This Week in Anime

Summit of the Gods is a Serious Oscar Contender

Nicky
Steve, spare me, I can barely speak Spanish. But while romance languages aren't my strong suit, there's some languages that speak for themselves. One of those being animation. It's highly accessible. Just look for yourself and hear the beauty of the wind as it braces against cold hard rock. This week, we're translating The Summit of the Gods.

The French are no strangers to animation and comics. They're rather big consumers of manga and we've already had several Franco-anime co-pros so it's not actually that out there. And like the times when we have reviewed animation outside of Japan or other related adaptions, it's less about delineating or defining pieces of this big medium, but how we think anime fans or even non-anime fans might feel approaching them.

After all, the big world of art, film, and animation can sometimes feel super intimidating! So consider us your guides as we travel through them.

It's not a good animated movie unless you put some real love into those backgrounds. They have this particular thick watercolor quality/paper texture and some shots are even made to look closer to a traditional camera. It's highly appropriate given that the original novel came out in 1998. But it has this added effect of making everything feel more real but distant as things begin to wash out and fade. It adds a real sense of scale, whether it's the city lights or the lower mountain ranges from the peak's top.

There's also some great love for analogue tech like these cassette tapes. The sound mixing of the little clicks and clacks these technologies make really bolsters it.

It's an extremely grounded film that captures the real dangers of this sport. Normally, I feel like most people would expect this story about a climbing photographer and journalist trying to track down a lead to be easier to translate to live-action, and Jiro Taniguchi's manga already had that in 2016. But while Taniguchi's style leans towards realism, there's a real distinctive quality to his art and faces that I think this film captures well, even when people are talking. There's a lot of facial mannerisms you wouldn't pick up on as much on a real actor.

But also, this film displays many real beautiful and notoriously difficult mountains that are pretty dangerous to film on. I don't think the studio picked up this story simply because animation is cheaper and safer for certain locations. It just brings you into the moment a lot easier than what's possible for live-action.

Oh yeah, this film is super haunting in more ways than one. While tied to Fukamachi's investigation of Habu and their personal lives, it's not without it's moments of existentialism. There's the quiet isolating experience of being alone with nature, the terrifying feeling of literally being one slip away from your own death, or the extreme weight of grief that Habu faces throughout the film. Even just watching someone wait to freeze to death is such a slow but thrilling experience.

Part of what really sold me is the soundtrack. While the climbers make their ascent you can really feel the tension in the strings as some of the climbers hold onto dear life with only pieces of rope. There's many humming synths for the cityscapes, or the clattering of drums while both Habu and Fukamachi pack up their respective equipment for the road, or the gawping sound of a deep cavern. Lots of clever emphasis via the instrumentation!

Yeah, the focus on mountain climbers specifically being tied to their obsessions reminded me a lot of Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air. Specifically, for mountaineers, there's some truth to it. Many live for danger, the competition, or the majestic elements of it.

Basically, I realized mountaineering is actually just what sporty people do instead of speedrunning Mario games. On the sincere side of things, I can't say that I don't relate as someone who's totally tied to their obsession with animation.

So let me elaborate on their motives. Fukamachi, having hit a standstill in his career and unsatisfied with his work, is confronted in Nepal by a guy trying to pawn him a supposedly legendary pocket camera. He turns it down, but finds Habu, who had been missing for years, retrieving it in a back alley. The significance of the camera is that it supposedly belonged to George Mallory who had attempted to climb the summit in 1924, an expedition in which no one ever returned. But quickly it becomes less about the camera and more about Fukamachi trying to discover the truth about Habu, so the camera itself isn't as significant as a journalist's nose for wanting to discover the nature of things and what kind of person Habu is to want to make him disappear.

That's great and also horrifying to know. I can always count on you, Steve.

But I think the real centerpiece character of the film is Habu Joji. Seen above. He's a talented, fearless, and reckless athlete who doesn't quit on his ambitions even when he really should.

"Yeah, I would kill my (climbing) partner if it meant reaching my own goals. What's the big deal about that?" Great casual conversation, Habu.

Clearly not a metaphor about a man who struggles with interpersonal relationships.

Yeah, it's noted that he constantly disregards his climbing partners. He's selfish and only cares about his own accomplishments. He uses others to climb higher but he still thinks of them as a burden and a liability. Here's his ex-partner talking to Fukamachi, years later.

And obviously that goes about how'd you expect. With Habu feeling extremely responsible after. He let this lad who isn't nearly experienced enough to keep up follow him. In a way, that made him feel extremely inadequate, until he had felt like he had no choice but to cut his own rope. It's an event that only fuel's Habu's fears and he begins to only do solo climbs so he would never have to face what happened again.

That's one line in the film that speaks more metaphorically to me and not so much for the actual circumstances. Either way, Buntaro committed suicide and it becomes very hard for the living to cope with that, even if their interpretation isn't 100% perfect.

Yeah, and there's no scarier way to die than to simply die alone. Habu's rival, Tsuneo, perished while making a solo climb. Probably the closest person he had to a friend at that point in his life. When Fukamachi finds him Habu has no one. When they're climbing, Habu is always ahead of him while Fukamachi follows. Despite the great risks though, Fukamachi doesn't ever turn back on trying to get closer to Habu. Not when his boss tells him that it's worthless, not when he's frantically following him up the snow, and not even on the brink of death.

Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact that they have different jackets, I don't think I would've been able to tell them apart at some points.

I also like that it's eventually Habu that saves Fukamachi. I expected the other way around. Habu talks a lot about how he didn't want to deal with anyone and how doing so would only kill both of them but he goes out and does it anyways. It feels like a second chance, or a way of atoning.

And the result is just real intimacy.

It's a mesmerizing little moment. You see that Habu totally understands who he is but he also understands that he can't change and you have to just kind of respect him for it. Even this big mountain feels like such a humble triumph in that perspective. He knows there's no salvation for himself but it's satisfying to seem him content.

Yeah, it's a great little film and I'm excited to see if I can make time to catch it in a (very empty) theater permitting everything. But it was still pretty satisfying watching it at home. Plus, I actually watched the English dub after switching tracks a bit and I found it to be pretty good and keeping with the naturalism.