion for animation, Nippon Sangoku should be mandatory viewing.

It also helps that the story is generally quite good, too. While it's still unfortunate that the show's two best characters (and ostensible protagonists) have been waiting it out on the sidelines for several episodes in a row, it is difficult to complain too much when every other character is stealing the show with such ease. Wajima, in particular, makes for such an interesting and complex foil for our Yamato characters to square off against. On the one hand, she is overseeing a brutal and -by her own admission! - inhumane military campaign, but I think we're meant to read her sorrow and misgivings as genuine. They say there is nothing more dangerous than an evil person who is truly and wholly convinced in the righteousness of their cause, and I think the Gentle Dictator absolutely fits that bill. Grifters will always crack under the pressure of their mounting lies and schemes, but a genuinely devoted fanatic will keep fighting until their body gives out. I can't think of a more terrifying opponent to face on the battlefield.

Wait, maybe I can, because General Mitsuhide Ryumon faces down Wajima and a squadron of her soldiers with nothing more than a fine kimono and a freshly brewed pot of tea. The absolute, stone-cold power that this old man displays by merely sitting alone on the bridge and staring down an army is only enhanced when Wajima's advisor reminds the audience that Ryumon's strategy is ripped straight from the glorious tales of ancient battlefield miracles, and he's risking everything on his ability to manifest that mythic power and strike his enemies down in terror.

And he wins. Readers, I could not help but shout and applaud when Wajima turned tail to run, because it was the kind of cathartic, inspiring victory that even the most sakuga-drenched power battles only ever dream of depicting on screen. What a hell of a way to close out an episode. What a triumph of a series Nippon Sangoku has turned out to be.

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James is a writer with many thoughts and feelings about anime and other pop-culture, which can also be found on BlueSky, his blog, and his podcast.

Nippon Sangoku The Three Nations of the Crimson Sun is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.