Category: anime

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anime

“Spirited Away”: A Fairy Tale for Adults

Spirited Away (Sen to Chihiro no kamikakushi) is a Studio Ghibli animated film directed by Miyazaki Hayao. Miyazaki announced his retreat from his career as an animation director after the making of Mononoke Princess (1997), and later returned to the industry in 2001 with this adventurous masterpiece. The long list of awards and accolades that this film garnered, including the Academy Award for Best Animated feature of 2003, marked Miyazaki’s comeback as a great success. Despite its being in the family animation genre, Spirited Away is not a movie purely for the viewing pleasure of children. “It is for those adults who were once a ten-year-old kid,” as stressed by Miyazaki, “and for those children who are becoming ten years old.”

The story begins with a ten-year-old girl, Chihiro, and her parents driving on the way to their new home in a suburb. During the trip, they find themselves lost and park in front of a mysterious tunnel entrance. Out of curiosity, Chihiro’s parents decide to find out what lies behind the tunnel. They discover a secret underworld behind the entrance, which looks like an artificial town built in the style of 19th century Japan. While Chihiro senses insecurity and insists on leaving, Chihiro’s parents are attracted by an unattended restaurant filled with palatable food. They start pigging out and keep eating the food until, after a short time, they are turned into pigs by a curse. Terrified, Chihiro runs into the town and encounters groups of bodiless Japanese spirits and gods entering a spectacular bathhouse. At the same time, she finds her body turning transparent, but is saved from disappearing completely by a boy named Haku. Haku is an apprentice of Yubaba — a powerful sorceress who rules the bathhouse and overlooks the town. With Haku’s help, Chihiro obtains a job as a worker in the bathhouse, and in exchange her name is abbreviated to ‘Sen’ by Yubaba. After a few days of work, Chihiro turns out to be a diligent and wholehearted worker. During her stay in the enchanted underworld, Chihiro is always reminded by Haku that she must remember her original name and break the spell on her parents in order to return to her world. Haku himself regrets that he is unable to remember his original identity. To repay Haku’s help, Chihiro starts a journey to look for Haku’s real identity and to search for an antidote for her parents’ curse.

As suggested by its original Japanese title Sen to Chihiro no kamikakushi (the spiriting away of Sen and Chihiro), the film heavily focuses on Chihiro’s character development. Throughout the film, she has undergone a dramatic change in her behaviour and personality. In the beginning of the film, Chihiro behaves as a lazy, sullen, timid, and bad-mannered girl who cares about nothing more than herself. During the car trip, she reacts passively to her new home, and does not feel very excited about receiving the first banquet in her life. She is so craven that a little monster statue standing in front of the tunnel entrance makes her shiver. In the scene in which she asks Yubaba for a job, she does not knock on the door before she enters the room, nor is she polite in her request. Both knocking on the door and talking to a senior politely are considered basic manners in the Japanese tradition. As her work in the bathhouse continues, Chihiro starts to conform to more considerate manners. She attentively follows Yubaba’s order to serve the Stinky God, and she behaves humbly when serving this extremely difficult customer. She also learns to feel grateful to those who treat her kindly, like Haku, as she dares to risk her job just to help him. In the end of the film, even if the faceless spirit turns into a horrifically gigantic monster, Chihiro manages to sit down and talk to him calmly. This scene demonstrates that there is no timidity in Chihiro anymore.

Despite the fact that Chihiro’s initial manners are not culturally favourable, her ability to resist temptation is much appreciated in the film. The resistance against materialistic desires is seen as an important theme of the film, as Miyazaki makes heavy use of symbolism throughout the film to emphasize it. Chihiro’s parents are punished by being turned into pigs because of their gluttony. As suggested by many religious texts and cultural doctrines, such as the Seven Deadly Sins, food usually symbolizes the consumption of physical and material pleasure. By punishing Chihiro’s parents, the story delivers the message that the pursuit of pure carnal delights will only turn human beings into beasts and will not bring genuine happiness to the soul. The faceless spirit is another example of a pure soul contaminated by materialistic desires. In the film, we can see that the more the spirit eats, the more savage and angry he becomes. After swallowing the medicine given by Chihiro, the faceless spirit vomits up everything he has gulped and returns to a calm and friendly state. He then finds pleasure in doing simple tasks such as weaving clothes for a granny. Chihiro, on the other hand, retains her indifferent attitude towards materialism through the end. She resists the seduction of scrumptious free food, and rejects the lure of gold from the faceless. Her ability to resist material temptation prevents her from turning into an animal like her parents did, and finally leads her to a successful escape from the underworld.

Many critics describe Spirited Away as the Japanese version of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. The film indeed carries an ample number of fairy tale elements and symbolism that resemble those in Alice in Wonderland. However, if we are to say that Alice in Wonderland is an inspirational story born out of pure imagination, Spirited Away is more of a thoughtful piece that is heavily based on traditional Japanese culture. The architecture and the spirits that we see in the magical underworld did not come from Miyazaki’s imagination.  Many of them in fact originate from collections of traditional Japanese mythologies. By including a large number of traditional elements in the film, Miyazaki constructs a conflict between the traditional moral doctrines of temperance and the modern trend of materialism. Miyazaki’s style of artistic aesthetics also makes Spirited Away a visually inspiring film. Overall, the film is packed with suspense, action, moral conflicts, and artistic inspirations, which together make the film a highly enjoyable and thoughtful one.

Categories
anime anti-war drama, melodrama

Film Review of “Hotaru no haka” (Grave of the Fireflies)

Takahata Isao’s 1988 animation film Hotaru no haka (Grave of the Fireflies) tells a heartwarming but sad story of a fourteen-year-old brother and his little younger sister, who have to survive under the cruel war. It is worth mentioning that this piece has been regarded by some Western movie commentators as one of the most influential anti-war movies. This Japanese animation film is worth winning our attention because of its technical achievements alone: the use of fantastic and delicate color and beautiful background music. By these accomplishments, Hotaru no haka will probably always attract audiences from many countries and of different generations, however, from my point of view, the reason why the film is so fascinating is that it reflects the destruction of the war on Japanese society. The film may be more important as it attempts to show the disaster caused by the war on human society to all audiences especially for people who has experienced wars.

As a film with a clear war/anti-war theme, the indictment for the war is primarily focused on the ravages of the war on society and individuals. In the movie, the characters’ family could have been very happy: their mother is beautiful and elegant, and their father is a naval officer, who is respected by other people, however, the cruel war took away the lives of their parents. Thus, these two poor kids become orphans. Although it could be luck for them to escape from the bomb raid, they have lost their happy family forever and have to face hunger. I found myself totally attracted by the honest description of the two characters’ suffering about the war from one scene the most. It is a scene that the brother is playing in the water with his younger sister at the beach. The relentless war can’t stop the deep feelings between the brother and his younger sister. At this time, the recall is expanding and the brother’s mind is gradually filled by memories: in the same place during the peacetime when their mother was still alive, they were so happy as they could play carefree and plenty of fine food was waiting for them to eat. Soon, his mind pulled back by the fighters’ sound…Therefore, Hotaru no haka provides the audiences with an honest look at how such war is in the Japanese history. What this film highlights, however, is not only the true reflection of the destruction of the war on the society but also how it presents human nature throughout this cruel war. From my point of view, what the film wants to display in addition to the mutilation of the relentless war on human is that under such extreme living conditions, human nature exists beyond all. I still remember the scene in which the brother degenerates into a thief and shouts “let the bomb come” violently.

After watching this film, I would like to present some personal views about some previous war/anti-war films that were manufactured in China. In most of our previous war/anti-war films, the description of the war is different in our movies. Our soldiers are always very brave and wise while the enemy is in the country. We always win, the enemies always fail. Rather than demonstrating the performance of human nature in the war/anti-war film, our film shows too much of our courage, wisdom, tenacity and strength. How come such unreal portrayal which lacks a description of human nature can strongly touch audiences’ hearts!

In conclusion, I consider this film as the best war/anti-war film I have ever watched and strongly recommend it to people who haven’t seen it yet.

Categories
anime literary adaptations science-fiction

“Paprika” and the Chaotic Dream Surfing

Probably one of the most bizarre movies I have ever seen, Paprika, a 2006 anime film directed by Kon Satoshi which was adapted from the novel written by Tsutsui Yasutaka, is definitely not an ordinary animated film intended for child entertainment. Featuring the voice of renowned Japanese voice actor Hayashibara Megumi (as Dr. Chiba/Paprika), Paprika will leave you confounded, amazed, and craving for more. This film is about a team of research psychologists who invented a therapeutic device, called D.C. Mini, that can be utilized to treat patients’ disorders by delving into their dreams and venturing the subconscious to figure out the source of their anxieties. Dr. Chiba Atsuko, the head of the research team, however, has been using this device to treat patients beyond the bounds of their facility through her dream world alter ego, Paprika. Among her patients is Mr. Toshimi Konakawa, the police detective, who has been plagued by mysterious recurring dreams that always end up with a man shot dead and a person running away from the scene. Chaos ensues when three of the prototypes have been stolen; and since these devices haven’t been completed, nor approved by the government, the user has the ability to invade dreams and wreck havoc in people’s lives – among the victims are Dr. Tokita Kōsaku, the inventor of the device, and his assistant, Himuro Kei. It is up to Paprika now to trace the culprit and try to prevent the illusion from completely merging with reality. Intense, exciting, unpredictable twists are definitely a few of the highlights of this movie. Interestingly, this was also an inspiration for the creation of the movie, Inception, which was a recent blockbuster film directed by Christopher Nolan, starring Leonardo Di Caprio (Wikimedia Foundation, Inc, 2010).

The most prominent, thought-provoking part of the movie is definitely the plot which leaves most viewers baffled and seeking for explanation and clarification. One can never really guess what’s coming next, because the unfolding events carry unexpected twists. If you are about to watch this movie, chances are, you would not understand it at first. You would probably need to take a little time to piece scenes up and try to make sense out of the picture, or better yet, re-watch the entire film. The juggling between dreams and reality, the merging of illusions, and the chaotic combination of the real world and the land of dreams, which corresponds more to its negative or nightmarish aspect for the purpose of this movie, contribute to its perplexing nature. One scene that was hard to tell if it was reality or illusion, for me, is the part where Konakawa goes on his computer and visits a website which literally and personally takes him to a bar where he meets Paprika to discuss his psychological condition. Paprika is an entity that only shows up in dreams whenever Dr. Chiba uses the D.C. Mini. It is not clear how his entire body appears to be physically present, talking face-to-face with her, since he is last shown as just sitting in front of a computer. The boundary between reality and illusion is not clearly set since there are no scenes particularly showing the use of the psychotherapeutic machine, D.C. Mini, prior to entering dreams other than when Dr. Tokita applies it to himself to visit his friend and assistant’s dream. Unlike watching “The Matrix” where the division is evident – before setting off to the artificial world, the process of hooking up the characters to machines that allow them to enter is directly shown – this movie has been devoid of most this real world-dream world connection. Viewers are set to assume that the D.C. Mini is being used whenever the scene seems non-sensical and fantastical.

The confusion brought about by the plot draws focus to the animation that is so outlandish yet incredible in nature, it ties up to the theme of the movie – the concept of dreams and its illusory aspects. Dreams are not supposed to make sense sometimes, but depending on what they are about, they can either be enjoyed or feared. Yet no matter the content, dreams can be whimsical and filled with events that we would never expect to happen in real life. This is what this film is all about – exploring the impossible through animation. As an avid anime watcher in my younger years, I’m used to seeing over-the-top, beyond normal or real world animations, but this one has a dark, creepy tone to it, which may cater to non-anime fans. This tone is somehow lightened up with scenes that are lively and full of color, such as the circus and the parade. However, even if it is something that might capture children’s attention, the creepiness exhibited through the appearing and disappearing of the Japanese geisha doll in the hollow body of Dr. Shima, the chief of the research department, during the dream parade, as well as the capacity of Dr. Osanai, another researcher who has deep admiration for Dr. Chiba, to let his hand enter Paprika’s body, ripping it apart to reveal her real naked (yes, there is nudity) identity when he has the opportunity to capture her, will definitely send shivers down the spine. Viewers may find the series of events baffling, but they will never miss the excellent animation and the intensity of the details in every sequence. The distortion of reality and the fusion of illusion and truth are beautifully illustrated. According to Rob Nelson of The Village Voice, Paprika “isn’t a movie that’s meant to be understood so much as simply experienced – or maybe dreamed” (Wikimedia Foundation, Inc, 2010).

If you are into creepy, well-created, mature, and mind-boggling anime movies, then this is the perfect movie for you. This will definitely keep your brain and your eyes entertained for the entire duration of the film. Pair up the confusing plot with lots of eye-catching visuals and you’ll be gaping for the whole hour and a half. For a more fulfilling experience, make sure to film your reaction all throughout the movie – it might be as entertaining as the movie itself.

Source:

Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. “Paprika (2006 film)”. Wikipedia: The Free Dictionary. November 6, 2010. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paprika_%282006_film%29 Retrieved November 1, 2010.

Categories
anime

“Ponyo”

The movie that I had the opportunity to view for the second film review is called Ponyo, Gake no Ue no Ponyo, which was written and directed by Miyazaki Hayao in 2008.  Prominent English voice actors in the dubbed version feature Cate Blanchett, Matt Damon, Frankie Jonas, Noah Cyrus, Tina Fey, and Liam Neeson.  This film is a Japanese animation produced by Disney and Studio Ghibli and thus falls into the anime genre.

Ponyo is a story about a little goldfish that lives in the ocean and becomes friends with a boy when he saves her.  She falls in love with him and wants to become human.   The little boy, Sosuke, finds Ponyo after she escapes from her father and the story follows how after she is recaptured Ponyo challenges her father about becoming a human, escapes from her ‘prison’, and imbibes a massive amount of magical elixirs.  She then sets out to find Sosuke, and by doing so upsets the balance between nature and man, as storms erupt and tsunamis wash over Japan.  After Ponyo is reunited with Sosuke, it is decided by her mother that should Sosuke pass a test to prove his love for Ponyo, Ponyo will be able to become human.

This film values respect towards the natural world and environment and criticizes the pollution, lack of care, and ignorance of man and their destruction of the natural world.  There are scenes that display the ‘disgusting’ habits of men, in addition to comments made by certain characters that support this claim.  Fujimoto, Ponyo’s father, in a scene where he is following along underwater after Ponyo is picked up by Sosuke, is continuously pelted by debris and garbage thrown into the water.  He is later deterred by sludge and slime churned up by the motor of a boat.  Fujimoto expresses his loathing of humans with a resounding “humans are disgusting!” and complains about “all this waste, filth.”  Dissatisfaction towards those who do not respect nature is revealed by another comment by Fujimoto about how humans “treat [their] home like their empty black souls.”  Criticism is directed at humans and their lack of respect, understanding of the magnitude of the power that nature possesses, and reverence of the natural world.  Man’s ignorance and careless attitude towards nature is addressed through incidents that reveal the power of natural forces and they realize how much for granted they have taken this world for.  Respect for nature in Ponyo is encouraged through thematic issues such as maintaining the balance between the natural world and the human world and placing emphasis on harmony between the two.  Respect is also cultivated through the revelation of the amount of destruction and pollution that man inflicts upon the Earth.  The beautiful animation by Miyazaki also serves to display the beauty of nature that man is surrounded by in their sea-surrounded town.

An important character that represents a lot of themes and motifs in this film is Ponyo’s mother.  Her character symbolizes Mother Nature and mother to all things.  She is the Goddess of the Sea, or as her English version titles her, Gran Mamare.  During a scene in the film she is also labeled as the Goddess of Mercy.  Gran Mamare is depicted as an awe-inspiring beautiful woman whose presence is heralded by golden light and magical creatures by her side.  Her constant association to the ocean and water represents the relationship between magic, nature, and the human world.  Water symbolizes fertility and life, and water is a recurring motif in Ponyo.  Examples include how Sosuke lives on a cliff surrounded by the ocean, the tsunami that Ponyo travels by to reach Sosuke, Fujimoto’s claim that the sea must be kept in balance to prevent Earth’s destruction, and Gran Mamare.  Another aspect of Gran Mamare that relates life to her identity is her images as the Goddess of Mercy, of compassion.  When the tsunami sweeps many boats off-course, she saves the stranded sailors at sea and helps enable them to return home.  Also, because of her love for Ponyo, Gran Mamare proposes that Ponyo have the opportunity to become human.  At the end of the film, Gran Mamare is the only one who can restore the balance of nature and proclaim that “life begins again.”  As she leaves, she grows larger and larger and encompasses everyone, while also reducing the level of the tsunami floods so that everyone can live again.  This image parallels to the message that humans are surrounded by life and the knowledge of how much impact nature has on their livelihoods.

I highly recommend everyone to watch this film.  Not only are important themes like respect for nature, love, and friendship discussed, other themes such as courage, and community are also addressed.  In addition, the work of Miyazaki Hayao’s Ponyo is visually stunning.  The animation is beautiful and the landscape shots are so detailed that one is able to actually able to see the brush strokes that contribute to texture.  And the animation for Gran Mamare was the beast.  She was drawn so magnificently and the additional glow or aura that surrounded her was beautiful, as were the colours that were used for her character.  Ponyo and Sosuke were too cute for words, and even though they are young, they show how love and friendship are not bound by age or race.  Ponyo is a must-watch that will appeal to both older and younger audiences.

Categories
anime experimental literary adaptations

“Akira”: A Visual Feast of Decay, Destruction and Rebirth

Akira, released in 1988, is a science-fiction anime movie directed by Otomo Katsuhiro and based on his 6-volume manga series of the same name. Set in 2019 in post-war Neo-Tokyo, the movie follows the leader of a youth bike gang, Kaneda, as he attempts to rescue his gang friend, Tetsuo, who has been kidnapped and is being subjected to scientific experimentation.
The movie begins with a shot of what appears to be an atomic explosion that annihilates Tokyo in 1988, signaling the start of World War III. Viewers are then fast-forwarded to the post-war city of Neo-Tokyo in 2019, a monstrous neon metropolis built on an artificial island in the middle of Tokyo Bay. Here, viewers are presented with scenes of chaos: bike gang battles, anti-government rioting, and terrorism. The storyline begins by following a bike gang, led by Kaneda, as they fight another gang, the Clowns. During a chase scene with the Clowns, Kaneda’s friend, Tetsuo, crashes his bike into #26, a child-mutant produced by scientific experiments, and is seriously injured. Army personnel arrive at the scene and take #26 and Tetsuo back to their laboratories. Kaneda comes into contact with the resistance group that had tried to kidnap #26, and joins them in an attempt to rescue Tetsuo from further scientific experimentation. However, they are too late, and discover that Tetsuo has already been turned into a mutant being with supernatural powers. After laying waste to security forces that try to contain him, Tetsuo goes in search of Akira, a legendary entity that supposedly sparked the 1988 explosion. Kaneda continues his mission, but must now save Tetsuo from himself. The two meet near, and eventually inside, the Olympic Stadium where they fight in an epic showdown before Tetsuo begins to completely lose control of himself and his powers.
The funding, resources, and manpower needed to create Akira were made possible by a consortium of Japanese entertainment companies called the Akira Committee, an entity that became the movie’s producer. Such strong financial backing allowed Otomo to devote a large amount of resources and time to the animation process. As a result, viewers will notice the detail put into the animation technique used in Akira, cel-shading, is extremely precise. The intricacy and density of the cels gives Akira an unprecedented feeing of fluidity and realism. The colors used in Akira’s cels are also bright and highly varied. The intricate cels and vibrant colors make Akira’s numerous battle and protest scenes, as well as Tetsuo’s mutations, even more frantic, violent, and realistic. High-speed chase scenes that follow the gang’s motorcycles feel incredibly fluid. Overhead shots and fly-bys of Neo-Tokyo also benefit from the high-end animation: viewers get a real sense of the city’s expansiveness (both vertical and horizontal) and complexity. Also noteworthy in Akira is the detail put into the facial speech animations, making it seem as though the animated characters are truly pronouncing and meaning the words they speak. Even by today’s standards, Akira is still visually impressive.
Looking past all of the visually pleasing action and destruction, viewers may find that Akira’s subtext addresses numerous issues facing late twentieth-century Japanese society. Indeed, themes of decay such as consumerism, social unrest, corruption, and juvenile delinquency, as well as themes of destruction such as memories of the World War II nuclear bombings are present throughout the movie. Perhaps most noteworthy is the theme of nuclear destruction and re-growth as it relates to Japan’s post-World-War-II experience. In the wake of the conventional and nuclear Allied bombings during World War II, Tokyo and much of the rest of Japan lay in ruins. From the ashes, Japan was able to rebuild itself once more into a thriving economy and society. In a similar fashion, Akira’s Neo-Tokyo had been built from the ashes of the nuclear explosion experienced during a fictional World War III. From the outset of the movie, it is apparent that Neo-Tokyo is again approaching the end of another destruction/reconstruction cycle: it is unstable, corrupt, filthy, and decaying from within. Viewers are presented with numerous scenes that signal the impending collapse: rioters take to the streets and are confronted by armed and brutal police, explosions are set off by terrorist groups, and corruption and ineptitude are evident in meetings held by the city’s government. The city’s young, too, have become delinquent, as exemplified by Kaneda’s bike gang and their revelry in violence and vandalism. To make clear the severity of the decay, one of the child-mutants in the laboratory, #25, Kiyoko, delivers an ominous prophecy in the first third of the movie: “The city will crumble”. Conveyed by Akira’s theme of destruction and reconstruction is a fear, and possibly a warning, that Japan will never escape this cyclic process of death/birth/re-growth that started in World War II; Japan will eternally fall prey to excess, greed, corruption, only to annihilate itself, reconstruct, and start the process anew.
Akira is not only a spectacular piece of animation, but also a much deeper look into concerns facing Japanese society. The storyline weaves the viewer through the decay occurring within the city of Neo-Tokyo – rampant consumerism, juvenile delinquency, civil unrest, and corruption – while also bringing attention to post-war fears of further nuclear destruction and rebirth. Akira’s influence outside of Japan has been far-reaching, and has been included in Michael Jackson’s music video, Scream, as well as Kanye West’s music video, Stronger. The movie has numerous scenes of violence that involve animations of blood and gore, and profanities are used often. Akira is truly a must see for fans of animation, anime or for those interested in Japanese culture.

Categories
anime science-fiction

Oshii Mamoru’s “Ghost in the Shell”

Otherwise known in its native Japanese as Kōkaku Kidotai, Ghost in the Shell is a critically acclaimed, stylistically significant, and intellectually profound animated masterpiece that goes above and beyond the typical thematic and stylistic constraints traditionally placed on animated formats.  Directed by the esteemed Oshii Mamoru and based on Shirow Masamune’s comic-book conceptions, this film was released in November, 1995.  This film is applauded by critics as one of the first animated works to reach a high level of literary and visual excellence.  Firmly entrenched in a dark cyberpunk science fiction genre populated by other outstanding works such as Blade Runner, The Matrix, and Neuromancer, Ghost in the Shell – like its progenitors and associates – enlists the assistance of a deep philosophical reexamination of deeply held perceptions of reality and existence.  What is it that makes oneself real?  How far can one stretch the definition of life-forms with regards towards a society fast embracing the existence of increasingly intelligent artificial intelligences?  Ghost in the Shell embraces these questions and never provides any real answers; the answers, this film holds, are deeply convoluted and complex – problems that become exponentially more complex the more technologically invested a given society becomes.  Indeed, this film pulls itself into the ranks of previously mentioned greats such as the aforementioned Blade Runner due to a focus not just on the exultation of a certain dystopian future, but rather, the implications of such a future: a future more likely with each passing day and technological development.

Ghost in the Shell presents itself as a science-fiction exposition from the onset through an opening sequence that lays down the groundwork for the legal (or rather, extralegal) status and authority of “Section 9”, a 2029 AD amalgamation of Special Forces and cybercrime professionals.  The movie opens through a cold-open sequence, elapsing four minutes, displaying the technological advancements a future society might possess, e.g. cyberbrain augmentations, thermo-optic camouflage, the cyborgization of the human body (in extreme cases, full-body cyborgization), and augmented reality systems.  In addition, this sequence fully demonstrates the extralegal capacity that “Section 9” possesses, and indeed, executes with the utmost precision and efficiency.  What follows is a sequence illustrating the formative and industrial capacity of this future world, creating something as complex as Kusanagi Motoko’s (the female Section 9 agent) cyborg body with apparent ease.

What follows is a plot centered on the political intrigue of governmental agencies and industrial espionage, and the unforeseen implications of technology that practitioners do not truly understand.  Tied initially to a case in which a “Puppet Master” is found to be “ghost-hacking” civilians and governmental officials to carry out terrorist acts, Section 9 finds themselves being drawn increasingly into a conflict where they deal with both this insurgent and a rogue “Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA),” who on parallel missions are trying desperately to contain this malevolent force.  This set of events leads to the suspected presence, or as Section 9 later finds out, the manifestation of a “ghost,” i.e. a term equivalent to that of a human soul in common vernacular.  As the film elaborates, this “ghost” is no mere artificial intelligence, but rather, the birthing of a self-aware entity born not out of intended invention, but rather spontaneous development.  The film climaxes with Section 6 orchestrating the abduction of the newly acquired “Puppet Master,” henceforth known as “Project 2501,” as he calls himself: a product of the “sea of information” existing in the vast interconnected networks of the future; a spontaneous creation akin to that of the prehistoric Cambrian explosion.  Compelled to preserve his existence and such qualitatively human compellations such as the desire to reproduce, he orchestrated the terrorist events that set in motion the timeline of this film.  Ghost in the Shell culminates in the destruction of “Project 2501” and Motoko’s cyborg body by MFA forces; the concluding scene has Motoko (in a replacement body) looking out over a brightly lit cityscape.

This film deals with a number of complex thematic concepts.  In a world where cyborgization is not only commonplace, but as omnipresent as the cell phones of today, what are the implications of this constant attachment to a collective network?  With the direct implantation and accessibility of such a sea of information, firewalls and layers of protection against intrusion thus become mandatory and indeed, essential towards the preservation of one’s “ghost”.  Otherwise, as shown through the poor garbage-man and incapacitated government official, one becomes vulnerable to malicious attack and “ghost-hacks”: future versions of Trojan viruses and remote-hijacking of the computer systems of today.  In addition, as shown by the garbage-man, being hacked and implanted with false memories challenges the boundaries of reality.  How does one react to an amalgamation of irreversible brainwashing and direct memory manipulation?  If such an event is possible, how would a citizen in the Ghost in the Shell universe know if reality is truth or fiction?  In addition, Ghost in the Shell impels the audience to ask themselves what it is that makes us human.  If Project 2501 was able to declare itself a sentient life-form capable of political asylum, would this ghost-endowed synthetic being be considered more human than someone like Motoko (whose synthetic bodily parts far outnumber the few remaining organic components of her body)?  It is interesting to note that when Section 6 first discovers sentience in Project 2501’s programming, it is regarded as a mere bug, which in retrospect, is a colossal display of both human arrogance and narrow-mindedness.  It is through the investigation of these concepts against a cyberpunk backdrop that Oshii Mamoru and Masamune Shirow take the concepts of artificial intelligence to a new high – beyond the tremblings of sentience present in 2001: A Space Odyssey – in a contextual format that current audiences can understand and appreciate.

Ghost in the Shell, however, is not a film for the uninitiated.  The overly complex dialogue and casual usage of futuristic terms places potential viewers (without prior knowledge of Shirow Masamune’s works) at a definite disadvantage towards the proper comprehension of his stylistic and technological constructs.  However, for those willing to invest the effort into understanding the intricacies of a dystopian (and yet, realistic) cyberpunk world, Ghost in the Shell offers itself as a thematically deep film wrought throughout with philosophical issues on reality and its cohorts, existence and the soul.

Categories
anime

Princess Mononoke

Mononoke-Hime (Princess Mononoke) is an animated fantasy film directed by Miyazaki Hayao of Studio Ghibli in 1997. The story is based on a prince named Ashitaka, who is wounded with a deadly curse while trying to fight off the giant boar demon that was destroying his village. Another important character in the film is San, also known as “Wolf Girl”. She is called “Wolf Girl” because she was raised by the three giant wolves that try to protect the forest from the humans who want to destroy the forest to make charcoal to melt iron. The film may be seem as simply an animated love story between Ashitaka and San for children, but the film is mainly about environmental problems that the people are facing in the world and the troubles it brings.

Prince Ashitaka goes on a journey to the lands of the west in order to find a cure for the deadly curse that was bestowed upon him by the giant boar demon. While his journey, he stops at a village where he meets Jigo, a wandering monk who tells him that the god of the west forest may be able to help him. So Ashitaka stops at a town called Iron Town, which is near the west forest, where he is warmly welcomed by the leader, Lady Eboshi. One night, San comes into the Iron Town in an attempt to kill Lady Eboshi since the people in her town are destroying the forest that San lives in with her wolf family. Ashitaka comes between the two to try and stop the fight by using the special powers that he got from the curse. While carrying San out of the town, Ashitaka is shot. Due to the supernatural powers from the curse, he is able to carry San through the gates, but right after he passes the gates, he loses consciousness. He is then taken to the Forest Spirit, which is said to be able to cure anything. The Forest Spirit heals his gunshot wound but does not get rid of his curse. When Ashitaka wakes up, he works together with San to save the forest from the humans and the boars which have gone crazy.

The animated film is generally known as a metaphor for environmental disaster caused by industrialization. Due to the weapons created by industrialization like guns, destruction is created. For example, the giant boar that casts the curse on Ashitaka turned evil and went crazy because it was wounded with a bullet. If it were not for the bullet, Ashitaka would not have been cursed and his village would not have been attacked. Also, the rapid destruction of the forest is what made the boar god Okkoto angry to the point where he decided to gather up all the boars to attack the humans. Apart from the metaphor for environmental destruction, Princess Mononoke also portrays what greed can do to people. The Forest God is said to give immortality, so everyone tries to get hold of that power. In the film, Jigo is so caught up in the reward that the emperor said he would give him for the Forest God’s head that he keeps it in the box when he knows that he will die if he does not give the head back to the Forest God.

Princess Mononoke may at first seem like a film for children, but it has a deeper meaning to it. It has metaphors for environmental destruction and the harmful disasters that can occur from it. It also gives the idea that if something is not done immediately about the environmental problems, it will cause serious problems. The film also gives out the image that people can co-exist with nature as long as they do not take advantage of the natural resources that nature provides the people with. The movie does not consist of any disturbing scenes except for when people get shot. The way Miyazaki Hayao uses color in the animated film is very beautiful so it does not get tiring and simply watching the different scenes may be enjoyable. Not only the scenery, but the romance between Ashitaka and San is also something to watch.

Categories
anime drama, melodrama science-fiction

Philosophy, Memory and Technology: A review of Oshii Mamoru‘s “Ghost in the Shell”

Ghost in the Shell (Kôkaku Kidôtai), an anime film directed by Oshii Mamoru and released in Japan in 1995, is an exploration of technology, information and the human soul. Based on a manga written by Masamune Shirow, the film envisions a future where technology and biology are blended seamlessly, and consciousness is spread out in a vast network of information. Within this world lives Major Mokoto Kusanagi,  a cyber-cop who is given the task of stopping criminals from hacking into the “ghosts” of government officials. The Japanese version of the film features the voices of Tanuko Atsuko as the Major and Ôtsuka Akio as her second-in-command Batô; it was also released dubbed in English, featuring the voices of Mimi Woods and Richard Epcar. Ghost in the Shell was intended to be viewed by a large international audience with a broad, theatrical release (Ebert 1996), but its complexity, sexuality, and exploration of difficult philosophical issues make it a cult film rather than a mainstream blockbuster.

Ghost in the Shell depicts a dystopic future where the integration of biology and technology has eliminated the security of thought. Criminals are able to “hack” the human mind, and implant false memories, thereby controlling the victim’s motivation and will. The Major and Batô are in pursuit of a mastermind hacker called the Puppet Master, who is threatening diplomatic relations with other sectors as well as stealing information by hacking into the minds of government officials. As the Major hunts the Puppet Master, she begins to question her own nature: she is a cyborg officer, mainly composed of mechanical parts with only a few organic cells to identify her as human. In a world where memories are subject to exchange and corruption like so many data files, what is the difference between human and machine? As they uncover the mystery of the Puppet Master, they discover that he was never human: rather, he is a lifeform born within the sea of information. He’s come to find the Major, and what he wants from her will blur the lines between memory and technology beyond what she’s ever imagined.

For a film with such a dynamic plot, there is a conspicuous lack of movement. Static shots of the cityscape last for several moments: the “camera” remains stationary and often the only motion within the shot is the rain softly falling. Characters, too, are frequently motionless: their bodies and heads remain stationary as they deliver their lines, often in extended monologues lasting for several minutes. The stillness adds a certain weight to the subject matter, and time for the viewer to consider what’s being said onscreen. This time is essential for comprehending the film: every line delivers a philosophical punch, and Ghost in the Shell provides much food for thought.

The animation of Ghost in the Shell is spectacular, and the sprawling cityscape represents the decline of life through the rise of technology. The monolithic grey towers that form the skyline of Section 9, where the film takes place, symbolize the domination of technology. There is no evidence of greenery, and the only reminder of life is the occasional emaciated dog roaming the shadowy streets. People, cowering under umbrellas, are dwarfed by the landscape that surrounds them. The stillness of the film emphasizes this dominance of technology: the city seems ghostly, empty of life. The soundtrack gives weight to this feeling, and its wailing and mournful sounds seem to echo through the empty, rain-drenched streets. The final shot in the film reinforces the connection between landscape and technology: a bird’s-eye view of the city reveals its shape to be reminiscent of the circuitboards of a computer.

Ghost in the Shell is a complex and fascinating film, one that I thoroughly recommend watching. The animation is astounding, and it’s worth watching the film for the visuals alone; however, it’s the philosophical questions and the provocative ways in which the film answers that are the most interesting aspects of the film. The philosophy is heavy-handed at times: the film makes no effort to hide its deeper questions in theme and symbolism, choosing instead to have the characters explore them in depth through dialogue. I watched both the English and the Japanese version of the film, and I recommend the latter: although the English version makes it easier to fully appreciate the visuals if you don’t speak Japanese, the voices and dialogue in the Japanese version are far superior, and the expression of philosophical concepts is far more natural. Ghost in the Shell is decidedly an adult film, containing an extensive amount of nudity and violence (it is a film about a dystopic future, after all), but the adult content is not gratuitous. The film explores the concept of body and how it relates to both technology and the soul, and thus the attention paid to the Major’s nearly constantly naked form is symbolically significant as well as visually appealing. If you haven’t seen Ghost in the Shell, watch it: it’ll give you something to think about long after the credits stop rolling.

Works Cited

Ebert, Roger. “Ghost in the Shell.” Chicago Sun-Times. 12 April 1996. Web. 1 Nov 2010.

Categories
anime science-fiction

“Paprika”’s Distorted World of Reality and Fear

Directed by the late Kon Satoshi, Paprika (2006) is an animated science fiction film adaptation ofYasutaka Tsutsui’s 1993 novel. The film is highly renowned for its stunning artwork and animation. Moreover, Paprika often leaves the audience stunned by its incredibly complex yet remarkable storyline. While the film takes the viewer through a whirlwind of dreams and nightmares, Satoshi highlights the characters’ fear of technology taking over Japanese society. This becomes a serious theme throughout the film as Doctor Atsuko Chiba (voiced by Hayashibara Megumi) continues to dive deeper into people’s nightmares and discover the ultimate truth dream by dream. Another aspect to consider is Satoshi’s use of visuals to create hyperrealities of the characters’ dreams and their real world. At one point, dreams and reality merge, in which it becomes difficult to determine whether Chiba is in someone’s dream or not. Therefore, the visuals juxtapose dreams and reality to effectively illustrate, in detail, their similarities. As such, the theme and visuals tie the film together as a whole, while at the same time, they leave open-ended and debatable scenarios which then ultimately beg the question, “is this all just a dream?”

Paprika is set in the future where a device called ‘DC Mini’ is invented for dream therapy. This new psychotherapy treatment utilizes the DC Mini to view people’s dreams, allowing its users to explore unconscious thoughts of their patients and dreamers. Chiba leads this treatment and uses this device illegally to help psychiatric patients, which is not permitted in the research facilities. To conceal her identity, Chiba uses her alter ego, Paprika, to delve into and examine the patients’ dream world. Hence, the film opens with Paprika (a.k.a Chiba) counselling Detective Konakawa Toshimi, who is vexed by a recurring dream. The incompleteness of his dreams deeply troubles him and deters him from following his passion for film. Chiba’s method of counseling is heavily disapproved by the Chairman (Emori Tōru) despite Doctor Kosaku Tokita’s (Furuya Tōru) optimistic intentions, the child-at-heart genius and creator of the DC Mini. Before the government can pass an authorization of the use of the DC Mini, three of its models are stolen. Because those prototypes are not complete, they allow anyone to enter another person’s dreams and create an opportunity for the user to perform malicious deeds without getting caught. Chiba/Paprika and Doctor Torataro Shima (Hori Katsunosuke) take this matter into their own hands after two doctors (Tokita and Himuro, who is, at first, suspected as the thief) become victims of the DC Mini. It is up to Paprika to find the roots of the perpetrator responsible for controlling the dreams and why he merges dreams and reality together. Thus, the viewers follow both Chiba and Paprika into a whirlwind of unconscious thoughts and self-reflexive fears, whether they are in dreams or reality or in both. Eventually, Chiba and Konakawa confront and realize their true emotions in order to save their city from mass destruction.

An important subject matter to explore in Paprika is the sense of fear and frustration on the rapid technological advancements in Japanese society. “Implanting dreams into other people’s heads is terrorism,” exclaims Chairman Emori at the beginning of the film. He clearly expresses his disapproval of the DC Mini and aims to be the “predator of the dreamworld” by protecting dreams from being polluted by technology. Ironically, he contradicts himself and ends up using the DC Mini to maliciously control people’s dreams, as exemplified by his monstrous figure and sinister vision of omnipotence. At one point in the film, the Chairman transforms himself into an incredibly large and dark monster-like creature. He also begins to destroy and darken the city with his delusional dreams. This scene in particular is reminiscent of Gojira’s attack of the city in Ishirō Honda’s Gojira (1954). Similarly to Gojira, the city is darkened by smokes with a monster of terror hovering over and destroying buildings. The Chairman’s monstrous transformation is solely from his obsessive and aggressive nature over maintaining purity in people’s dreams, as is Gojira’s transformation from the testings of nuclear weapons. Because of his twisted motives, the Chairman slowly eliminates people’s identities and their mental capacities, and soon enough, their lives. Clearly, the DC Mini is controlled by the wrong hands of a malevolent user. Ultimately, the Chairman epitomizes the inhumane horrors of technology by allowing it to be the source of evil.

Perhaps what truly throws both the characters and viewers off is the incredible visuals making it difficult to determine which state (dream or reality) they’re in. Unlike some films, Satoshi does not add special effects or any indications whenever Chiba has entered someone’s dream or not. Rather, he closely juxtaposes dreams and reality to challenge various characters to search for their own personal truths, be it their hidden emotions or self-realization. This makes it hard to understand when to know whether or not one is in a dream or in the real world. Consequently, Konakawa and Chiba travel through a series of dreams to discover what they are hiding or running away from in reality. Konakawa continues to revisit his movie-like dreams to make sense of the final scene, where he finds himself chasing after someone and could not shoot the escaping stranger. His hesitance prevents him from understanding why his personal anxiety affects his hatred for movies. When he realizes he needs to overcome his guilt for breaking a promise to a close friend, he finally finishes his dream by shooting Doctor Morio Osenai (Koichi Yamadera), the Chairman’s minion, indicating that he has taken control of his dream[1]. As a result, Konakawa’s confrontation to himself and discovery of his friend’s true intentions prevent his dreams from recurring again. Chiba, on the other hand, uses her alter ego to suppress her romantic emotions towards Tokita. As she continues to jump from one dream to another dream to her real world, her frantic search for Tokita allows her to realize that she has feelings for him – as herself, not Paprika. Because dreams and reality have merged, Paprika becomes a separate entity from Chiba, who then, later on, reconciles herself through Paprika after discovering her feelings for Tokita. This is illustrated when Chiba watches her own subconscious thoughts replaying an earlier scene in the film when she helps Tokita out of the elevator. In the ghostly apparition, she recognizes his cues, changes her reactions and response, and holds him tenderly. For both Konokawa and Chiba’s cases, it is when reality and dreams merge that they recognize the underlying truth in order for them to stay true to themselves. Thus, the film’s visuals and its challenging structure act as a self-reflexive tool to explore and understand the similarities between dreams and reality, but also one’s consciousness and subconsciousness.

Paprika is known for its stunning animation and ability to challenge the audience’s expectations. It is often compared to Christopher Nolan’s most recent film, Inception (2010) because of their similar ideas. However, Paprika is a very different film when it comes to questioning the idea of dreams and the characters’ reality. Paprika’s intellectual curiosity leaves the audience at the edge of their seat, craving for more explanations and a longer storyline. One must be aware of nudity and its extreme graphic details during the film. Watch Paprika and be prepared for a twisted roller coaster ride through a series of beautiful and unusual dreams.

[1] Doctor Morio Osenai also dies in reality to indicate that dreams and reality have completed merged.

Categories
anime anti-war drama, melodrama

No Better Approach than the Anime: “Grave of the Fireflies” and Emotional Representation

Takahata Isao’s Grave of the Fireflies (Hotaru no haka, 1988) is an anime film which tells the tragic story of a young pre-teen boy and his younger sister who struggle to survive during the final years of WWII in Kobe, Japan. For an animated film, Grave of the Fireflies deals with an extremely sensitive and realistic topic. Though this may be common to the Japanese anime tradition, where serious topics are often depicted in animated form, I think those who have a more westernized view of animated films will be surprised at the emotional intensity in Takahata’s Grave of the Fireflies. Instead of taking away from or making light of such important issues like, the Kobe air raids, the animation does the opposite. There is a way in which the anime is able to distance the viewer in order to reach an emotional truth or universality that live-action films cannot replicate. Therefore, as an anime film, Grave of the Fireflies is able to handle the sensitive/traumatic subject of war trauma or victimization, to great effect.

The film begins with a shot on an adolescent boy named Seita. He is basked in red light and his voiceover says, “September 21, 1945…that was the night I died.” A tin can is found by his lifeless body and is tossed away. A small white bone falls out and the spirit of Seita’s little sister, Setsuko appears. She looks around puzzled but is soon joined by the spirit of her brother. The siblings happily rejoice and share candy fruit drops from the tin can as they ride the train. The film is then told in flashback and cuts to Seita, Setsuko and their mother preparing to evacuate their home, because of an oncoming air raid. The film follows the siblings as they struggle to find food and shelter after their home and city is destroyed by the bombings.

From the first scene, the spectator instantly knows the film deals with death, tragedy and real historical events. Yet the film is able to avoid feeling too dramatized or overwhelming by the sheer fact that it is in animation. Animation is associated with children, exaggeration and elaborated stories. Because of this familiar connotation, dramatization or unrealistic portrayals can be expected in the anime genre. For instance, in the opening scene, the red luminous lighting which represents a sort of afterlife, evokes a haunting atmosphere, but it is oversaturated and stylized. As well, and most obvious, are the drawings of the characters. Seiki and Setsuko are in no way realistically drawn. They have exaggerated features. As a result, even though the film presents overwhelming amounts of tragedy and events, that are very realistic, the audience can better accept or invest in these emotions because the characters are not “real” people and they live in this animated world that is distant from our own. In Susan J. Napier’s article, she mentions that the “animation’s simplified representation allow[s] for easier identification on the part of the viewer” (167). Even though the story is based on writer Nosaka Akiyuki’s real life, the characters in the story are not based on or look like real life people. Seiki and Setsuko have such basic features that they can basically represent any Japanese child. It gives the film a universal quality, where people can easily identify with the siblings rather than trying to connect with a personalized account.

Napier also points out how the “graphics of manga or anime can help “convey the unconveyable” of the bomb’s horror (166). This comes back to the idea of genre expectations and the viewer already accepting the limitedness or exaggerated nature of the animated world. When Seiki and Setsuko observe the landscape of Kobe and see how everything is destroyed, the viewer does not question this visual representation. It’s not that animation is better at accurately capturing the truth but it’s that we are less inclined to critique it. It’s difficult to say that an anime film is dramatizing, or is unrealistically representing something, because animation is not a form that traditionally tries to be realistic. For example, when Seiki sees his mother completely wrapped up in bandages and bleeding from underneath, the image is very exaggerated. However, the audience does not roll their eyes at this dramatic image because it does not seem dramatized within an anime context. The viewer can then remain focused on the emotions of the scenes without being fazed by the overstated image. Another way in which anime works better in conveying the horrors of war is that it’s simply easier to draw the destroyed landscape or injured civilians, than to do it with real sets and actors. Even with CGI and advanced technology, the live-action film then risks being too contrived through its highly artificial approach in representing such sensitive and serious subjects. Special effects with computers or rigs, then becomes more unrealistic or in “bad taste,” as Napier would say, than the usage of manga or anime.

Takahata’s Grave of the Fireflies is certainly one of the saddest films I have ever seen. The fact that it is in animation does not cross your mind since you become so invested in the lives of these two children. However, after watching the film you begin to realize that the reason you were able to get so invested in the pure emotion of the story, is that the animation is able to distance the viewer enough so they don’t get distracted by issues of inaccurate or unrealistic representation.

Works Cited

Napier, Susan J. Anime from Akira to Princess Mononoke: Experiencing Contemporary Japanese Animation. New York: Palgrave, 2001. Web. 29 Oct. 2010.

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