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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 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.

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