HellKorn's Anime

May the Omori-Takagi duo never run out of work.

"Tragedy porn" is, I believe, an apt phrase for describing works such as this. "Emotional voyeurism" is also another term I've seen used. The means are an end itself -- the writing and direction brew up scenarios that are meant to make the audience cry, and that's that. It's like showing a puppy getting beaten to death and calling it an "emotional masterpiece." Suffice to say, it's easy as hell to make people cry; it requires absolutely minimal ability and knowledge of the medium, so by premise alone people already know that they're in for a good cry, rather than letting the competency and talent of the director and screenwriter actually create a more nuanced and realistic emotional experience.

Elfen Lied is an otaku title. So is Gunslinger Girl, Air, Kanon, Rumbling Hearts, et cetera. They all have their respective ways of conveying fan service, some sexual, others emotional. It's the capitalist notion of moe, where those with the creative swing (i.e. money) know that they can create these stories and leech off the emotional and/or sexual void that otaku wish to fill. Or, as the esteemed translator Stephen Paul put it, "The cruel ironic joke that is moe, eliciting the desire to protect and provide from the people least capable of even taking care of themselves, a poisoned fang that keeps them from forming real personal relationships and distances themselves from reality, sucked further into the cynical economic machine that preys on unpopular men."

It's a different kind of manipulation than a story where we follow realistic, human situations where tragedy may strike; people wax poetic about Mayu's Tragic Past, but then they haven't read A Tale of One Bad Rat, a story that creates real human beings of actual childhood abuse. It's the abstract that appeals to them -- sexual childhood abuse makes me sad, and so when it's shown in fiction, I'm sad, therefore the story is Excellent. Of course.

I suppose we could pull the "subjectivity card": that art only exists upon interpretation, and that creative intentions mean fuck-all when it comes to assessing any given film, novel, comic, album, et cetera. But I can't see that as anything but bullshit, though. Nothing exists in a vacuum; by the same logic, we could present arguments about Dragon Ball Z being of the same depth and craft as Citizen Kane, and no one is going to suggest that. Even if they can be bent due to personal experience, there is a common desire for defining innate values and elements of any given object. Are we to then say that shots of Yoko's breasts in Gainax are not fan service, but "artistic sexuality"? That all opinions are equally aware, informed and argued?

The source material has a girl who wears diapers and wets her pants, and the anime adaption is handled by a anime production company that primarily does hentai. There's cat ears, convenient amnesia, moe catchphrases ("Nyu! Nyu!"), love interests that span from a childhood friend to a cousin, generic character designs, long and leering camera angles on the nude figures of the female characters, the Diclonious almost completely being female (and nude to boot! After all, we can't have male diclonious, and nude at that!)... Hell, we even have limbs beings torn apart with gallons of blood. Andrew Cunningham proposed that, with these elements and more, that the manga and anime are more of mean-spirited parodies of romantic comedies, with more than unhealthy doses of moe and ultra-violence thrown in -- subscribing to this viewpoint depends on whether you're the type to take it seriously or not.

I mean, if you are able to take the nakedly manipulative premise of Gunslinger Girl seriously, then you'll probably have no qualms with this. If you can't take either seriously, well, there's that. I suppose there is an argument to be made that the anime crew take this Quite Seriously, given, say, the Very Important Episode Titles, or the Gustav Klimt homage in the opening theme, but then it becomes pathetic in its overreach about Violence! Abuse! Evolution! Monsters! Redemption! Allusion becomes the illusion for depth, which is one of the quickest routes to pretentiousness. It has nothing to say other than proclaiming these themes over and over again, and ends with mere manipulation for the sake of it.

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.

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.

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.

Slight compared to Mononoke, but also quite fun. A sophisticated sitcom with amazing art direction.

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.