Zootopia‘s differentiated animal society is a rich allegory that reflects issues of race, gender, and disability. Every element is anchored around these theme and it injects a sense of dynamism, variety, and depth that I don’t think I’ve seen in any animated movies before.

• Typecasting is natural in Zootopia‘s world because the animals are different species, yet the film is a commentary on issues of race, gender, and disability among humans, one species. This is an incredibly rich dynamic which the movie explores deeply through both its story and the details of its world. At the same time, it’s also a potential minefield for those writing about the movie.

• Is racism equivalent to speciesism? Is speciesism okay because there are strong biological differences between animals? Is segregation in employment okay if some animals are inherently better at doing some tasks than other animals? Is there more discrimination in the human world than the animal world? Is the difference between predators and prey in a animal world a comment on the eugenics movement? One of the reasons why Zootopia asks such challenging and interesting questions is because the animal world and the human world are not easily comparable.

• One of the reasons why it’s not easy to compare Zootopia and the human world is because Zootopia is equally as happy to satisfy traditional roles in the human world as it is to subvert them. The police force is full of masculine types (predators), while administrative roles are given to feminine types (prey), yet it is suggested that Officer Clawhauser, an overweight tiger (predator) who mans the front desk, is gay. Clawhauser’s role in helping the protagonists capture the villain is also far more significant than the more masculine characters. Finnick, Mr. Big, and Yax also have subversive character traits.

• Jude’s comments at the press conference and Nick’s reaction serve to demonstrate the power of language and how the taken-for-granted mindset can often undermine our own values. This scene was the highlight of the movie. Everything afterwards was simply going through the motions. Given the tone of the movie, I would have preferred a more unconventional third act over the stock “heroes defeat unexpected evil villain” trope.

• I loved the subtle examples of differentiated design, such as the smoothie stalls with the mini elevators that ship drinks up to the giraffes. Zootopia, as a world where diversity has been consistent through its history, offers us a potential glimpse at what a future society which caters to individual difference would look like.

• The range of animal types offer a great deal of visual and thematic dynamism to the movie, especially the differences in the size of the animals. The donut scene in the mouse village is an excellent example of contrasting worlds within the same city.

• I love the narrative cohesion and symbolism created through the “It’s called a hustle” line, which represents the power relations between the main characters. Nick tricks a naïve Jude, Jude outsmarts Nick, and the pair then work together to catch the villain.

• I don’t think we saw any monkeys in the film.

I normally don’t write about music. It scares me a bit because I don’t know much about music theory and lack the cultural capital and general know-how that comes with being a hardcore music buff. Still, given that I find myself more and more invested in what I listen to, but have been struggling to find writing that clearly explains it to me, I’d like to give it a try myself. I only have two, maybe three, posts worth of ideas, so this’ll only be a short excursion. I’d like to start with an album that I’ve been listening to for about 3 weeks, Maxinquaye by Tricky (1995). You can hear the whole album here or just listen to several select songs below:

Ponderosa

Black Steel

Aftermath

Maxinquaye has an elusive quality which is created through harmonic dissonance, contrasting styles, and a subversive approach to singing and songwriting. Examples include:

• The blend of different genres, including hip-hop, rock, soul, and electronica.
• Tricky’s role as a backing singer for more than half of the record, despite it being “his” album.
• Tricky’s assortment of singing styles (sing-speak, rapping, whispering, and various inhaling, exhaling, moans, and groans).
• The way a singer of one sex sings lyrics written from the viewpoint of the other (eg. Black Steel). This gives the music an ambiguous sexual identity.
• The vocal relationship between Tricky and Martina Topley-Bird.

In regards to the former most point, sometimes:

• Tricky speaks the lyrics before Martina sings them (Strugglin’), which sounds like Tricky is the voice in the back of Martina’s head, feeding her the message.
• Tricky speaks as Martina sings, producing an out-of-time backing vocal (Aftermath, Abbaon Fat Tracks).
• Tricky whispers and his vocals are, seemingly, cut up and looped, creating a bedrock of background conversation (Feed Me).
• Tricky is absent altogether (Overcome).
• Tricky moans and exhales (Ponderosa).
• Tricky sings the verses, while Martina sings the chorus (Suffocated Love).

The changing relationship between the two singers, through Tricky, conjures up a variety of associations. Do they know what the other is going to say? Are they conversing or just talking over each other? How are power roles expressed through the vocals?

Ponderosa combines several of these points together. In this song, Tricky is the backing vocalist. He backs the last few words of each line, sometimes sitting out, other times taking the lead. At the start of the song, he whispers. After the first verse, the song pauses while he exhales and moans, before the chorus kicks in. Near the end of the song, he repeats key words that come later in the track as he waits for Martina to catch up. The result is a dynamic layer of vocals that weaves in and out of the main thread, lifting the peaks (“different levels of the devil’s company”) and prompting the listener to mentally rewind and fast forward the lyrical content of the song.

Similar to Ponderosa’s vocals, Black Steel’s second half sees the singing become detached from the music and weave in and out of the time of the instrumentals, before eventually finding its focus.

Additional Reading

Classic Tracks: Tricky ‘Black Steel’ Sounds on Sound

What I’ve come to appreciate through watching Ninja Scroll: The Series is the expertise of Yoshiaki Kawajiri and Yutaka Minowa, the director and artist of the original Ninja Scroll (1993). Yoshiaki Kawajiri has directed some of my favourite anime productions including the Vampire Hunter D remake Bloodlust, the TV series for X and the neo-noir sex thriller Wicked City. Yutaka Minowa also worked on Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust and Wicked City, as well as the X movie adaption and the Hellsing-esque Devil May Cry animated series. Despite taking on different roles, the duo share an accommodating sense of style where Yoshiaki Kawajiri’s dark, mistrusting worlds lends themselves to Yutaka Minowa’s diagonally-drawn, pointy-chinned character designs.

Ninja Scroll and Wicked City, two of my favourite titles that Kawajiri and Minowa worked on together, are such interesting movies because their characters sought out their own motives questionable to their roles as heros and villains. Dakuan and Jubei, for instance, may be fighting on the same side, but only because Dakuan poisoned Jubei and baited him with an antidote to lure him into following orders. These characters disobey their hero and antagonist roles to protect their own interests and undermine the viewer, creating sinister worlds filled with only the guilty.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bt-_MbeDrcY

I rant about Kawajiri and Minowa to set the contrast for Ninja Scroll: The Series which, for all intents and purposes, dumbs the movie’s serious tone down to something akin to a Saturday morning cartoon.

Ninja Scroll: The Series is set in an unrelated, alternative dimension to the movie. Jubei and Dakuan reprise their roles, but meet as strangers with no prior history. Included in the cast are two new protagonists, Shigure and Tsubute who set the kid-friendly tone. Shigure is a young “ninja girl” looking for meaning and strength in her life—a representation of a child entering adulthood. She’s quite a good character compared to the other performances and bears more than a passing resemblance to Momiji from Ninja Gaiden Dragon Sword. Tsubute, on the other hand, is an anime archetype: the young rascal with a tendency to flair up. He naturally provides the comic relief and is voiced by Scott Menville who often plays these sorts of roles.

The premise of the story is very simple. The lone traveler, Jubei, on an elder’s dying wish, is given the mystical dragon stone and told to deliver it to the light maiden Shigure. He soon finds Shigure in an isolated mountainous village and hands her the stone. The stone is seemingly a pendant of misfortune as Shigure’s village is attacked shortly after Jubei hands her the stone. The attackers, from various ninja clans, are in pursuit of the stone, so she flees the village, soon running back into Jubei, accompanied by Dakuan who seems to take pleasure in pestering Jubei. Later Tsubute joins the party and the stone is split in two. The foursome hold on to one half, but lose the other to the Hiruko Clan. The rest of the story follows the merry band’s pursuit to find the other half of the stone while protecting their own from various ninja clans.

Since different clans are doggedly after the dragon stone (for reasons unclear), the majority of the 13 episodes focus on the group defending the stone from various mutant ninja beasts. As such, each episode has largely the same self-contained structure of introducing a new handful of new ninja mutants and concluding with their defeat at the hands of Jubei. It’s a little formulaic, but a reliable template nonetheless.

As you’ve likely gathered from my explanation, there’s little backstory to flesh out why everyone is after this supposedly mystical stone. Each episode just pulls a new slew of derivative, mish-mash villain archetypes who are unflinching in their rage against Jubei. It’s all just pretty mindless really. Because each episode introduces a fresh bevy of goons before quickly removing them from existence, they become disposable fodder in the thirteen episode rotation.

Although the protagonists tend to have some form of dimension to them, the villains are generically churned out, diluting the sinister essence ingrained in the original cast of villains. The introduction scenes for Yoshiaki Kawajiri’s vibrant cast of villains would always give you goosebumps because of their selfish motives and interesting character designs. Here, they’re just random freaks with no texture or detail, spurting “I’m going to kill you, bastard!” lines. It all plays out similarly to a Saturday morning cartoon, creating a disconnect between the adult nature of the content and cartoon presentation.

Several of the villains are unclothed or are designed in sexually suggestive ways, and the majority end up spliced in half, decapitated or stabbed by Jubei’s blade (as much as he prefers pacifism). Throw in a couple of sex scenes, innuendo, tame eroticism and references to S&M culture and it quickly grows into something uncomfortable and uncanny. By appearance, Ninja Scroll: The Series looks like a kids show, yet it contains all of this adult content. Despite being set in feudal Japan, all the characters speak in an unrestrained modern vernacular too.

Through all the slicing and dicing, the relations between the group of protagonists strengthens and the characters do evolve a little which add a layer or two to a fairly vanilla cast. The ninja girl matures into her adult role, the prankster kid learns to be responsible, Dakuan softens up and even though Jubei’s story ends where it began (with him looking for a place to sleep), he gains a little optimism through the whole affair.

There’s a few strange quirks which are difficult to avoid mentioning. The number of key frames in the battle sequences tends to pick up in the final few episodes, leaving the earlier episodes feeling rough and the level of quality throughout uneven. Dakuan’s cells are basic and ugly to look at in comparison to Shigure who seems to glow with an added radiance. In fact, Dakuan’s role overall is strangely played down. He’s completely overshadowed by the younger protagonists and is more of a pest than anything. Even Jubei is kind of overshadowed too. He doesn’t say much and only becomes interesting when he’s slicing heads.

Taking it for the screwed up kids cartoon it is, Ninja Scroll: The Series isn’t so bad. I partly enjoyed this shallower tale, even though I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s worth adding that there’s a substantial amount of extras on the DVDs (interviews, sketches, time lapse drawings for the cover art for each DVD) and usually 4 or 5 episodes per disc, so you won’t feel entirely ripped off. Still, this series doesn’t deserve mention against the work of art that is Yoshiaki Kawajiri and Yutaka Minowa’s original Ninja Scroll. If you haven’t seen that movie, then go rent it out now, otherwise just avoid this mess.

Berserk is an anime adaption of the popular manga series of the same name created by Kentaro Miura. Berserk (anime) covers the first 13 volumes, also known as the Golden Age arc.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1JnCNW-n8FI

Berserk is quite the slow burn, taking its time to establish the underlying themes through the mining of the two main protagonists, Guts and Griffith. Their actions are very important as they symbolise philosophies of human nature (diplomacy and war), forming the ideological centrepiece for the series. As the viewer comes to realise this dichotomy, similarly to the way Guts comes to draw comparisons between himself and Griffith, the initial slow burn soon wears off and Berserk starts to become engrossing.

Guts is a typical brute with a large sword and a short temper who stumbles upon a camp for the mercenary band, the Band of the Hawk, leading to a short feud where Guts is bested by the leader, Griffith. Rather than kill the obstinate young warrior, Griffith offers Guts a deal to join his mercenary band in exchange for his life. Guts unwillingly accepts the offer along with his loss of the battle.

Guts is immediately promoted to the Band of the Hawk’s second in command and becomes curious of Griffith who has unwavering faith in Guts’ abilities. Griffith is an idol within the camp and very much evangelised for his brilliant tactical and combat skills which constantly lead the mercenary group to success. Griffith’s diplomatic treatment of Guts causes some minor jealously within the camp, particularly with the only female member, Casca, who feels a strong personal bond with Griffith. The ensuing conflict derived from the jealousy causes Guts to evaluate the himself against Griffith.

The two men are polar opposites. Griffith is slender with long, pure white hair, wields a thin rapier, speaks with a calm, soft voice and has seemingly no character flaws. He is the embodiment of diplomacy, charisma and camaraderie. Guts has never experienced the level of friendship shown within the group, he doesn’t understand how Griffith is so patient and accepting of others. The only thing Guts knows is the display of strength through combat, he’s the embodiment of war, internalising his emotions and talking only with his blade.

Guts warms to Griffith’s outlook and adopts many of his interpersonal philosophies which allows Guts to integrate within the group. Griffith is immediately close with Guts, often talking with Guts in private about his personal thoughts and endeavours. Such information was never made privy to the anyone else before Guts’ arrival, further fueling the aforementioned jealousy. These sequences of dialogue provide Guts (and the viewer) with food to chew on regarding the underlying thematic elements. The open expression of warmth given towards Guts turns him into another of Griffith’s admirers. However, this idol is also one with an undercurrent of suspicion and here enters the themes of the series’ second half, man’s pursuit of his dreams.

Griffith makes clear to Guts his dream of becoming a king, despite his role as a commoner. He sees this goal as a matter of inevitability and holds a solitary faith towards this pursuit. And the more Griffith divulges to Guts, the clearer the situation becomes.

As the Band of the Hawk continue to rise in reputation, eventually working for and then integrating with the army of Midland, Griffith’s desires become realised. Through the groups transition into royalty figure, Guts notes Griffiths’s burgeoning desire and slowly the two roles change as Griffith’s dogmatic pursuit begins to involve the murder of significant figures of royalty. Guts assists in these assassinations with faith, but slowly coming to question his master’s authority as it becomes increasingly felonious and risky and puts Guts in a position of liability. Griffith’s goals come to create a rift in the ideological framework as Guts, with their positions somewhat exchanged, is now tested by a wavering master.

— Interlude —

Up to this point, Berserk is effective at putting the viewer in a Japanese mindset (I am partly assuming the Japanese here, either way, I mean to say an environment where social actions have far greater consequence). In many regards, Berserk pulls you in, because it places you in the mindset of Guts and then uses Griffith to spark your interest. Like Guts, I found myself becoming curious of Griffiths’s behaviour and wondering whether his intents where disingenuous, whether he was a false idol, what exactly their representative attitudes mean and whether they could be considered absolute (in which they’re not).

—-

As Griffith is drawn closer to his goals, Berserk‘s grip tightens as you can see the balance tipping away from Griffith and the veneer about to come off. Up to this point, Griffith is faultless, everything he touches turns into gold which makes the climax very important. Guts acts as the tipping point to the shift in roles, being the first to see the strings from that has been presented to the viewer. Clearly a warrior of great might, Guts understands that he is playing to the desires of another man and not his own. He fights causality by deciding to leave the Band of the Hawks without explanation. Even though Griffith could be seen as manipulative, his manipulation is also to the benefit of his fellow soldiers, so I do not think that Guts sees him as a false idol. It seems that Guts wishes to simply walk his own path, rather than be further involved with Griffith’s personal bidding. Here we see the series folding its narrative over as Griffith, now the representation of war, challenges Guts to a duel before he leaves–the result again deciding Guts’ fate. As had occurred before, the diplomatic warrior wins; Guts cuts Griffith’s rapier in half in the process.

Griffith, clearly wrought by his defeat and the worry of the absence of his right-hand man (for whom he can control), enters the princess’ chambers that night and proceeds to rape her. A servant spies a glance and then reports directly to the king who surrounds Griffith with guards, and without his sword, Griffith submits to the bottom floor of the castle’s prison. The Band of the Hawk are removed shortly thereafter.

These last 2 DVDs (in the 6 DVD set) represent a sudden change in the series. There’s a short lull period after the disbanding where Guts goes off and trains in the woods, before running into a reunited Band of the Hawk lead by Casca. Guts aids in defending the group from a rival mercenary band and is then convinced to stay after seeing Casca in a state of exhaustion and despair. Guts, as the new commander, then helps the crew invade Midland castle and rescue their former leader. Again, we see Guts assume the role Griffith had at the beginning of the series and the quest start anew.

Guts, Casca and several other prominent members of the group reclaim Griffith from his cell who is severely malnourished and frail beyond repair. He’s a cabbage who hardly has the energy to speak, yet in regards to roles, Griffith is the arrogant, young version of Guts seen at the start of the series. Griffith notices the new-found, loving relationship formed between Guts and Casca in his time of absence and in jealously commandeers a cart which sends him careering into a lake. In the lake, Griffith is reunited with the Crimson Behelit, a red stone that he always wore around his neck. He uses the Crimson Behelit to summon several demon gods, whom he offers the Band of the Hawk as a sacrifice to immortalise him as a God, fulfilling his dream.

Although I don’t agree with the ending and in fact find it at odds with the rest of the series (however much it is authentic to the manga), it does show the root of Griffith’s desires and the extent at which he is willing to go in pursuit of his dream. This ending shows us that our desires can corrupt even the seemingly invincible of all men, as Griffith transforms himself from an angel-like figure into a demonic force, both literally and figuratively.

In my opinion, Berserk would have been a better series if it had cut the first and final few episodes, closing after Griffith was imprisoned and Guts had left the Band of the Hawk. (The first episode is of the events after the Golden Age story arc and does not fit in with the events of the rest of the series). As we can see from this article, in regards to the underlying ideologies at play, it would have been smarter for the series to have been cut earlier, concluding with the narrative coming of full circle. In any case, Berserk’s two main characters teach us much about human nature, diplomacy and war, causality and the way in which our endeavours can separate us from our friends and allies.

Images from Berserk Chronicles Image Gallery

Additional Readings

Berserk Chronicles

Berserk @ Wikia

Young Animal Overview of Manga volumes

Berserk Realm

Balibo is the true story of 5 Australian journalists (the Balibo Five) and Roger East who were killed by Indonesian soldiers in the invasion of then Portuguese Timor in 1975. Both the Australian and Indonesian governments have worked to conceal the truth of the events which itself is, by recent Australian inquiry, inconclusive. The story is based on Jill Jolliffe’s Cover-Up and, as one of the other reporters on the island near the time of the invasion, assumes her interpretation of the events.

I don’t like Anthony LaPaglia, supposedly he’s from Adelaide, but that still doesn’t change the fact. At the start of Balibo, his role as ABC reporter Roger East, validates my opinion. He comes across as an asshole; self-interested and ignorant to the plight of youthful FRETLIN politician José Ramos-Horta. Impressed by the sense of justice shown in East’s previous coverage of the Vietnam War and in South American, Horta comes to Darwin to convince Mr East to join his news agency in Dili, in the hope that he will spread awareness of the growing injustice of the Indonesian government towards the people of Timor. East refuses and while quarreling with Horta asks about the five young journalists supposedly situated on the island. Horta spitefully hands East photos and reveals that the men have been missing for 3 weeks, before leaving.

There’s an uneasy air surrounding the situation in Timor and East grows curious, he senses something amiss and decides to rest his suspicions. He meets ABC reporter Michael Richardson who was formerly with the other journalists, but returned to Australia in fear of his safety. Distraught from his experience, he tells East that an Indonesian invasion of Timor is surely imminent and that East would be foolish to go after them.

Determined to seek resolution of the whereabouts of the journalists, East agrees to work in Horta’s newsagency, so long as he can first go to Balibo (where the journalists were last headed). It’s implied that East plans to use Horta to reach Balibo and find answers. Horta accepts the deal.

Balibo is actually a telling of two stories, woven into the one. The overarching story is of East’s—the unofficial 6th member of the Balibo Five—pursuit for the truth. The second story is of the original five and is told a month ahead of East’s story as a series of vignettes.  This creates a riveting dynamic where East is following the trail of a story whose event’s–interspersed with his own–are unfolding before the audience. We can see the tragedy which is about to occur, and it leaves a haunting tone throughout the feature. The Balibo 5 story is shot with a 16mm-to-35mm lens, adding a blue filter to the scene and allowing viewers to differentiate between the two storylines.

The two stories are part of a dual narrative presented through the recollection of an East Timorese woman who is being interviewed for documentation purposes. As we discover, as a young girl, the woman worked in her father’s hotel, the Gran Turismo, where the Balibo Five and East had stayed during their time in Timor. She also witnessed East’s shocking execution at the end of the movie. She’s being interviewed alongside many hundreds of East Timorese who lived through the invasion and liberation of their country. By beginning and concluding the movie in the present day and in such a context, frames the story of the journalists in the wider struggle of the East Timorese’s fight for independence. As the lady leaves the interview at the movie’s closing, and the next person in line steps in and were given a scope of the real people who lived through their own stories of the invasion.

The story of the Balibo Five is frightening as their execution, by the hand of the Indonesian army, looms over the story. One can see the group’s naïve dismissal of warning signs with insistence of bettering the rival stations; Richardson warning the others not to venture any further, the mortar fire which drops during a shoot, the further warning by the group’s driver and then their final pursuit for footage of the invading Indonesian forces undressing from civilian disguises, which ultimately led to their demise. Two of the movie’s key scenes: the initial drop of mortar fire on the journey to Balibo and the killing of the Balibo Five are downright shocking. The film was shot so that the actors themselves traced the journey of the original five. It’s clear that this journey gave the actors a sense of respect and understanding which contributed to these  scenes that they largely improvised. They portray a realistic fear of life about to reach its early end and it’s incredibly moving.

East suffers the same fate, but his story inspires a little more hope. As East travels to Balibo he slowly warms to the Timorese and looks beyond the death of the five journalists to the greater impact on the native people. His realisation all comes to the forefront when in a school torn apart by the Indonesian army, he argues with Horta that in the Australian press the importance of the five Australian journalists far outweighs that of the Timorese population, Horta labels this as selfish and irresponsible, their argument leads into a brief fight. In the end, I think, East, through his personal experience, begins to understand Horta’s message and therefore eventually takes up his cause. Balibo doesn’t assert much political opinion, however, this scene wisely provides context of the situation at large.

The movie ends with the invasion of the Dili by Indonesian forces who physically remove East from Horta’s newsagency and drag him out for execution on a neighbouring jetty. I found this scene to be incredibly arresting as East, attempting to escape the soldier’s grip, cries “I’m Australian”, trying to alert the soldiers of his separation from the conflict. He learns, however, that he is an innocent as the East Timorese.

Conclusion

I guess I appreciate Anthony LaPaglia now, Balibo is one of the most gripping movies I’ve seen in a long time. Balibo is unsettling and at times frighteningly realistic, but as is repeated many times throughout trailers and the extra features (which are plentiful), it’s a story that had to be told. A compelling tragedy which concludes on an uplifting note.

Quite often I find myself reading deeply into a game which I’ve never played, becoming enveloped in its lore before I’ve even had the chance to play it. One of those games is Snatcher. Snatcher‘s been on my mind for a few years and yet I know it’ll be a few years more until I get around to playing it. Snatcher is a rarity which leaves me with little choice but to emulate it, yet I don’t plan on getting into game emulation until I clear off more of the games which I’ve paid for, so I probably won’t get around to it this year, I suspect.

Another game which has caught my attention is Blade Runner, an early 3D detective game for the PC, set in the universe of the movie with the same name. Blade Runner is interesting because it circumvents the use of a graphics card to render it’s high production 3D visuals.

Snatcher is heavily derived from Blade Runner‘s (movie) neo-noir universe, the similarities speak volumes of Hideo Kojima’s adoration for hollywood. Blade Runner began an aesthetic trend which has populated a number of my favourite anime movies as well. So with all facts considered, I decided that I’d be worthwhile for me to investigate the origins of Snatcher, the Blade Runner game and the numerous anime films which share a visual likeness.

Blade Runner (movie)

Blade Runner is an aesthetically-driven movie. The detective, noir plot plods along at a turtle’s pace and the events that unfold are genuinely less interesting and less important than the goings-on pertained in the visual environment of the hypothetical dystopian future.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_hYs1jBy8Y

Rick Deckard, a detective played by Harrison Ford, is a something of a wanderer with a soggy attitude. I think he’s a jerk, but I guess it was normal in the 80’s for men to throw their girls around. Deckard is assigned to destroy four remaining replicants (robots in the guise of humans) on Earth. Considering the replicant’s  pursuit to extend their limited 4 year capacity, the roles of villains and heroes aren’t so clear cut. The film supposes that Deckard is the protagonist, but I would argue otherwise. I would argue that the replicants are just as innocent as Deckard. They both kill others to meet their own ends, and although the replicants are robots, they exhibit human-like initiative which normalise them into the wider population. The replicants refuse to perish because of their continual likeness to human beings (the 4-year life span is a failsafe to prevent the replicants from becoming indistinguishable from human beings) and there’s an admirable quality to be seen there. The question then is of what rights do we grants our manufactured counterparts?

Thematically, Blade Runner is very rich, however, little meaning is incorporated into the story as much as it pertains in the visual environment. The city (Los Angeles) has a strong oriental influence from Japan and is overall a very multicultural take on American, suggesting greater ethnic integration in the future, perhaps Japanese dominance (a concern of the time). The most striking visual feature is the retrofitted nature of the metropolis, which is not only a realistic mix of the past and the future, but visually distinct, metaphorically conveying a strong sense of comparative ideologies of the old and the new. General speaking, the hyrbid  approach allows artists to display two ideas embedded into the graphics as dominant and weak, a fusion, cooperative, co-existent and so forth. I think it’s a very powerful way to express comparison.

Taking into account that most of Blade Runner‘s themes are built into the environment, and therefore implicit, the most overt topic posed is one of what it means to be human. Emotion is the answer offered by Blade Runner and it presents this through the Tyrell corporation who attempt humanise their robots through memory implants used to elicit an emotional response. The Voight-Kampff test (a series of questions designed to evoke emotion + a retina scan) used by the humans is a measure for checking whether someone is a human or replicant . The legitimacy of the human condition is put under scrutiny when Deckard uses the technique on Rachael (Sean Young) and struggles to classify her. She’s one of Tyrell’s best models, the Nexus-6, and proves just how indiscernible the line between real and artificial life can be. She believes herself to be human, which conjours up René Descartes notion “I think therefore I am”.

Personally, I consider the unicorn sequence to be a stroke of genius. Early in the movie Deckard dreams of a unicorn galloping through a forest, at the end of the movie he finds an origami unicorn left by his apartment door, the calling card of Gaff, another police officer monitoring Deckard. This is clearly the most intentional question put forward: whether Deckard is a human or a replicant.

Conclusion

I’ve wasted few words discussing Blade Runner‘s story, because the movie is far more interesting as a visual and thematic piece than it is for an engaging narrative. I find it a little bizarre actually that Blade Runner is more enjoyable if you ignore the foreground elements (Deckard’s story) and concentrate on everything happening in the background (the visual landscape, themes and the questions presented by the film). By the way, get the directors cut (seems to be the standard edition now), as it ties together the unicorn sequence in the conclusion.

Influences

I mentioned earlier, Blade Runner likely inspired other forms of media, so I just want to quickly run through some examples. Snatcher is a complete Blade Runner rip-off, just take a read of the story the entire premise is identical. Akira, aesthetically borrows liberally from Blade Runner, particularly the futuristic architectural designs. Lastly, Wicked City uses the same bad-guys-in-the-guise-of-humans which the creatures of the dark world.

Additional Readings

JUNKER HQ (Interview with Jeremy Blaustein by Chris Barker)

Retroaction Issue 3 – Cover Feature

On name alone, ‘Live Free or Die Hard‘ had me excited for another Die Hard sequel, in fact I’d probably have bought into Die Hard 4.0 a little more if they’d stuck with the coolness of the original name. However, they did not (outside of America) and in turn I didn’t really enjoy Die Hard 4.0 either. I guess, I didn’t enjoy Die Hard 4.0 for the simple reason that it was only a “great” movie and not an astoundingly brilliant one. So colour the following criticism as rather harsh then.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3EUJYh32KVw

Die Hard kinda switched off my radar after a friend explained that the, at time, new movie was a soft-cock iteration of the John McLane legacy. Looking at the American ratings system though, I’m a little confused by all the drama. According to my imported copy of The Ultimate Matrix Collection, all three movies were given an ‘R’ classification rating and yet the equally violent Die Hard 4.0 was given a PG-13 rating in the states. How this makes sense, I do not know.

The problem with John McLane’s resurrection has less to do with a lack of yippee ki-ays and soft-cock action and more to do with lame special effects and an under-realised narrative. The former we can get out the way fairly quickly: McLance, handling a semitrailer, takes on a jet firing missiles under a series of computer-generated concrete highways and manages to end up the victor. The entire scene is as ridiculous as it is fake and unengaging. This coming from a crew which is proud of the realism of their action sequences. Without exaggeration, the scene was disingenuousness and made me feel sleepy.

The majority of the action sequences are actually quite good, most notably when a car is launched into a helicopter (McLane “was out of bullets”). The premise to this sequence masterfully makes use of the technology-savvy villains who redirect traffic into both sides of a tunnel, wait for McLane to reverse (attempting to trap him with a luring chopper waiting for him on the other side) and then proceed to switch off the tunnel’s lights for ensuing mayhem. Such cleverness rekindles the shock of the “I hate niggers” sequence from Die Hard: With a Vengeance.

The narrative is ultimately what soured me over on what is an admittedly good Die Hard flick. The premise is that a group of youngish cyber hackers have taken over Washington, D.C. , starting a firesale: a three step process of disarming control of a country. The group first begin by closing down the transportation system, then they destroy communications and lastly they shut off utilities. This concept sets up two interesting dynamics for the narrative. Firstly it allows for some clever confrontations as McLane works on the ground and the cyber criminals attempt to stop him through indirect measures. Unfortunately, unlike Die Hard: With a Vengeance which mostly delivered on its core premise, Die Hard 4.0 concocts very few battles which utilise the villain’s unique form of control. As such, the primary action sequences wouldn’t be out of place in a lesser action movie, there’s no defining ingenuity to raise Die Hard 4.0 above convention.

Besides the car-chopper and semi-trailer-army-jet scenes, the other two action sequences which constitute Die Hard 4.0 feel very familiar. The first bit of action in the movie, an escape from I’m-like-a-son-to-you-Mc-Lane Matt Farrell’s apartment, is typically Seagal, particularly shooting a fire extinguisher. McLane later faces off against Mai, an archetypal ninja women—represented by the Asian-ness of Maggie Q as Mai, in an industrial setting. Mai’s unwillingness to die (Mai is roughed around, hit with a car and falls down an elevator shaft, yet continues to get back up) and the insane lengths that McLane goes to kill her is reminiscent of Terminator 3. One character plays the action movie trope, the other, a slender, unstoppable force. The blue hue of the set and overall industrial aesthetic further adds to the likeness to T3.

The second dynamic created by the firesale concept is the underlying theme of “an analog cop in a digital world”. McLane’s an old hat, a white cop who wears his battles on his bloodied body. He continues to embody the characteristics of his 1980s/1990s persona. In many ways, McLane’s lost in this world, an outdated stereotype in a more sophisticated kind of action movie. The narrative interesting explores this side of the legacy and it actually makes John McLane the most dislikable character in the entire film. McLane comes off as arrogant, narrow-minded and uncooperative. He’s also clueless when it comes to dealing with the smarmy cyber terrorists and takes a brute force approach to taking them down. In a sense, he’s the butt of a joke which only the viewers are in on. I wouldn’t consider McLane a detriment to the movie (after all, it is his movie), because I think that his juxtaposition with the other characters says a great deal about social and cinematic changes in the over the past 20 years. Here are a handful of possible interpretations:

• The cultural maturing which has occurred since the original Die Hard movie. What use to make McLane cool is now interpreted as socially unacceptable and/or juvenile
• A change in the genre, whereby unrealistic action thickheads from the 1980s are no longer the standout features of these movies
• McLane represents the values of the past clashing with the realities of the future
• A change in cultural and gender sensitivity where McLane’s comments regarding Mai are seen as racist and misogynist
• McLane is a metaphor for fathers/older males who are out of touch with technology and possibly their children too
• On the flipside, Die Hard 4.0 is obviously commenting on our reliance on digital technology

The villains, a bunch of computer-hacking university graduates, are lead by the nefarious Thomas Gabriel, who in his role struggles to show villainy.  Gabriel was formerly a programmer for the government who was fired from his position after finding a large security hole in the networking system and, typically for computer types, being pedantic about the issue to the point that he was sacked for his annoyance. Gabriel is therefore taking revenge the only way he knows how, by exploiting the security hole, in turn further proving his profound ability to annoy people in power. Timothy Olyphant is a little too young for his role and frankly an unappealing antagonist who seems to get angry at McLance just for anger’s sake.

Conclusion

There’s a whole bunch of essential information which the movie tries to make a point of (McLane’s wizz kid, side kick) which I haven’t mentioned because it’s obvious and laboured. Otherwise, Die Hard 4.0 is a good installment of the Die Hard series which I can’t bear to like for its failure to pull original action sequences from a premise which could offer many, McLane’s role as an awkward fit and the generous use of computer graphics in that one particular scene.

Additional Reading

The Lean, Mean, Macho Machine – Popmatters

(More thoughts on non-game related subjects, I know. Basically, I’m ploughing through other media (comics, manga, anime, movies) before I head overseas again, and hey, Okami has been sucking me dry for time. Expect more of this gear for the next few days. )

Ages ago I was given Casino Royale on Blu-ray as a Birthday present to use with the PS3. Considering I’d seen the movie with friends at the cinemas I didn’t feel the need to re-watch the movie in such a hurry, but the other day I decided to give my favourite Bond film a second viewing. Here are some of my observations:

Watching Casino Royale retroactively filled in the numerous mental blanks underpinning my confused reaction to Quantum of Solace. There was a two year gap between the movies, yet their themes (the friction between the mission and the love interest: Vesper) are very tightly bound. Furthermore, Quantum of Solace is a direct sequel, as in Bond literally begins from where he left off in Casino Royale, so confusion was sure to ensue. The movies are best watched in succession. With that considered, I’m not interested in watching Quantum of Solace again. You saw the movie, you know why, but fundamentally, Vesper was too smarmy and not worth watching Bond weep over.

Actually, let’s talk about Vesper. She’s both good looking AND intelligent which were points that previous Bond girls were keen to labour over in the extra features. Fair enough, when contrasted against the Bond Girls of the past, she’s peaking the recent trend into more capable female side kicks. I still didn’t like her though. Three reasons:

1) She’s indeed smart—and that’s a good thing—but the script is keen to make a point of it as though her intelligence is unusual or worthy of attention. On debut, the writers attempt to give her intellectual capital over Bond through their childish squabbling match, but it instead has the opposite effects, making the two protagonists seem like self-important aristocrats. Pricks.

2) She seems uncomfortable in her role, I don’t know if this is intentional (because she’s an accountant? Maybe) or just the actor (Eva Green) not suiting the part. Eva’s face always wears a sullen smile, as though she wants to be elsewhere, preferably not with Bond.

3) I don’t think that she suits the typical mold of a Bond girl either. It’s just her breasts and the desperate attempts the costume designers take to fit her in clothes which make them more apparent. It appears as though they’re trying to fit her into a strong female archetype (the business one) which doesn’t suit her, and therefore a sense of attractive which is incongruous with her natural look (which is supposedly French Gothic).

M, on the other hand, holds a stern presence over Bond, she is a strong female character not because she retorts Bond’s slick quips, but because she silences them. Vesper, plays Bond’s mind games because she thinks she can win, M grounds Bond in the reality where his games are nothing but trivial. Judy Dench is probably at her best in this installment, I’d wager. Overall though, I dig Solange Dimitrios, the ost, she’s so sensual and a bit of a throwback to the Roger Moore era. (I can’t justify that last point, I just have a feeling).

In general, the production is far superior to prior Bond movies. Grounding itself more firmly in reality and losing the fantastical elements which made Die Another Day so nauseating, Casino Royale has given the series a new lease on life. Shedding the shallow gender stereotypes and corny jokes also helped to make Bond more socially relevant in a more responsible world.

However, despite these comforting amenities, Casino Royale stands out for its brilliant action sequences. As an action movie buff, I evaluate set piece action sequences on two key qualities: 1) Originality 2) Realism. I chose these two points because I enjoy action sequences which mirror the themes, issues and vibe of the narrative and don’t rely on special effects. A great deal of action movies are loaded with trashy, senseless violence that contribute to the movie’s story or characterisation.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IPmJ73XRlUs

The parkour sequence is a great example of inspired action. Free-running is modern and very stylistic, yet it’d never been incorporated into a mainstream production before, particularly of this scale. Bond isn’t just running through streets and on roof tops though, the construction site setting further puts a twist on the already unique free running concept. The visceral, improvisation-heavy action sets a striking impression of the new James Bond.  The realism is also very much in check as everything which happens on screen was acted out. Sends chills down your spine just thinking about it, eh?

I think that summarises most of my thoughts, I’d just like to add a handful of ideas which I couldn’t fit in above:

• Casino Royale is gritty without being souless like its sucessor
• Jeffrey Wright plays the most evident Felix character in the series history
• God, the “ventolin moments” always happen at the most inconvenient time, I just can’t help but laugh
• Talking about ventolins, what’s the point of the pellet placed in Le Chiffre’s puffer? I didn’t catch that part

A lot of anime fans love Hellsing and at one stage so did I, then I saw past the pretension and became a hater. Don’t get me wrong, Hellsing has all the trappings to be the poster-child of stylised animated violence (no easy feat in this industry, mind you), yet it severely underperforms on execution.

From reading the manga, there’s no doubt about the gratuitousness and stylisation of the violence. The anime, in which case, simply doesn’t fully capitalise on the source material. Personally I think the problems lie in two areas: Pretension alluding to awesome gunplay and fight scenes and a major lack of animation to evidence not just the character’s colourful dialogue, but the pretension in general. Hellsing falls victim to the same characteristic flaws of Dragon Ball Z with camera panning, wind blowing and banter exchanging taking up the bulk of the action sequences.

Most of Hellsing‘s confrontations begin with a few exchanges of bombastic dialogue (diluted from the manga, but sufficient enough to be deemed offensive) interwoven among brief scenes of gunplay. The action is far too brief and usually relies on transitions of stills or other commonly used cost-cutting techniques to reduce the number of cells in the production. The handful of frames used are often copied and pasted to reverberate the action. The style is all in the right place—character design and colouring is brilliant and captures the gothic atmosphere wonderfully, however, with little animation to back it up, Hellsing is all talk and little action. No wonder the animated series has gone back to the drawing board for a second, more authentic adaption of the manga.

Complaints aside, Hellsing is only an ‘epic fail’ under the shadow of what it could’ve been. The trappings are still there though and they’re pretty tasty. The ridiculous dialogue suits the malevolent design well and the character designs are very iconic despite the frames lacking to give life to them. The villains behind the set piece confrontations of each episode are also very memorable and distinct. They all have a great deal of variety and pertain the series’ visual flair stylistically. Even if they’re spouting of moronic lines about raping pigs or wetting your pants in trepidation, they still maintain an assuring level of awesomeness that keeps with the series’ ethos. So despite the frame-lacking fight scenes there’s enough there to satisfy a purchase—if I were here to sell you a copy.

Before I conclude, I just want to mention that the follow narrative points which run alongside the action are all very interesting:

• exploration of being a vampire/member of the Hellsing organisation (through Victoria)
• the religious implications of an organisation the likes of Hellsing
• Alucard as the vampire slave to humans (a trope of the genre, I suppose)
• Hellsing’s position respective to the monarch and the media

(Recently I’ve written a stack of non-game related articles, but considering that very few people will read them, I’ve decided to post them here to fill the current gap in content. I hope you don’t mind.)

“I loved THE KILLING JOKE…It’s my favourite. It’s the first comic I’ve ever loved.”

-Tim Burton

I don’t think you could find a better recommendation to stick on the front of your comic book than Tim Burton’s advocation. The Killing Joke, for those not familiar, is an important piece of the Batman comic line for a few reasons. The Killing Joke reveals the Joker origin story and set the initial precedence for a more serious, psychological analysis of the Clown Prince and his counterpoise, The Dark Knight.

There are two main motifs throughout the story, one from either side of the see-saw. The first is Batman’s want to escape the suicide course that his dichotomy with The Joker has created. The second is Joker’s want to maintain this cycle. As far as Joker sees it, the only difference between Batman and himself is one bad day. One bad day, as the interludes of greyed out backstory depict, is what turned The Joker from an ordinary man into the Clown Prince, and what Joker attempts to re-enact on Commissioner Gordon.

The most impressive part of Moore’s interpretation of the Batman universe is the use of language and visuals to highlight continuity between characters, events and metaphors. The devices used to enter and exit The Joker’s flash back sequences are good examples. Such as how the issue of money is brought up when Joker is negotiating the purchase of the abandoned carnival and how this flows into the financial pressure burdening his former life where he earned little money as a comedian to support his wife. The flashback concludes with the former location pertaining a visual likeness to a scenery of the carnival.

This technique is thrown in more minutely too. The way the doors of a carnival ride become the doors of the bar where Joker was conned into committing his first criminal act, or the way Barbara clutching Batman’s cape inverts to Joker’s minions pulling Gordon by his open shirt.

On an initial read the book’s semblance is that of a typical Batman and Joker story, but a more astute reader will notice the way that the story-telling is calculated to represent the equilibrium of the forever-binding Batman-Joker relationship. It all culminates, to much irony, in a joke that both parties are in on in a way that invites the reader to further analyse the text.

The Killing Joke is an essential Batman comic, no doubt, however I’m inclined to agree with Moore’s own response to the book (“clumsy, misjudged and [devoid of] real human importance” ). The writing is solid but isn’t as polished as Moore’s other works in the way it presents deeper meaning. The Killing Joke still has an air of campiness to it that squashes it somewhat from making proper commentary of life outside the Batman universe. I don’t think that this should be taken as a real heavy criticism though, as this was the first time the Batman series had taken a more intellectual direction. In this regard,The  Killing Joke only feels pedestrian to the more refined interpretations of Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight (movie) which attacked the psychological nature of the comics in a more apparent manner. The midgets wearing S&M gear or Joker’s hollow attempt of turning Gordon insane are prime example of what I’d infer as the obscure juvenility of the comic book medium making its way through. Maybe I’m still too much of a newbie to comment here, but weird hyper violence and bombastic dialogue throw me as examples of distasteful and senseless comic book ‘tude. The Killing Joke, thankfully, isn’t off the charts in either regard.

Conclusion: Killing Joke is a text worth exploring, but less masterful than one might expect.

Additional Readings

The Alan Moore Interview: The Killing Joke and Brought to Light

The first DVD in the Trigun (1998) animated series comprises of five of the arguably best installments, kicking things off with an initial peak before settling comfortably into worthwhile. Trigun may appear misleading in this regard, warmly asserting the quality of writing and animation higher than it actually is, but I presume most animated series go through a wonky period where the producers are searching for a good balance of affordability and production. It’s just this one is a little more visible.

Trigun is compelling as it amalgamates a series of polar ideas together to create a familiar yet distinctively refreshing identity for itself. The main hero Vash, is dressed in a way which might have some viewers confuse him for the equally stylized Alucard from the (also popular) Hellsing manga/anime series. Both don the long red coats and wield guns with ultra long barrels, conducting themselves in a clam and sophisticated manner, but it’s here where Trigun diverges.

Vash is a pacifist gunman. Despite his ace marksmanship, he refuses to kill or even injure those who oppose him. When forced to play the reaper it burdens him to his emotional core. His personality has no vestige of hate; a pure soul who’s means (gun slinging) contradicts his ends (love and peace throughout the world). Vash only plays the ace gunslinger role when it is most appropriate though; when innocents are in danger. For the most part Vash’s personality switches between gentle, soft and caring, and self-deprecatingbuffoon with the most obscene laugh imaginable. His character is somewhat schizophrenic and colours the mood of the show, breaking up the serious action and drama from the comedic relief. He’s the device which achieves this, the one we all came here to see. When the two moods collide it also makes for interesting circumstances as Vash will hilariously attempt to avoid gun fire or shoot a round of lucky shots to cut himself a break. He’s skilled, no doubt, but his wacky natures subverts any perceived professionalism.

This latter point sets the scene for the series’ story. In recent times, a man known as Vash the Stampede has been causing a trail of destruction among townships on the dessert planet Gunsmoke. (As the name suggests, this series is steeped heavily in the wild west thematic). Originally Vash leveled the city of July. In response authorities placed a massive bounty over his head of 60,000,000,000$$ (sixty billion “double dollars”). As a run-off effect, bounty hunters begin searching the land in pursuit of Vash and the bounty on his head, themselves creating the destruction of which is believed to be the doing of Vash.

Meryl Stryfe and Milly Thompson, two insurance agents from The Bernardelli Insurance Society are instructed to also pursue the gunman, so that they can evaluate and report on the actual events, providing validity for the innumerous number of insurance claims filed due to Vash’s wave of destruction. Initially, after following the rumour vine they run into a man who fits the identity of Vash, yet due to this subverted professionalism, they’re unsure as to whether he is the Vash the Stampede. After continually running into Vash and the ensuing trail of destruction, the two come to much deliberation, before decided that he is the “Humanoid Typhoon”. Later a traveling Spike Spiegel-esque priest tags along as a support, making up the main cast.

The central casts have great dynamics among each other. Meryl and Milly for instance balance each other out. Meryl is short-tempered and always looking for affirmation, Milly is kind hearted and accepting of others, believing in reason.

Each episode follows the exploits which…follow Vash’s notorious reputation wherever he goes. The premise is very simple, Vash is travelling from town to town, the insurance girls try to inconspicuously follow him and trouble abounds. Usually a moral is attached to said trouble. The confrontations are always made interesting as each band of bounty hunters are elaborately designed to accentuate certain elements of their personality. The personality ties into the motives of the character and hence a different facet of the overriding moral of the Trigun series. It’s all very well executed with slick dialogue and an above average serving of cel animation.

Most episodes are self-contained, but when necessary the show will open into a multi-episode format to tell a single narrative. The entire run is mostly smooth, although there are occasional dips where the story and bounty hunters feel too iterative, but it quickly changes gears entering the later half.

For the early part of the series, the gun fights are played out without much consideration to why Vash, the pacifist gunman whom refuses to harm anyone, has been accused of such terrible acts. A past is peeled away at, but it isn’t until later that it is revealed, which is where things get a little weird. Randomly one of the episodes is set in space, where Vash and his brother Knives are discovered as plant-form humans and raised by the crew of a ship housing humans cryogenically frozen and ready for dropping on another planet. (Yeah, we totally messed up with Earth.) Rei, a young lady on the ship is the care taker and defacto mother of the two boys. She defends the normality of the children against disagreeing members of the crew. I think she is voiced by the same actor who did Hinoto in X. Rei teaches passes down her philosophies of pacifism and resolution without harm to the two boys. Knives believes otherwise, thinking that sacrifice is a mandatory part of resolution and hence walks down the path of the villain while Vash adopts Rei’s ideals. This point of separation is the ideological conflict of the series; resolution with or without sacrifice.

The backstory continues with Knives killing the crew (Rei included) and landing on the deserted GunSmoke with Vash along with a series of pods with the preserved humans. Vash, distraught from the Knive’s action and newfound tyrannical attitude towards Vash, shoots the maniac in the leg with a gun he provides (the same one he uses in the series) and flees. Some hundred years later, where Vash is now an adult, he carries out the destruction of July.

As the series enters it’s later half and Vash is challenged by the Gung-Ho Guns, a group under Knives who seek to harm Vash by forcing him to hurt themselves and others. It’s a No More Heroes sort of set up, with Vash facing off against the radical personalities. The Gung-Ho Guns bring to surface Vash’s more recent past, forcing a recreation of the July city incident (which originally made Vash notorious) where Vash’s arm, against his own will turned into a super cannon which destroyed much of the area. The reoccurence of this event (albeit, in a different location) is seemingly conducted by Knives, but the story doesn’t make this too clear, besides that it is all unintentional of Vash’s behalf – still, very weird. Teamed with accidental killings and inflictions of harm, Vash is haunted, particularly during this later half of the show. It makes him ashamed of his own creation.

This aspect of Vash’s identity cast him as the misunderstood hero, again; a clash of polar logics. He uses guns to demote the use of violence. He is a pacifist who has destroyed the lives of many people. His personality switches from serious to light hearted on a whim. These complexities craft a genuinely deep character, despite the ludicrous logic that he’s a plant who can turn his arm into a mega proton cannon. This history, while in some regards emotionally pulling (ie. his long lasting sympathy of Rei), is definitely a detriment to the series as it simply leaps beyond logic, becoming entangled in its immodesty. I enjoyed the series more as the misadventures of Vash the Stampede rather than attempting to elaborate on something which didn’t have to be played up to begin with.

Knives continues to toy with Vash’s personal beliefs as he takes control of GunSmoke’s populace and forces them to commit suicide. Vash then travels through a lull period while he grapples with his past regrets, once this is over, the series steadfastly approaches its conclusion where Vash and Knives face off in the final episode. Overall Trigun is a fantastic anime series which I thoroughly enjoyed, besides the weird, unnecessary parts of course.

I’m going to try something new today and not write about video games. In it’s place I want to discuss an anime series that I recently watched to competition. I guess you can call me a fan of anime. I have far more anime than I have regular DVDs, although considering I rarely buy DVDs or Bluray movies, that’s not saying much. Years ago I snapped up a series of single-cased boxsets on the cheap including Cowboy Beebop, Hellsing, Trigun and other prominent animated franchises. Since all those years ago, I’ve still watched very little, so I’ve decided add them to my massive media binge. The first series up is the X animated series.

X is the animated series of manga and featured movie of the same name, produced by all female manga quartet CLAMP. It tells the story of Kamui Shiro, a boy returning to Tokyo to fulfill his role as a Dragon of Heaven in the forthcoming final battle between two Kamuis which shall decide the fate of the planet. On the other side of the fence are the Dragons of Earth who fight for a revolution; where all mankind is destroyed and life begins at zero. The Dragons of Heaven fight for the contrary; the survival of mankind. Each group contain six key members, a dream seer and a Kamui; the one who will fight in the final battle.

The series follows Kamui’s return to Tokyo, meeting up with childhood friends Fuma and Kotori, and battling the demons of his fate. The first half of the 6-DVD collection trace his transition from sourpuss to fairly likable hero, while meeting up with the other Dragons of Heaven and Hinoto, the dream seer and defacto group coordinator. As the members slowly happen upon each other, forming their growing union, minor confrontations with individual members of the Dragons of Earth take place. Many of these confrontations are related to the shingen, two swords, one for either Kamui, primed for the final battle, as well as Kamui’s integration into school life (which the series soon forgets). The first half of the series highlights Kamui’s troubled past and relations to his close friends, Fuma and Kotori, who he vows to protect.

Entering the latter half of the series, Fuma realizes his fate as the Kamui (is the protagonist’s name as well as their role, as such) for the Dragons of Earth. His voice deepens, eyes become red, transforming his persona. His transition is completely unfounded and random. Fuma attacks Kamui and murders a bounded Kotori in front of Kamui, declaring their twin destinies. Afterwards he goes off in search of Kanoe, the sister of Hinoto, a seductress who can peeping-tom her way into Hinoto’s dreams. With their alignment, the Dragons of Earth unite as one for the final battle.

Leading up to this illustrious final battle, the confrontations escalate as Fuma pursues the Dragons of Heaven. This leads into some mini-twists and then the final battle ensues.

The story isn’t particularly clear nor logical and only needs to be interpreted as the gatherings of two schools of thought, preparing for a battle which will decide their fate. The battles are cushioned by sequences dealing with abstract phenomena such as destiny, fate, dreams, wishes and the future. These scenes picturize the abstract dichotomy of good and evil, determined and undetermined futures, and humanity’s role on the earth as to whether we have sinned or not in our destruction of the planet. These scenes use feathers, cherry blossoms, ripples of water, angelic forms of Kamui and other reoccurring elements to paint these abstract enigmas in a mostly visually provocative manner. Many of the scenes don’t match the visual quality or level of cel animation of the animated movie but are interesting nonetheless.

The music, particularly the quiet piano and rich crescendo are well done, yet overall the music fails to encapsulate the dread of the feature film. Perhaps the weaker sound and visual design can be in some ways attributed to the PG rating which takes the chill off the haunting imagery from the movie. I guess this is also to be expected of the format too; being a series rather than a film. Either way, X hammers the PG rating pretty hard with plenty of blood, some bedroom scenes, abstract bondage and prostitute-client and minor-adult relationships too.

The characters are a range of anime tropes featuring a familiar cast of voices – just don’t ask me to name the actors, okay? Each episode focuses on a character’s history, linking the self-contained narrative elements of the episode to their past in a fashion not dissimilar to Lost. This is usually a trauma or bad memory of some type created by the Heaven/Earth member’s magical powers and the stigma it’s marked them with. Even though everyone has super natural powers, each distinct (that was a given, right?) the people themselves are normal citizens which harmonize their relations. Besides the air-headed babble about destiny, twin stars and the future, everyone bar Fuma is well grounded.

Overall, I haven’t much opinion on X. I probably wouldn’t greatly recommend it to anyone, the plot is nonsensical, Kamui is fairly emo before he evolves into an semi-likable hero and the animation and action sequences are pretty standard but never rip-snortingly so. Still, I personally have a thing for this series, despite its shortcomings which is worth something.

Additional Readings

X Manga Page on CLAMP-Net

Visions of Kamui Shiro

X Wallpapers – Anime Wallpapers