Hige vs. Otaku

Evangelion is now, seemingly, a Tsurumaki vehicle. Or at least, a 21st Century GAINAX show rather than one of the 90s where Evangelion stood as the superlative example.

In principle this would be a good thing. Tsurumaki gave us FLCL and did a good, if very idiosyncratic job on Diebuster (aka Gunbuster 2). He’s becoming a sort of go-to guy when it comes to applying a modern spin on old GAINAX properties. He has enough personality to make them fresh and with a show like Eva, that even the tamest of anime fans have probably seen at least four times, this is important. Yet, Eva 2.0 felt very confused. Or as an old fan I did. Perhaps Diebuster is a good starting point to understand just where this second film is coming from because watching Eva 2.0 is how I imagine diehard fans of the original Gunbuster felt after seeing Diebuster. It’s very much a what is this I don’t even sensation peppered with cautious interest because of the sheer energy and verve witnessed onscreen.

So this is an Evangelion experience paired down to constituent parts, but not necessarily the constituent parts you’d expect. Very little of the psychology is given president. Nor, to my own chagrin, is much of the basic characterisation. Humour and action take much more of a central role with Eva 2.0 than invasive psychological analysis or weighty character development, and because of the breakneck pacing very little time is allowed to build the characters before Things Go Wrong, thus neutering the Serious Drama. If it held true to the humour and action and somehow geared the plot to avoid the harrowing moments that were so dependent on the drier, more staid elements then it might feel more successful. But no, it harkens back to those traumatic scenes with none of the buildup that made them so affective in the original.

The plot itself deviates mainly in how familiar events are ordered, and the introduction of Mari causes a slight disruption to expectations (though it’s no where near the level the hype/excitement suggests). As predictably fanboyish as this sounds, she probably embodies the film’s biggest failing. Not because she’s a bad character in and of herself, but because she’s a very thin GAINAX archetype in a show than sealed its reputation on completely exploding thin anime archetypes. I’m reserving judgment on the whole because Mari’s barely present here and when she is it’s all very enigmatic, but she didn’t offer much in the way of the vitality that many were expecting. I’m hoping the potential anarchy she could bring will get more attention in the third film, and judging by how Eva originally behaved with its characters, it’s penchant for dramatic u-turns, that’s a sensible approach to take. Like the character herself, the hint of disruption is there, lurking in the background jumping out in rather incongruous moments, but feels unimportant and superfluous at this stage. I’m sure GAINAX’s merchandising division would beg to differ but from a narrative standpoint I struggled to see the point of her inclusion. Time will tell.

One thing that feels genuinely contradictory to the ethos of these films – making them accessible to everyone etc. – is that I can’t imagine anyone getting this without having seen the original series. It feels lazy to say that but this film really is quite a shambles without extensive knowledge of the characters. The plot can do whatever it wants, and it certainly does with us reaching the Third Impact by the end of the film, but the genuine worth of Evangelion for me, the rise and fall of its characters, the disturbing, joyous, endearing insight into their minds, is very sparse and messy here. There are lots of illusions to character backstory – Asuka, for instance has a hand puppet baring eerie similarity to her mother’s, and Misato gets a shitey montage depicting her survival of the Second Impact – but it’s all so toothlessly underdeveloped. There’s not enough time to take stock on how these artifacts and memories created the people we see in front of us and it makes for a very bewildering experience.

So, get ready to dust off the zimmerframe and stamp it up and down in a rage because it’s time for the choleric fanboy conclusion. Studio Khara (GAINAX Veteran Retirement Village) have seemingly done the opposite of what they to set out to do here. Rather than give fans and new folk alike the distilled Evangelion experience, something everyone finds accessible and entertaining, they’ve given us something very fun and brisk that’s still mired in all the convoluted rubbish of the original series without its running time to give even the vaguest entry point for comprehension. I was lucky to see this film in a cinema – not so much because of the audio-visual experience, which is lovely, but because of the audience reaction. All the moments where we may’ve winced or sat in quiet dismay in the past are a truncated parody of themselves, deserving of the mock laughter they received. It’s a fantastic film in many superficial ways but very odd when considered in terms of what made Eva special. If there was one positive thing I took away from watching Eva 2.0, though, it’s that the subsequent films are guaranteed to be absolutely demented. By the way things are progressing (that being into batshit insanity) it feels like these films are very much Eva curios rather than a definitive experience. This isn’t a bad thing at all, just . . . tricky to consider.

Owen, ever the Machiavellian puppet-master of the anime blogging community, has kicked off another ramshackle community event by asking a number of bloggers to watch (or indeed rewatch) Darker than Black and then talk about it. The method? Two episodes a day for thirteen days and write about it however you see fit. The intention? To watch the series as it was intended – as two episode story arcs rather than singular episodes, thus preserving the pacing and getting the most out of what is actually quite a sophisticated show. It’s also been two years since it originally aired, during one of the best anime seasons in recent memory, so it’s half-experiment, half-celebration. Kind of puts all the recent dross we’ve had to contend with in startling perspective, eh?

The way I’m contributing is by adding a chunk of text onto Owen’s episodic blogs. I’d originally intended to provide wee quotes, alternative angles on points made by Owen, but they’re basically just mini-blog entries tacked onto the end of his posts. My role in this event is much like Owen’s; we’re documenting how our attitudes have changed in two years as well as noting how rewatching an anime (particularly a BONES anime, I’ve found) can shed all sorts of new light on what it’s trying to do and say. Owen and myself had very different opinions on DtB when it first ran – I loved parts of it but had serious issue with the tangential storylines whereas Owen was a frenzied mess of fanboyism, near incapable of writing a coherent blog because the urge to fap gave him the tremors. We’re older now, and we’re watching the show in a much more reasonable way. You can read our ruminations over at Cruel Angel Theses (we’re currently up to episodes 3 – 4) and we’re running on a daily schedule. It’s worth it just to witness me blog in a frequent and consistent fashion. Quite the phenomenon.

While we’re on the subject of watching and rewatching, I recently sat down with Mamoru Oshii’s latest animated feature The Sky Crawlers, which was not the philosophical clusterfuck I was expecting. In fact, it was an incredibly ambient experience up to the two-thirds mark. Everything explodes somewhat after that point – we get characterisation, plot development, intrigue, excitement – but the nothing that comes before it has a very strange charm. That alienating Oshii vibe is bubbling beneath the surface but it’s nowhere as acute as with his previous films. I think the constant blue skies and lush scenery gave it a serene feeling that stands out against his usual decaying cyberpunk aesthetics, and it works in a difficult-to-grab-hold-of sort of way. It turns out to be a Lain-styled non-reality where everything is fixed to continue on an infinite loop, which is where the textbook Oshii headfuck comes in, but superficially it’s not as unnerving as his usual output.

This infinite loop is what draws Sky Crawlers into the ‘watch and rewatch’ theme of this post. After the credits finish rolling there’s another scene that plays out almost identically to the start of the film; to the point where I thought the video had looped over and started again. Then the Production I.G. logo popped up and I was left with a very upsetting thought. All of these characters were expendable. The deceased would be replaced with exact copies of their prior selves only with none of the memories. Those who survived had to live on and suffer with their memories and experiences with the prior incarnation as the new one stands before them completely ignorant. The cycle continues on and during the film we merely witness one of these repetitions. After realising this I wanted to rewatch the film immediately. I wanted to see it again with this vital bit of understanding so I could appreciate the eerie feeling that had previously confused me and finally grasp the behaviour of some of the cast. The Sky Crawlers is really a film that has to be watched twice in a row to understand as a whole. It’s a very perplexing but very exciting experience.

Tokyo Sonata is about a modern Japanese family that’s falling apart. Sasaki, the father and patriarch, is made redundant at the beginning of the film and spends much of it hiding his unemployment to his dutiful wife, Megumi. She presents an image of domestic perfection going about her duties as a mother and wife with a diligent grace, unquestioning of the authority her husband exerts over the household. Her resolution in this role is shaken, however, as the family she works so hard to maintain rapidly begins to unravel.

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I remember reading an interview with Hideki Anno in an early volume of the Evangelion manga a year or so after I’d seen the anime. In it he made the simple statement that Misato is the second protagonist of the show, and my hardcore fandom has yet to feel so vindicated. I sat there nodding like a fool, feeling smugly superior to all the Rei and Asuka fanboys who infuriated me online with their ignorance of Misato’s towering significance. At least the creator wasn’t completely preoccupied with a glorified sex puppet or some mouthy ginger bitch; at least Anno knew exactly who mattered in his show.

My love for Misato knows no bounds. She is completely fundamental to my Evangelion fanaticism. Rebuild: 01 loves her, too, and every new or improved scene acknowledges how essential she is to the show’s success. Her friendship with Risuko; her awkwardly maternal connection to Shinji; her fierce sense of duty. They’re all accounted for and accentuated in fantastically moving ways.

Specifically, there’s one scene that really hit me hard. Shinji, having almost died in a previous battle, is apprehensive to fight again. Misato, knowing there’s no other choice, takes Shinji to Central Dogma to see the crucified Lilith and explain his worth and that, most importantly, he is not alone. The camera frequently cuts away to the pair holding hands throughout their descent and in this final scene of encouragement it cuts away again to Misato’s hand tightening around Shinji’s after he accepts to fight ‘one more time’. His hand seems limp under her conviction yet he slowly reciprocates and the camera lingers on their hands firmly in one another’s grasp. The impact of this scene, its structure, the dignity and compassion it depicts, had me in tears.

Scenes like these validate Rebuild’s existence for me. It feels like Anno has taken all the brutally candid Misato-Shinji moments of End of Evangelion and transplanted their sensibility into these earlier events. It’s phenomenally successful and enough for me to ignore the overt cynicism Rebuild inspires as a concept. Everything else is adequate in its reproduction – this first film does little to rock the boat – but these minor bits of refinement make all the difference. If Hideki and chums can keep up their promise of ‘less wankery, more humanity’ and keep doing it like this then I will be satisfied.

I’d be a fool liar if I denied the simple pleasure I get from seeing everything so lushly animated. FLCL and Toki wo Kakeru Shoujo demonstrated that it verges on a hate crime not to animate Yoshiyuki Sadamoto’s character design to the highest possible standard, and Rebuild: 01 joins their ranks comfortably. Plus, the promise of original content in the next film does actually excite me. It suggests Anno has new things to say in his world and I’m inclined to listen when the man speaks. Whether this makes me a complete tool or not is unimportant. Kaworu is coming from the moon in a new Evangelion unit for Christ’s sake. The goddamn moon.

"Tony Takitani (played by the great stage actor Issey Ogata, last seen on film in Edward Yang’s A One and a Two) is a commercial illustrator, specialising in mechanical drawings. An only child, half-estranged from his father, he isn’t conscious of his own loneliness until it’s unexpectedly filled by a wife, Eiko (Rie Miyazawa). Life hovers on the brink of fulfilment – except that Eiko buys an alarming number of clothes. And when she dies in a road accident, Tony Takitani is left with a roomful of near-new designer outfits…" – lff.org.uk

Haruki Murakami offers some of the most compelling, addictive modern fiction available today. Quite apart from his Japanese nationality, and our love for such activity, the man is just a brilliant author.  Norwegian Wood acted as my entry-point; Dance Dance Dance became an all time favourite; The Wind-up Bird Chronicle presented a challenge only matched by Ulysses. Throw in his newest, Kafka on the Shore (which is beneath a whole buggerload of school reading, sadly) and many other short stories and novels and you have a robust and consistent set of excellent literature.

With Tony Takitani we get a very concentrated, brief visual representation of what Murakami is about. The underlying sense of melancholy and loneliness – both of which the protagonist is unaware of until another party changes their outlook – are present in spades and embodied beautifully. This is a very sad film. It doesn’t take any cheap shots or pander to the audience. It has no sex, violence or swearing but it still holds a great deal of emotional weight and maturity.

The narrative voice (detached from any of the characters, perhaps suggesting a Murakami-like figure) playfully interweaves with the dialogue and characters often finish off its sentences in ‘real time’. This demonstrates the film’s gentle sense of humour as well as giving a good nod to Murakami’s comedic style.

Cinematically the film is shot in quite a broad, set-piece manner, with each scene panning into the next with a single fluid movement. The sense of whimsy Murakami creates with his realistic settings is one of his signature points, and Tony Takitani captures this ethereal feel perfectly. The cast also acts brilliantly with restraint and subtly. I haven’t heard of any of the actors here, but after this film I’m going to make an effort to investigate their work.

Conclusion
Tony Takitani is a quiet film with a slow pace and not a lot of visceral satisfaction . . . but this is exactly why it’s so charming. Watching one scene drift dreamily to the next is compelling in a completely different way. It doesn’t grab your attention as much as lull it gently, and this is one of the better ways to explain how Murakami’s writing works. Strangely, Tony Takitani doesn’t immediately represent what I envisioned Murakami’s work to look like, but I’m at a loss to criticise it in that respect. A definite recommendation to those who enjoy subtly and beauty in their films, and Murakami fans will be more than satisfied. Lovely stuff.

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Director: Jun Ichikawa
Links: Official site, Rotten Tomatoes page, indiewire review