Hige vs. Otaku

It’s funny, so many of my animu blogging brethren (init) are getting exasperated about how much they love Eve no Jikan when, personally, I’m finding it nigh-impossible to express how much I’m enjoying Detroit Metal City. Like, for serious guys. I watch a few episodes and I’m gob-smacked. Completely dumbfounded. The best reaction I can muster is to plan how I’m going to introduce this tour de force of offensiveness to my filthy goth friends (of which I have numerous). The fact that I live in Glasgow makes DMC’s copious use of the c-word just all the more perfect. Although I’ve always sworn like a motherfucker the c-bomb has remained sacred and employed only when necessary. Until I came to Scotland, that is. Now I drop it so frequently in casual conversation that I actively worry about going home in case I let slip in front of my mother. Needless to say, this anime is practically handcrafted for the majority of my friends. Not since Honey & Clover have I ever felt this eager to show my generally anime-phobic chums something of the animated persuasion. Yes, not since Honey & Clover. How bizarre is that?

But there’s obviously more to DMC than the initial shock value of its foul language. I love its laconic exposé on the reality of these obnoxiously stylised acts. It takes the notion of ‘everyone has a mother’ and pushes it to hilariously cutting extremes. I also identify somewhat with the schism Negishi faces between his musical tastes and those he associates with. Most of my friends are the aforementioned goths who would legitimately enjoy DMC’s music. Obviously not so much the lyrics, of which they’d enjoy in the same self-mocking way I do, but the music isn’t too far removed from what I hear before a night out with my nearest and dearest. And yet I’m as indie as you can get without broaching Insufferable Wank territory. Negishi actually mentions Cornelius at one point and I sat there aghast, pointing at the screen in recognition. I’m not saying I’m all about Swedish pop music or anything – I do actually partake in metal diversions when something interesting comes along – but I can’t deny a slight twinge of identification with the boy. The animation style, too, is fantastic. I was initially a little unnerved by the heavy use of borders but Studio 4°C obviously have a vision in mind with the aesthetics and I’ve grown to love it. There’s also a certain superflat element to them that I really appreciate. So yeah, DMC is this year’s Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei. Only with more rape gags. So many more wonderful, wonderful rape gags.

I also managed to find a Michiko to Hatchin release that didn’t rape my computer in a horrible Krauser II-like fashion. I enjoyed the experience but can see the show becoming needlessly overrated by the community. It’s no Cowboy Bebop, that’s for sure. I got none of the sophisticated storytelling jollies from it as I did from Bebop, nor could I ignore how much it pandered to us, the white-ass crackers of the West. It seemed like a fairly tepid attempt to recreate that genre-striding filmic quality of Bebop though ultimately came off too contrived with none of the meaty substance. I agree with Bateszi that the torture suffered by Hana was very difficult to watch, thus successful in one sense, and I felt a bit of satisfaction when she broke free of it, but it could’ve been more acute, more gratifying. The concept of Michiko to Hatchin reminds me a lot of the manga Bambi and her Pink Gun, only with none of its fantastic anarchy. And seeing as it’s aimed at us, the violence-loving, gun-toting arseholes of the world, there seems to be an overt degree of restraint to it. If you’re going to be so obvious in who your target market is at least go completely nuts with it and show no restraint. Michiko to Hatchin is obviously a highly polished anime with a lot of financial weight behind it, so why not follow through with a punch that doesn’t feel so frustratingly pulled?

The news report of this act’s opening scene was a clever touch. It coupled the reported increase of youths’ addiction to androids, and their seeming inability to socialise with real people as a result, with Rikuo’s fumbling uncertainty with housemaid android Sammy. The way it demonstrated how the reality was completely opposed to the media perception was a smart bit of social criticism – made even better by its function within the show. Rikuo is not wrapped up in the fantasy of having a living, feeling android at his command; he’s realistically scared and confused by it. Rather than immediately accepting the potential humanity of Sammy, Nagi et al and setting off on some whimsically unreal adventure, he cautiously probes and investigates in a bid to genuinely understand. This reluctance is one of the main attractions of this show for me and it makes his gradual acceptance of the androids’ sentience all the more successful. The slight smile Sammy gives after Rikuo, we assume purposefully, compliments the coffee she worked so hard to improve genuinely broke my heart. Not in a sad way, but just in how it subtly communicated Rikuo’s acceptance of Sammy’s humanity. He came to realise that Sammy lied to him for wholly selfless reasons and his reward for her act of love was some simple words of appreciation. When was the last time anyone thanked something that was just a machine?

Another story element I liked about this episode was the brief but telling hint of Masaki’s past. His lofty disdain for androids had complimented Rikuo’s besieged confusion up to this point but it would’ve worn thin if he never developed beyond it. Luckily, it seems, Masaki is not just a bonehead supporting character to the protagonist. If anything this episode suggests he’s going to be as fleshed out as the other central cast members. The use of sound in the scene itself – a half-second flashback to a young Masaki sitting hunched in a darkened corridor outside a door – was fantastic. We went from the light hum of Nagi’s café to a deafening silence and I was amazed how something so slight as a drop in sound amplified the dramatic impact of the scene. Masaki’s brief chat with the man/android reading next to him again implied that Eve no Jikan is concerning itself as much with his journey as it is with Rikuo’s. It seems wrong to make predictions about a show as refined and in control as Eve, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the two boys forked off in two ideological directions towards the end of the run.

It’s hard to imagine Eve no Jikan not appealing to the whole spectrum of anime fandom. There’s cute moe girls, relatable shonen protagonists, robots. All tied up with intelligent direction, depth and technical prowess. It’s a show that writes its own hyperbole but then actually delivers on the evangelising, and it really feels like ‘new’ anime, too; in the same way Mononoke felt new. The use of CG in both series opened up a whole new method of storytelling and the results feel genuinely fresh. Plus, fifteen minutes of run-time per episode. What excuse is there not to be watching? Dae it. Dae it right now.

The patch will be out at the end of this week.

– MOTHER 3 Fan Translation

Glory be; I fear I may have just shit my pants.

Well, that’s a relief. Being a GAINAX devotee can be a sadomasochistic occupation at times. Short of a show having Yoshiyuki Sadamoto character designs and the golden touch of Anno and/or Tsurumaki, it’s very difficult for fans to be dead-cert on the ever-capricious studio’s output. Particularly if they’ve only just recently had a phenomenal success (remember all the dross that followed FLCL?). Luckily, under the watchful eye of Hiroyuki Yagama (make another bloody film, you!), Shikabane Hime: Aka turns out to be a solidly entertaining experience. For its first episode, at least.

The visuals are reassuringly comprehensive. GAINAX have gone with their house style character design – that is to say, mild Sadamoto plagiarism – and made it a touch more angular to compliment the eerie atmosphere they’re aiming for. The animation itself doesn’t necessarily dazzle but maintains consistency and has a lot of surprising creativity during the action sequences. What really impressed me about Shikabane’s aesthetics, though, were the gorgeous twilight cityscapes and the use of light in general. I’m massively gay for lighting in animation and Shikabane has a good handle on it – street lights glow in ways that evoke hazy summer evenings, cities are awash with false neon to fend off the night. Good use of lighting can elevate somewhat average animation and make it look special, and this show is an excellent example of such. It’s typical to have such cautious faith at the beginning of a new series, but if this mid-level quality is maintained throughout the run then Shikabane Hime will be a reliable visual experience.

Story-wise, we’re getting a pretty conventional supernatural horror story here, albeit in a very comprehensive, entertaining fashion. Shikabane doesn’t necessarily do anything unexpected with its story or plot, but more importantly it doesn’t strictly abide by the tropes typical of the genre and offer up bland predictability. Fan-service is present, of course, but not jarringly so. The characters are archetypes but likeable and have potential to develop some emotional depth. No particular scene stood out as a ‘wow’ moment yet my attention was absorbed in a way that didn’t feel like I was wasting my time watching. All in all, as with the animation, I’m cautiously optimistic that Shikabane will develop into a solidly entertaining yarn. Part of me is certainly relying on the GAINAX factor to push it above its current mediocre-to-good existence but I can see myself enjoying it even if doesn’t pierce the heavens with its mighty drill-phallus.

Of course, all this reads like the apologies of a fanboy and I actively admit to such concession making. But that’s not to say that Shikabane Hime: Aka isn’t worth keeping an eye on or that GAINAX have shat out another average filler show. Just keep your expectations grounded and you’ll have a good time with it, of this I am sure.