The Anime Review : Xam'd: Lost Memories DVD - Collection 1
Synopsis:
Sentan Island has generally maintained a peaceful isolation from the warring Northern Government and Southern Continent Free Zone. Akiyuki lives there with his divorced parents and schoolmates Furuichi and Haru, but his peaceful life is shattered when a white-haired girl whom he helps get on a bus turns out to be a suicide bomber. In the wake of the resulting explosion the girl implants Akiyuki with a gemlike hiruko, which turns him into a Xam'd, a mecha-like monster who quickly attracts the attention of an assault force of Northern Government biomechs called Humanforms. Most who become Xam'd soon turn to stone, but Akiyuki is saved from such a fate by Nakiami, a young woman skilled in subduing Xam'd and helping them to master their powers. Forced away from Sentan Island, Akiyuki soon finds himself working on Nakiami's home, the postal airship Zanbani, under her watchful eye. Eventually he also gets help from another Xam'd Nakiami once saved, one who is farther down the path of controlled symbiosis. Akiyuki still aspires to make a return trip to Sentan Island at least once more, however, while Nakiami has her own problems looming in her former homeland.
Meanwhile, back on Sentan Island, Haru joins the Mainsoul military section (an anti-Humanform unit) in an effort to find and be reunited with Akiyuki. Her pining for Akiyuki strains her relationship with Furuichi, who also joins but winds up taking his duties much more seriously. As he progresses through his training, he starts to see Akiyuki less as a friend and more as a barrier to his own interest in Haru. When he and Akiyuki eventually reunite, sparks will fly.
Review:
Xam'd represents something of a breakthrough in series anime: a major production whose original release was not via traditional methods such as TV, movie theaters, or hard-copy video release. Instead, it debuted as part of Sony's inaugural launch of the PLAYSTATION Network video download service at the Electronic Entertainment Expo in the U.S. in June 2008. It did receive a Japanese TV broadcast in April of 2009, but its first exposure as a download effectively makes it an ONA (original Net Animation). Doubtless it will not remain a unique case for long. It further distinguishes itself by being one of the first initial-release anime titles to be dubbed by Sentai Filmworks, reaffirming a long-overdue return to dubbed initial-release anime for the company.
While Xam'd is technically an original BONES production, the influence that past anime titles have had on this one is eminently clear in nearly every aspect of the story and artistry. A veteran anime fan cannot watch the series without drawing parallels between Nakiami and Miyazaki's Nausicaä; the sky sled (called a kayak) which Nakiami flies around on even evokes memories of Nausicaä's glider. Miyazaki influences are also in evidence elsewhere, especially in the cat/rabbit Roppa and the designs of certain spirit-like creatures. Numerous story elements are more than just vaguely reminiscent of BONES' own Eureka 7, while some of the vehicle designs, building designs, and animation styles may remind some of Wings of Honneamise. Other story elements have popped up in numerous other anime, including best friends who become enemies essentially over mutual interest in a girl, a young woman who helps a young man manage powers which can monstrously transform him, joining the military with the goal of pursuing a lost loved one, and bioweapon-centered fights. In fact, for as fresh and interesting as the series looks, it actually does very little in its first half that is fresh.
Akiyuki is ostensibly the main character, and definitely gets the lion's share of screen time early on, but as the first half of the series progresses it gradually moves towards a near-even split between what is happening with the crew of the Zanbani and what is going on back on Sentan Island. The former, for all of its attempts to be lively, is pretty formulaic stuff save for the distinctive way that Nakiami goes about dealing with Humanforms and Xam'd. The latter primarily focuses on either Haru and Furuichi or a military officer who comes to Sentan Island to supervise a secret project involving Xam'd, though it also finds time to showcase Akiyuki's parents, too – and that, in fact, may be the series' most unusual move, as anime protagonists of late-high school age with intact and involved parents are actually fairly rare. The vaguely religious Ruikonists, with their creepily similar appearances and unfathomable goals, pop up in both settings to provide interesting complications, though they are present too little in this run of episodes to determine how they fit into the bigger picture beyond turning certain characters into Xam'd.
While the writing may not offer much to entice prospective viewers, the visuals are the series' bigger draw anyway. Though BONES dials back on the animation effort level in later episodes, the earliest episodes are wonders to behold. It isn't so much that they do anything visually spectacular as that they feature a richness of motion typically only seen in movies and other top-budget titles; compare the first couple of episodes to a typical anime TV series episode, with its time-and-budget-saving economy of motion, and the contrast becomes clear. The high-quality animation allows for some impressive early action scenes and respectable later ones, all done with little or no obvious reliance on CG effects, while also showing nice touches on a smaller scale in the unusually animate faces of many characters.
The conceptual visual design of the series also helps set it apart. This is a distinctive setting whose general tech level is equivalent to the mid-20th century but which is spiced up with hyper-advanced biological warfare capabilities, mecha-like fighting units, and flying ships powered by some quasi-magical element. Simple things like buses show a great attention to creative detail, airship designs are inventive, and the background artistry is not shy about using extremely cluttered settings. Designs for the Humanforms are quite eye-catching, with their rounded, bloblike shapes, bold color patterns, and unusual methods for making ranged attacks. (Their implosive attacks are also quite the spectacle.) The Xam'd designs are also distinctive but less special, except for the big one which looks like it has a baby in a kangaroo pouch; it is, in some respects, reminiscent of the aliens in Noein. Of the female character designs, the only one which truly stands out is Nakiami, whose melding of Princess Mononoke's San and Nausicaä gives her a simple, earthy beauty which does not have to rely on flashy costuming or fan service displays to appeal. The Zandani's crewman Akushiba, with his lanky, athletic build and long, thin face, stands out most among the male designs. Other efforts are more typical, though almost invariably well-drawn. Unfortunately, BONES also continues its long-standing practice of struggling with consistent quality control in its character rendering, even in the featured early episodes.
Music director Michiru Oshima, whose previous projects include Fullmetal Alchemist (the first TV series and movie) and Le Chevalier D'Eon, turns in another strong job here. Her soundtrack deftly mixes orchestrated and symphonic pieces (primarily in tense scenes) with recurring folksy themes (primarily in calmer, day-to-day events), creating a tone that is equal parts dramatic and laid-back rustic. This DVD release uses the same opener used for the TV series broadcast, the English-lyrics number “Shut Up and Explode” by Boom Boom Satellites, whose techno sound is so slick that it may captivate even those not normally fans of techno music. TV broadcast closer “Just Breathe” by Kylee closes out each episode with a solid rock beat set to English lyrics which aren't quite as finely-sung as the opener's.
The English dub pulls in some familiar names from the ADV talent pool who have not been heard much in the past couple of years, including Andy McAvin, Hilary Haag, Jessica Boone, and Rob Mungle. Casting decisions here are more interpretive than normal; Luci Christianseiyuu did, while newcomer Adam Von Wagoner uses an obnoxiously droll (but still fitting) vocal style for Akushiba and relative newcomer Chris Hutchinson gives Tojiro Kakisu (the commanding officer) a speaking style which hits the tone of the character right but uses an even, raspy delivery which may not sit well with some. By contrast, Blake Shepherd's Akiyuki is quite conformist. The English script should certainly raise no objections, as it sticks as close to the subtitles as is feasibly possible.
For the DVD release, Sentai Filmworks splits the 13 episodes across two disks. (A Blu-Ray version is also being released simultaneously but was not available for review.) The Extras, included on the first disk, consist of clean versions of the opener and closer used for this release and also for the alternate opener and closers used for the original PSN releases; though those alternate versions are decent numbers, they also feature graphics more squarely from the second half of the series and are completely upstaged by their TV broadcast counterparts anyway.
Xam'd: Lost Memories is probably going to list as a mecha series but actually has a feel more akin to a supernatural or fantasy series. Despite its tendency to ape other series and some bland stretches, it does sport some respectable writing and couples its visual appeal with a concerted effort at character development. That is enough to carry the series for now.
Grade:
Overall (dub) : B
Overall (sub) : B
Story : B
Animation : A-
Art : B+
Music : B+
+ Animation, character development, visual concepts.
− Very run-of-the-mill story execution at times, quality control issues in character rendering.
Product : Xam'd: Collection 1,
Xam'd: Collection 1 [Blu-ray],
Xam'd: Lost Memories Episodes
The Anime Review : Tale of a White Night
Synopsis :
A demonic young girl collecting the limbs of corpses to create the perfect figure; a boarded up storehouse that hides a dozen violent secrets from the childhood of several men doomed to die along with them; a girl whose offerings of lunch will do little to persuade the aid of a group of fox spirits and an incorporeal pale-hand that seeks to lure those who can see it to their deaths.
Review:
Tale of a White Night is a one-shot collection of short stories – a compilation of tales connected by their elements of the supernatural and suspense, as well as a favoured choice of locale in the forest-covered mountains of Japan. These stories aren't likely to make readers lose any sleep but there's a high likelihood of being left wary of what could linger in the shadows.
The goal of each chapter, like many a good ghost story, isn't so much to scare you while you read, per say. Instead they stir up some suspense, toy with the maybes-and-what-ifs of reader's guesses and leave you with that sought-after unsettling feeling when you're done. The first story follows a young man staying up in the hills of a mountain said to be haunted by an oni in the guise of a beautiful girl. Rumors and legend say she collects corpses and uses them to create dolls. When the young man becomes a guest in that very girl's home, he learns what the collecting has truly been for and finds himself bound to be part of the assemblage. The build-up falls on the predictable side but the climatic execution still has its own surprises. Interestingly it doesn't end in the way one expects, though sort of feels like the author may've just changed their mind at the last minute and opted for a different kind of finish.
The following story is one of the book's best at suspense, though it doesn't necessarily equate to the most satisfying of endings. Or one that makes the most sense. Sure it's a little hair-raising but the journey itself is definitely the worthwhile portion of this trip – a story of young men dying one by one, connected by a storehouse in their childhood where they committed considerably more and more disturbing violent acts. What lays in that storehouse that's driven them to death? One man with vague memories of his childhood returns to find out.
Much more satisfying ending-wise is the next story where a young girl wanders a mountain trying to find her way to school. Fox spirits repeatedly try to inform her of the situation's futility while the girl nonetheless keeps wandering in hopes of finding the way out. The reason for her cycle is likely to become apparent to readers fairly early on yet the ending is more than poignant enough to make up for any predictability.
It's then that one must beware… the claw! Or not. The curse of choice in this story is that of a disembodied white hand that gestures to lead the unfortunate to their untimely ends at an equally cursed pond. The twist of sorts is the manner of which people die at the pond, specifics not divulged in leui of the importance of the by-whom over the by-what. A young man returns to this place, in part compelled by memories of the death of his cousin when he was a child. The physical similarities of her to his surviving cousin – sister to the deceased – brings about a nice and spine-chilling resolve, or at least as ‘resolved’ as a good ghost story is expected to be.
Suiting to the stories, but perhaps not to some readers' tastes, is the art style, a distinctly shoujo affair littered with lithe characters, carefully chosen details and wispy, wistful eyes gazing this way and that. It's a very beautiful style, one that compliments the mood of the stories greatly. It could prove however an earnest turn-off to horror-specific fans looking for a fix. Granted, the book itself isn't really specifically tailored to that particular crowd in the first place, maintaining a vibe reminiscent more closely to that of horror manga Pet Shop of Horrors than the classic genre-works of Kazuo Umezu or Kanako Inuki.
The last book in the story unfortunately leaves a far less positive lingering feeling than those before it. By all appearances it looks to be a much older work of the artist though there's such a stark difference in the art style (excluding for some reason one handful of pages in the middle of it) that it could easily be assumed an entirely different artist. The story is also notably different from those before it, a semi-political/racial story about a girl looking for another of her race and seeking the help of someone from her family's past. It proves neither suspenseful nor remarkable; too wordy and with little of interest to show for it. It's also almost a third of the book, the longest of the shorts present, which is unfortunate considering it's easily the weakest. The bulk of the stories in this collection would've been better served released in a smaller page-count book with a cheaper price than a full-length graphic novel bogged down by a story that reads so distinctly out of place.
Tale of a White Night is a recommended read for fans of suspense and light horror, though the lackluster read at the end is a soiling finish to this otherwise eerie compilation. Though perhaps a tad predictable to fans of the tropes at times, the bulk of these ethereally paranormal stories are generally successful at their intended creepy factor – an enjoyable one-shot read that should make the tree shadows on your window look a tad more unnerving tonight.
Grade:
Overall : B
Story : B
Art : B+
+ Successfully haunting stories; an attractive shoujo art-style that helps set the enigmatic air of the curse-centric chapters
− A terrible tack-on story to round out the book's page count that feels suiting to neither the subject matter, tone or quality of the stories before it
The Anime Review : Okamisan Episodes 1-6 Streaming
Synopsis:
Otogibana City. Squint a little and at its center you'll see Otogi Academy. Squint a little more and you'll see the Otogi Academy Mutual Student Aid Association, AKA the Otogi Bank. The Otogi Bank is a club that lends favors to students; at interest, of course. Its members span a range of specialties, from information gathering to housekeeping. And brawling, naturally. In the brawling category is Ryoko Ookami, an asocial girl with a mean left jab. While hurting thugs for the Bank, Ryoko meets Ryoshi Morino. Well, sort of. Actually Ryoshi is cowering in the shadows watching her hurt thugs. Ryoshi, it seems, has a serious phobia about being watched, seen, or even paid attention to. Nevertheless he summons the courage to confess his feelings—yeah, he's smitten—to Ryoko. Who promptly shoots him down. Fortunately for Ryoshi, that isn't before his tracking skills—sharpened by a lifetime of avoiding notice—are noted by the Bank. Which just as promptly recruits him.
Review:
Disappointment seems a strong word to describe something as enjoyable as Okamisan. But how else do you describe something that neglects what is fresh and interesting in it while feeding all that is stale and worn?
First what is fresh and interesting. Okamisan is a fairy tale (the town's name is a play on the word for fairy tale). Or, more accurately, it's a bunch of them; melded with anime tropes in strange ways, and warped to comic ends. Fun little inventions abound. The Big Bad Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood as best buds with moe personality types (tsundere and evil loli respectively)? Prince Charming as a pain addict, and Cinderella as his supplier? How about the fable of the Tortoise and the Hare, played as a vicious political smear campaign...for a beauty pageant? The series has a great, playful sense of fun, from its slightly goofy fairy-tale conflicts (the re-enactment of Momotaro's oni-hunt is a blast) to its caustic voice-of-God narrator and athletic pratfalls. At Otogi Academy magic—that endangered anime quality—abounds and in a light and free-spirited form that delights. And that word is not used lightly.
Unfortunately, the series isn't interested in magic. Or at least, not as interested as it should be. Instead it throws its weight behind its dramatic ambitions. Though episodic by nature, the show has a continuing plot. It concerns the cause of Ryoko's tsundere-hood, and is played dead serious and darkly so. That isn't a problem per se—any good fairy tale has to have a dark heart—but unfortunately Okamisan's trips into the shadows display none of the verve or imagination that its frolics in the land of inter-cultural mash-ups do. Ultimately Ryoko's back-story devolves into the kind of sledgehammer-sad flashback that shonen fans have learned to dread, dragging the series painfully away from its fun-loving heart. Angst turns the characters from modernized myths into typical tortured teens, and Ryoko gets her personality strip-searched, which leads to the shocking revelation that her aggression is a cover for her insecurities, which in turn stem from a terrible past trauma. As if anyone needed a pop psychological dissection of the tsundere personality type. That isn't a vein of drama, or a weighty undertone; that's a digression, and worse yet, a dull one.
Before you give up on the series, though, keep in mind that in the war between Okamisan's inventive fairy-tale humor and hackneyed drama, the humor usually wins. During its darker moments Ryoshi and Ryoko's relationship may swing in a lightly chauvinistic "man protect woman" direction, but it inevitably returns to the comically reversed sex roles of the status quo. For now. And Ryoko's tragic past? It isn't all cheap psychology, bad flashbacks, and tired soul-searching. It is introduced, after all, in a fight during which Momotaro's subordinates swear their loyalty to their buxom master's, er, sweets.
Okamisan puts a lot of effort into its storybook atmosphere, often in subtle ways. In addition to sneaking in some sly jokes, Satomi Arai's running commentary and the accompanying narrator vs. character spats arrange the proper story-telling distance. The sunny, colorful, and just slightly unreal environs set the mood, and the fairy-tale costuming amplifies it. And sealing the deal are Masahi Okita's archetypical characters. Archetypical being a nice way of saying they embody a single character trait—which if you think about it makes them very fairy-tale-ish, particularly as they tend to act out their one trait in outrageous ways. Haruka Iizuka gives each archetype a suitably distinctive design, though with a length of jaw and angularity of lip that also lends them enough stylistic homogeneity to qualify as a "look." Specifically a Toradora!-ish look.
Tellingly, that storybook atmosphere breaks down some during Okamisan's gloomier and more violent interludes. That the action scenes rely on your usual stew of shortcuts, fancy cutting, and speed-blurring doesn't rankle nearly so much as the generic dark atmosphere the series adopts for most of them. Ditto the introspective sequences. Though the shortcuts, fancy cutting, and speed blurring are telling in their own way. When Okamisan stages a bright, silly action sequence (e.g Cinderella accidentally caving in Prince Charming's puss), they tend decrease in density. Though director Yoshiaki Iwasaki does what he can with the series' downbeat turns, his heart is obviously in the goofing rather than the pain.
Megumi Oohashi 's score keeps far, far out of the way. Throughout the majority of the series it is either absent, inaudible, or buried behind overlapping dialogue and narration. If it weren't for the electric guitar jolts it unleashes during some of the more active sequences, it would qualify as minimal. It isn't likely to sell many soundtracks, but it does its job, and with a self-effacing quietude that's refreshing.
If you're looking to explore the darkness that underlies fairy tales, you'd be advised to seek out the overlooked Princess Tutu, which does so with gusto, and deconstructs the act of story-telling in the process. Okamisan, in the meantime, is content with milking its moe/fairy-tale collisions for snarky asides and S&M jokes. Which is fine, as they are fresh snarky asides and hilarious S&M jokes ...And since its flashes of ambition are usually accompanied by embarrassing narrative face-plants.
Oh, and if you're wondering what exactly Momotaro's oni-hunt is...well, you may want to bone up on your Japanese folklore. Though fine without it, full enjoyment of Okamisan requires a certain level of cultural knowledge.
Grade:
Overall (sub) : B
Story : C+
Animation : B
Art : B+
Music : B
+ A sharp-looking shot of warped storybook fun; likeable goober for a male protagonist.
− Mucks about with unimaginative angst that has a depressing tendency to disempower its female lead.
It all begins with some simple curiousity – who is that guy that Rei Ayanami is hanging out with?! Shinji follows his classmate one night to discover the relationship between her and the new transfer student yet suddenly finds himself both witness and victim to a battle over a powerful ‘core’. Under attack by a wandering consciousness in possession of human corpses, aptly called ‘Angels’ for their appearance, Shinji becomes a surprise table-turner in the fight. In light of his ability, he's brought into the fold, revealing a secret group of students in his school fighting the Angels to retrieve the cores and save the world by wielding their own personal Evas.
Review:
Campus Apocalypse is another spin-off series that takes the cast of Neon Genesis Evangelion In order to battle the ‘angels’, the protectors of the tree wield their own speciality weapons that are manifestations of their inner selves. These accessories are called Evas but don't expect any big city stomping mechs. Asuka wields a whip, Kaworu a sword and Ayanami a recognizable spear. All seem pretty suiting to their users, though Shinji's eventual acquisition of a spirit gun seems a little odd. Sure it matches his try-not-to-get-too-involved attitude but seeing him swing around a pistol is still weird none the less.
The book keeps to a pretty evenly laid out pace, starting with some mundane but character-defining everyday routine (involving some entertaining Shinji-sort-of-stalking Ayanami sequences) before transitioning into the fight scene that sets things into motion. From there it moves into exposition-mode. Things sag around this middle portion as pages get progressively wordier. The explanation of the ‘world's tree’ is fairly straight-forward yet also a bit convoluted, hopefully leading to more potentially dramatic content instead of just being mysterious for the sake of being mysterious.
Shinji predictably begins his road of debate of whether or not he wants to participate in this apparently waging war. Seeing Shinji with some conviction is nice yet the cliché-dripping execution of his resolve (“I just don't want to see anyone I know get hurt.”) just reads too expectedly and average of a hundred characters before him to feel very exciting. This even despite it being during a fight scene with an Angel-possessed woman that makes up the volume's ending chapter. It's not that wanting to save people, and not have others need to save you all the same time, isn't a good reason per say, but it just feels purely for plot-purpose over thought and will likely leave some fans of the original missing his more selfish but relatable disposition.
The personalities of the well-known lead cast of Shinji, Ayanami, Kaworu and Asuka are all relatively intact, though it's amazing what a lack of immediate Daddy-issues can do for Shinji. Kaworu is also notably less creepy but the story still plays on fans' knowledge of his original interactions, poking at some amusing assumptions early on in light of Kaworu's quick interest in his classmate. Poised to become even more relevant over time, familiar-faced classmates, teachers and campus nurses are also present with others undoubtedly hiding in the wings waiting for their time to spring out.
By-appearance, all the returning characters will be instantly recognizable as their original counterparts without merely looking like trace-overs of the original look. The book is an overall impressive artistic piece for the creator's first graphic novel length work, bearing only a few little ticks here and there that lack notable polish. There are some inconsistent transitions between close-ups that often clutter up some dramatic scenes while certain action sequences prove a little difficult to follow for much the same reason. Individual shots throughout prove really eye-catching however, especially when the artist has more freedom with the designs - offering up some stand-out villains who, for better or worse, visually overshadow the leads when they appear for however brief a time.
The whole book sports good production values that include a full colour interior illustration and a well-designed front cover that compliments the artwork and should make for good flip-through reasoning on store shelves. The back of the book has an especially nicely laid out design as well, an area often overlooked on books but one that proves no less compelling for evidence of design quality. There are some points where the English adaptation reads a little oddly, a little too much care taken perhaps to imitating a teenager's speech patterns (Shinji likes his 'uh's and 'like's), but it's a fairly smooth overall experience. The book itself ends with some character sketches and a word from the book's English editor.
A pretty far cry from other alternate universe manga-takes on this anime classic, which tend to air on the side of simply cramming familiar faces into stereotypical-trimmings, Campus Apocalypse successfully tells its own story while using the original source material as fuel instead of fire. It's not the most unique story out there, and lucks some lustre because of it, but a fairly vibrant sense of pacing and some appealing artwork make this an introductory volume that's capable of providing some decent entertainment to those both new and old to the franchise.
Grade:
Overall : B-
Story : C+
Art : B
+ An interesting mix of supernatural and science that works with the elements of NGE while still being accessible to those who haven't seen the original; strong artwork that suits both existing characters and new elements; generally good action scenes
− Shinji's decision to partake in fighting the Angels reads both shallow and stereotypical; plot in regards to the what and whys of the World Tree needs more clarification and less ethereal dependency
Humans once achieved immortality, only to be supplanted in rulership of the world by equally immortal robots under the leadership of Braiking Boss. . . and then the Sun who was named Moon, the giver of life to humans and robots alike, was assassinated on Braiking Boss's orders, and the Ruin came upon the world. Years later, the world is a ruined and desolate place mostly devoid of humans, one where sentient robots suffer from the rapid-decaying effects of the Ruin. A popular rumor has spread amongst robots that by devouring Casshern, the supposed killer of Luna and the rare robot to have escaped the Ruin entirely, one can overcome the Ruin, but Casshern himself wanders the wastelands devoid of memory, with only the accusations of the female robot Lyuze as proof that he was, indeed, responsible for the death of Luna and thus for the Ruin as well. Beset on all sides, Casshern must fight as he struggles to discover the truth about himself (he is apparently the one remaining immortal in a setting where everyone now dies) and rumors that Luna is still alive as well while also attempting to reconcile with his guilt. Along his journey he encounters other distinctive recurring characters, including the old man Ohji; the little girl/robot Ringo; the robotic dog Friender; Dio, a robot who shares similar abilities and body structure with Casshern and seeks only to defeat him; and Leda, a sleek female robot who seeks to use Dio as a tool to succeed Braiking Boss as ruler of the world. In his encounters with them and other groups the true depths of sin and despair, and how hope may still triumph through them all, can be found.
Review:
In revamping the classic 1973 Tatsunoko series Shingo Ninzen Casshan (probably better-known to American fans for its 1993 OVA remake Casshan Robot Hunter), Madhouse Studios and director Shigeyasu Yamauchi (of St. Seiya fame) have done as dramatic a reinterpretation of earlier anime source material as you're ever likely to see. Some of the key character names – Casshern, Luna, Friender, Braiking Boss – and the basic concept of Casshern fighting robots that have taken over the world from humans remain as bones to be thrown to fans of the earlier versions of the series, as does Casshern's basic character design, but that's it. This is otherwise an utterly different tale in content, tone, and focus, with some characters (most notably Luna) functioning in utterly different roles. Because of that, this version is also completely accessible even to those who were never aware that previous versions of the franchise exist.
Whether or not Yamauchi and MADHOUSE's efforts here will actually resonate with viewers is another story. Their goals are certainly ambitious: they seem to create a grand allegory on various aspects of despair and guilt and the ways to combat it, and that is not something that is going to be easy for most viewers to understand or appreciate. The almost unrelenting grimness of the setting will certainly be a turn-off for some; the tale as a whole is practically a dirge for civilization, after all. The principle characters hardly do much to rectify that, either, as Casshern is suicidal at times, Lyuze is intent on making him suffer for what he's done, almost everyone else he meets is hostile to him, and everyone speaks in either subdued or angry tones. In fact, in its early stages the series offers little hope for anything better, including a second episode which features a gathering of robots who have all resigned themselves to dying from the Ruin (a kind of plague which makes robotic bodies crumble and fall apart) and the recurring message about how Casshern is supposedly responsible for all of this – and my, has a bigger guilt trip ever been laid on an anime character? One of the series' most powerful images involves Casshern and friends coming across a carnival of robots who have been cured of the Ruin, where a robot boy repeatedly jumps off a high platform and slams into the ground just because he can't die from it. Rarely has immortality seemed so disconcertingly devoid of life.
Two things can make this series fascinating to watch, however, and one is the hope, faint though it may be, which exists in the setting. The girl Ringo is the embodiment of it, though exactly why this is so is not clear until much later, and the songstress Casshern protects in one episode is another. Flowers present in an otherwise-desolate terrain have long been symbolic of hope and they are used in this manner on several occasions here. One of the best episodes involves a crippled painter who wants to repaint an entire ruined city to leave his mark for those that follow, while another involves a female robot who strives to make a bell to ring out a beautiful sound across the land (although this one ends up being a bit twisted).
There is a certain elegance to many aspects of the series which can be captivating, too. This is actually most evident in the fight scenes, as Casshern's sleek form and graceful yet devastating movements are a thing of beauty, especially in one early episode where Casshern encounters a female warrior-robot who equates battle with life and fights as though part of a ballet. It can also be seen in the purposefully languid pacing and delicate handling of the subject matter whenever Casshern is not busy beating down on assorted robots and in Luna's attitudes and actions later in the series. Lyuze's struggles to change her mind about Casshern and come to terms with her feelings as the story progresses also speak to this.
When stripped of the above considerations, the storytelling in the series falls into a more or less episodic structure with a vague underlying plot for much of its run. It is, essentially, a man's search for purpose and identity and an examination of the power that sin can have on the sinner, and that requires a lot of exploring, after all. The plot tightens up in the second half as Casshern eventually unites with other recurring characters in a quest to find the apparently-still-alive Luna, reconcile a gross misconception about what Luna is and does, and then decide how to move forward after that. Meanwhile, in a parallel plot, Leda schemes for power and tries to manipulate Dio to that end, while Dio only seeks to absolve his long-standing inferiority complex towards Casshern. Some details almost cry out for a better definition than they ever get along the way, such as what exactly Ringo is, how some robots seem capable of human functions like growth and shedding tears and blood, and how robots power themselves, and sorting out the particulars of Luna is an exercise in piecing together vague statements. The end of the series is bittersweet and open-ended, though it does wrap up the most important plot elements and is truly the exact kind of ending this series had to have. Still, it may leave some viewers disappointed.
The artistry of the series is an interesting mix between late '60s/early '70s stylistic elements (especially in the robot designs) and modern technical wizardry. Casshern's design takes the color scheme and essential elements of the original and puts them on a sleeker frame, creating such a contrast to the drab, boxier look of most of the robots that he does, indeed, look as beautiful as many characters claim he is. In fact, with the exception of the more voluptuous Leda and the thuggish-looking Braiking Boss, all of the top-grade robots have lithe, humanlike forms vaguely (and likely purposely) reminiscent of ballet dancers. Even Luna conforms to this, although her short, ultra-petite form, distinctive headgear (which looks kinda like a motorcycle helmet), and weird eyes give her an alien look, and so does Friender. Contrasting this is the toddler-like pudginess that Ringo has for most of the series. The character rendering varies in style a lot, making it hard to determine what visual discrepancies are deliberate and which ones aren't, though the generally bleak and wasted landscape weighted down with a depressing color scheme and constantly-blowing flakes remains a constant. The animation shines in the fight scenes, which mix the graceful spins and flips of a dancer with devastating strikes, and generally looks good elsewhere, too.
Music director Kaoru Wada (3x3 Eyes, Ninja Scroll, Princess Tutu) lends his considerable talent to this series, with impressive results. Some of the musical themes seem more than a bit derivative of InuYasha (not surprising, since he also scored that whole franchise), but they do an excellent job of setting tone and mood for the series and appropriately dramatizing certain scenes. The insert song which appears in an early episode, and pops up occasionally as a theme in later episodes, suits the series well in both composition and music, although its sung-in-English vocals do not impress. (And yes, it was sung in English in the Japanese dub, too.) Opener “Aoi Hana” is a suitable but unremarkable pop-rock number. Original closer “Reason” gets replaced by new closer “Hikari to Kage” with episode 14; both are equally pleasant songs that are both gentler and lower-key.
The roles for the series require most characters who aren't robots chanting “kill Casshern” to speak in subdued tones, so the material gives little room for the English dub to shine. Eric Vale does a fine job as Casshern, as do Trina Nishimura as Luna and Jerry Russell as Ohji, while Shelley Calene-Black is perhaps a little too subdued as Lyuze and Jerry Jewell never sounds quite comfortable as Dio. Contrarily, Monica Rial is such an ideal fit for Ringo that not hearing her voice this role would have been a shock. The roster of guest appearances throughout the series constitute a Who's Who for 2000s English dubbing; see how many you can identify without looking, and almost none disappoint. The script is not one of the more verbose ones out there, so the adjustments Funimation makes are not major ones. On the Japanese side, the dub cast is stocked with venerable veterans including Tohru “Tuxedo Mask” Furuya and 71-year-old Kenji Utsumi, who in voicing Braiking Boss reprises a role he first performed in the original TV series 35 years earlier.
Funimation took the rather unusual move of simultaneously releasing on Blu-Ray both 12-episode halves of the series, though the included trailers suggest that this may not be the last time they make such a move for a first-run release. Their Blu-Ray disks use an AVC MPEG-4 codec at 1080p, and while the video quality is quite sharp, it does also feature some minor flaws that could, in many cases, be interpreted as deliberate stylistic intent. The audio is superb on the English track, good but less impressive on the Japanese track, with the series' strong use of song effects coming through exceptionally well. The episodes in each half are spread across two disks in a 9-3 count, with Extras on Part One's second disk including clean opener, the clean version of the first closer, and a 12 minute “Pre-Air Event” video featuring Yamauchi and most of the principal Japanese vocal cast. Extras on Part Two's second disk include clean opener, the clean version of the second regular closer, TV commercials, and a music video featuring a live performance of the long version of “Aoi Hana.”
Casshern Sins is one of those series which will either quickly fascinate you or quickly turn you off. It sacrifices the brashness and energy one would normally expect from a robot-focused anime title for a story rich in style and symbolism, one which concentrates on individual vignettes early on before shifting to a more plot-heavy focus in its later stages. The story falters a bit in how smoothly it carries out some of its character development and the way it stretches out an overall plot that is not especially meaty to being with; the series probably could have been finished in 20 episodes without feeling like it was missing anything. Ultimately the series is, for better or worse, a prime example of what can happen when a studio and director are given free reign to dramatically reinterpret source material.
Grade:
Overall (dub) : B+
Overall (sub) : B+
Story : B
Animation : B+
Art : B+
Music : B+
+ Very sleek and stylish, laden with symbolism and allegory, superb sound effects.
− May be too oppressively grim for some, stretches its plot.
Synopsis:
For as long as she can remember, Asumi Kamogawa has dreamed of becoming an astronaut. But now she's having second thoughts after hearing that her father may have been at fault for the disastrous crash of Japan's first manned spacecraft, The Lion. Asumi runs away from the Tokyo Space School and returns home to reconsider her feelings, and thankfully, her imaginary friend Mr. Lion is there to help sort things out. When Asumi returns to school, she and her friends make a pact to pass the training program together—and that includes quiet, aloof Marika, who doesn't seem very interested in making friends. But a summer excursion with Asumi, Marika, and everyone else reveals that even a cold exterior may conceal some surprising secrets.
Review:
It's all too sad! For a story that is supposed to be uplifting and heartwarming, Twin Spica is just too sad. An astronaut who died in a rocket crash, a mother killed by that same crash, a father and daughter left behind as a result—it's like a litany of unspeakable tragedies, and that's just the premise of the series. Volume 3 piles on even more, with Asumi's academic career on the brink, her father's reputation clouded by scandal, a schoolmate trying to escape her psychologically stunted upbringing, and a flashback about a terminally ill childhood friend. What kind of manga-ka does Kou Yaginuma think he is? Is he a masochist who likes to make his characters suffer? Is there anything in Twin Spica that doesn't culminate in heartbreak and death?
Surprisingly, yes there is. In fact, the series isn't really about heartbreak and death at all—but those bleak siutations are necessary for the characters to grow stronger in the first place. When Asumi has her crisis of conscience in the first chapter, the uplifting part comes when she talks herself out of it (along with the help of Mr. Lion, who as a spectre of the afterlife has some issues of his own to tackle). The same happens with Marika later on as she struggles to come out of her self-imposed shell, and this time it's Asumi extending a hand of support. Friends helping friends, seeking solace wherever it can be found, "making up for what was lost" (to quote Mr. Lion)—this is what the story is really about. Not wallowing in tragedy, but showing how it can be overcome, one step at a time.
This volume also deals out plenty of backstory, filling out character histories to help us empathize with them better. Marika is the biggest winner in this regard, having come out of Volume 2 with a reputation as an unlikable ice queen. However, the reasons for her aloofness are finally revealed here, in poignant flashbacks that fit themselves neatly into the main story. The adults in the story also clear up the situation about what really happened during the building of the ill-fated Lion rocket, with a rollercoaster of conflict and redemption surrounding Asumi's father and a rival engineer. There's even room for a side story that, while not essential to the plot, offers a glimpse into Asumi's first childhood crush (if it can be called that) without getting too maudlin about it.
And really, that emotional restraint is part of Twin Spica's magic—that Yaginuma can subject his characters to such emotional highs and lows without going overboard, that any of these events could have led to Asumi breaking out in tears, but most of the time she doesn't. The only thing lacking, perhaps, is actual elements of astronautics and space science in the story—sure, the kids go on a multi-axis trainer as part of a test, but aside from that this could be any story about friendship and self-discovery. Perhaps the space-cadet stuff will work its way in as Asumi comes closer to her goal?
The series' restrained approach also applies to the art, where Yaginuma—perhaps aware of his own limits—keeps things refreshingly simple. With button eyes, baby faces and stubby hands, the character designs rely on the appeal of cuteness without forcing the fetishes of typical otaku fare (this volume originally came out in 2002, a time that seems almost innocent and nostalgic by 2010 standards). Simplicity also applies to the page layouts, with clearly marked borders between panels and straightforward sequences that tell the story without pretension. While the overall style may not be anything spectacular, the book's deepest, most touching moments are often depicted in panels without words—Asumi and company pledging their eternal friendship, Mr. Lion watching over the lives he left behind, Marika dreaming of a world beyond her own. With some nuanced shading and carefully chosen angles, even the most mundane scene can evoke a strong emotional response.
A similar effect happens with the dialogue, where simple words and phrases combine to tell heart-piercing truths. (Compare this against other forms of dramatic manga dialogue, where words and phrases ... combine ... into ambiguous utterances ... that make no sense.) That gobbledygook effect doesn't happen in this translation, where every line is clear and precise, whether it's Mr. Lion sharing his wisdom or Asumi and friends chatting boisterously about their summer plans. Some of it may lean toward the sentimental side, but it's never overly melodramatic. The occasional sound effects in the artwork are also handled without fuss, being unobtrusive enough that a small English translation next to each set of characters does the job. A brief notes section in the back also explains some of the wordplay and cultural in-jokes that sneak their way into the story.
What Twin Spica is really doing, then, is piling on all that sadness and tragedy for the express purpose of having the characters overcome it. It's not so much about everyone dying and suffering as it is about learning to move on and make something of your life after the bad stuff happens. And for Kou Yaginuma to express this wisdom in such simple yet profound terms, with just a hint of the fantastical, is why the story grabs the imagination so effectively. Asumi is not an impossibly cheerful heroine, nor is she a butt-kicking force of nature, nor is she a yelling, screeching drama queen bemoaning her fate. She's something in the middle, a likable everyday character for the rest of us—and that is what makes her story so resonant and real.
Grade:
Overall : B
Story : B
Art : B-
+ Characters continue to grow, key details in the backstory are filled in, and deep truths about life are revealed through simple yet effective storytelling.
− Art can look too unsophisticated for some eyes. For a story about spaceflight, there isn't a whole lot of it.
It's been over a year since Tetsuhiro Morinaga confessed his feelings for love to Souichi Tatsumi. Bad idea that was. Souichi is a very years his senior and about as reversed as could be in regards to his notions of male-male relationships. Cranky and callous, Souichi wants nothing to do with it and shares his homophobic believes on a regular basis, even calling to harrass his little brother who is living happily with his boyfriend. But when a night out drinking with a friend puts a bottle of aphrodisiac in his hands, it remains to be seen if Morinaga has found himself the perfect opportunity or the worst-case-scenario.
Review:
The Tyrant Who Falls In Love has at last landed – the long awaited spin-off series to Hinako Takanaga's boys' love fluff-tale, Challengers. Originally licensed by DramaQueen, Tyrant fell into limbo when the company stopped business for a number of years, but while DQ may've let it go, fans certainly didn't. Scooped up by Digital Manga in a move both expected and anticipated for years, this cheeky non-con tales of boys 'love is finally available in English for the eager hands of its supporters.
Tetsuhiro Morinaga has been in love with his upper-classman for over four years, but it's a bit of a unique case when the object of his affection is a temperamental, high-strung homophobe. It's quickly, and loudly, apparent that this isn't going to be another tale of blushing schoolboys.
First seen in Challengers as the dangerously overprotective older brother, Souichi Tatsumi is as anti-gay as ever and he will never let a situation go where he can share his thoughts. Granted his outbursts are mostly belligerently brief ramblings but his passion for hatred is always there and he even does his research to inspire it, such as rambling around the same-sex marriage movements in California. He goes so far out of his way to freak out over the smallest implication at times that even readers who can't see the obvious direction the story is going may still be left hoping he gets broken in just to shut him up. At the same time, it's the same things that make him so funny. He's a jerk alright but it just makes us want to read about him more, see how things go.
Non-consensual sexual acts can never be morally justified but Tyrant plays with the idea coyly even by boys' love standards, making Souichi feel far less a victim than the weeping, submissive types seen in most other stories. It doesn't make it okay but you'd hard pressed to find a fan who doesn't find the immense tug and pull of their ‘relationship’ to be the real engaging part of the story. We don't want to see Souichi get raped but we guiltily don't want to see him stop protesting either.
Quick to give the characters a sharp push forward, a night of drinking leads to Souichi drinking a bottle of some kind of aphrodisiac. While at first it looks like he may be unaffected, soon he's at attention with no sign of abating. And he'll be damned if he deals with it in the same room as Morinaga. But a combination of sympathy and not wanting to let the chance go leads Morinaga to taking long, toying and messy care of Souichi – a fairly lengthy scene that despite some negative connotations shouldn't disappoint any sexual connoisseurs. In the morning all conceptions of Souichi are proven accurate as he awakens with a painful hangover and promptly seeks vengeance against his attacker with a broken wine bottle.
What results however is a surprisingly gut-wrenching emotional hit as Souichi exposes himself truly hurt by the act, assaulted regardless of the situation by someone who he sees as a friend, regardless of what he thought of his sexual preference. Out of guilt, Morinaga prepares to leave the university the two work at together while his subsequent absence wears on Souichi's mind over time. Yes, he's still upset and disturbed over what happened, but he also can't deny the hole that's left by Morinaga not being there, both in regards to their work and as an acquaintance. He becomes increasingly frustrated by Morinaga's decision to run away over facing what he did, while even beginning to fear that Souichi may've exacted vengeance on himself and taken his own life when no one seems to know where he is.
Eventually though, Morinaga does resurface and Souichi is right there to punch him for it. A lot of cussing and yelling later, the two come to a sort of understanding, or at least a long-in-the-coming honest talk. Little surprise though when it gets Morinaga all fired up and he passionately gets Souichi back on the bed. The tyrant continues to exclaim he doesn't want the this sexual encounter any more than he did the first, while even Morinaga points out to him that now, under no influence of alcohol or drugs, that if he really didn't want it, he could easily push him off or just leave. Of course, Souichi doesn't do either. Cue another cuss-filled, denial-ridden sex scene!
While the story already manages to fit in a compelling amount of emotional resonance and steamy sex scenes, the stand-out moments of the volume are definitely the humourous ones. Soichi is hilarious and his reactions are both so crass and honest about any given situation that you can't help but at least chuckle. Being disgusted by a post-sex shower and discovering after-effects trickling down your leg may sound more gross than funny, but when noticed by Souichi, it's another moment to laugh out loud. We fans feel for him, we really do, but it's impossible not to laugh all the same. He takes everything one step further than it needs to be and the over-reaction is more than half the series' fun.
Hinako Takanaga's art style aids in this immensely. Morinaga, despite his more dubious of decisions, is a sympathetic character with his doey, caring eyes. His mop of black hair and lab coat make him cute but easily distinguishable as the proper age. He seems dull in comparison to Souichi though, who in spending most of his page-time looking pissed off, is rendered perfectly to that effect. His mannerisms and expressions are hilarious, so full of spite for life and accentuated by some fun panels and close-ups. This is a man who is going to die young of stress-related disease (completely of his own doing) and the art shows it well. His long ponytail, even at the risk of stereotyping, seems a little odd for someone who is feverently against being feminine or homosexual, yet as far as character designs go it makes him both distinct within the story and in the artist's repertoire of other characters. Plus he just looks good with it.
Digital Manga's work on the series shows the care taken to a fan-favourite. There're a lot of wordy pages in the volume, not in quantity but in sheer style and format – many moments of screaming and various levels of emotional outburst that make this a much louder manga volume than most boys' love tales – and the adaptation handles them all well. Soichi's foul-mouth and anger is especially venomous while still reading with a very natural flow. The text is well placed, though some of the sound effect work looks a little sloppy and potentially mistaken for out-of-bubble speech. The cover art design, which sits upon a nice large trim-size, utilizes bright colours that actually suit the tone of the story a bit better than the more pastel colours of the original. The colours themselves could stand to be a little less neon orange and green though. It appears Digital Manga is playing around with the colour schemes on each subsequent volume, however, and previews of the second volume's cover already show a vast colour-scheme improvement.
Ultimately, The Tyrant Who Falls In Love proves itself worth the wait. The story itself doesn't feel entirely fresh but the characters more than make up for it and then some. Soichi is such a standout character that Morinaga almost feels like a dull liability purely in comparison. The two make for a fun ‘couple’ through and through – playing off each other's reactions in a way that won't always be comfortable for readers but is never, ever short of entertaining.
Grade:
Overall : A-
Story : B
Art : A
+ Soichi Tatsumi is a hilariously crass character who gives the whole book a brimming energy; Hinako Takanaga's artwork is eye-catching and responsible for the majority of the series' most poignant funny and heartfelt moments, not to mention some satisfying sex scenes for all involved
− Some readers may be offended by Souichi's homophobic sentiments and a non-consensual sex scene
NOTE: The cover picture shown is for the book's actual cover and not the slipcover.
Synopsis:
Two weeks have passed since the trouble in Pazzio (as detailed in the first novel), and Lawrence and companion Holo have fallen into a comfortable routine of travel and playful exchanges, with Lawrence still typically coming out on the short end. A fresh complication comes into play when the pair encounters a young shepherdess named Norah, an auspicious event both because female shepherds are quite rare and because Holo has a long-standing hatred for shepherds due to their protection of “walking meat.” (It's a wolf thing, you see.) The fact that Norah is rather fetching and seems to catch Lawrence's eye doesn't sit well with Holo, either. A greater complication arises, though, when a combination of Lawrence's greed and an unexpected fluctuation in trade good prices puts Lawrence on the brink of financial and professional ruin. Backed into a corner, Lawrence hatches a desperate plan, one which involves both Norah and an equally desperate trading company and which could potentially save them all in the long run. The plan carries potentially deadly risk – and not just from human elements – but with a Wisewolf on his side, Lawrence at least has a potent, if capricious, ally.
Review:
Author Isuna Hasekura follows up his award-winning success with his founding Spice and Wolf novel with another strong entry in the franchise. Called simply Volume 2, the second novel is a direct continuation of the first which follows with only a comparatively minor time lag. While the first few pages briefly review past events, and the story is not deeply connected to the previous one, attempting to read this novel without having read the first one (or seen the corresponding anime episodes) is not advised, as the story makes several references to earlier events without much elaboration. Seeing how the Lawrence/Holo relationship has developed into what it is at this point is also crucial to fully understanding the relationship tribulations that happen here.
For those who have read the first novel, Hasekura's writing and storytelling style remain intact, which is both a Good Thing and a Bad Thing. On the good side, he continues to skillfully handle Holo's characterization and the exchanges between Lawrence and Holo, both of which lie at the heart of the franchise's charm. He also, once again, adeptly involves his leads in another tale grounded deeply in medieval economics, highlighting how religion can play deeply into the way people do business, how much or little trust is involved in business dealings, how knowing how to read people is so important in the business of trade, and how the specific formalities of discussing business play out even in the most stressful of situations. This may also be the only anime/manga-related work where drastic price fluctuations due to an unexpected shift in supply and demand is the key plot point, although the scheme designed to save Lawrence's livelihood also has its own nice climax. The way he paints a merchant's distinctive view of the world continues to be fascinating. On the downside, the overall pacing and structure of the story, including the action climax, is a bit repetitive and Isuna is a little too fond of one-liner paragraphs – a phenomenon not necessarily limited to his writing amongst English translations of original Japanese lite novels but one which nonetheless gets annoying after a while.
While the temperamental wolf-in-teen-girl-form Holo is unquestionably the star attraction, Norah ably fills the role of the featured guest despite only directly being involved in about a third of the book. She is convincingly-portrayed, as is the very practical predicament she is trapped in which ultimately makes her vulnerable to being talked into Lawrence's scheme; watching Lawrence steer her into doing exactly what he wants, without forcing the issue, is like watching a con job go down, and that Lawrence has enough misgivings to feel dirty about doing it, despite his desperate need for her participation, is also perfectly understandable. In any other anime-related product she'd be painted as a moe character, but Hasekura skillfully avoids that by masking her vulnerability with a calm competence capable of discouraging wolf pack attacks.
For those who have seen the first anime series, episodes 8-13 were such a direct adaptation of this novel that it even duplicates the dialogue virtually word-for-word in many places. Since there are only 280 pages of story here, the anime padded itself out a bit by playing out some scenes that were only described or implied in the novel, such as one showing the townspeople shunning Norah as she walks through Ruvenheigen or a brief scene showing Holo confronting the wolf pack towards the end, but this is also partly a result of the anime, unlike the novel, being told from a third-person perspective rather than Lawrence's exclusive perspective. The only change of any note between the versions is a minor variation on how the book's final scene plays out in the anime (which makes the anime version much funnier) and the only entirely new scenes are the scenes at the very end of episode 13, which happen after the end of the book. The advantage of the anime version is getting to see all of Holo's idiosyncrasies in action, while the advantage of the book version is getting a bit more background information about the setting.
After the big controversy about the two different covers during the release of the first book, Yen Press has apparently decided to compromise by shipping this oversized paperback book with a slipcover which uses the same human model from the first book's cover (albeit this time in appropriate clothing - see left) while retaining the original Japanese cover, in essentially the same pose, on the book cover itself. The book features eight pages of color illustrations up front and several more black-and-white illustrations throughout, all once again provided by Jyuu Ayakura and done in a competent but unimpressive manga style. The book closes out with a two-paged Afterword by Hasekura and a page with brief bios for both author and writer. Yen Press's translation is smooth and almost entirely free of grammatical errors.
Though longer and a bit meatier in terms of plot, Hasekura's sophomore effort is not quite as sharp and fresh as the ground-breaking original effort, nor does it delve quite as heavily into the underlying loneliness which draws his leads together. Nonetheless, this novel does everything necessary to hold the interest of those who fell in love with the original book and the story is far from resting on its laurels.
Grade:
Overall : B+
Story : B+
Art : B
+ More delightful Lawrence/Holo interaction, Norah, expanded setting detail.
− Structure is a bit repetitive, overarching plot does not advance.
The battle for the fate of the world is approaching. On one side are the Dragons of Earth, or the Seven Angels, seven powerful individuals who believe that the Earth should be reborn and humanity purged. On the other are the Dragons of Heaven, or the Seven Seals, seven equally powerful men and women who believe that humanity should be spared and the current world preserved. Should the Seven Angels succeed in destroying each of the Seals, humanity will perish. Should the Seals destroy the Angels, humanity will live. Both sides are equally matched, but their seers—stargazers and dream-trippers with their fingers on the pulse of fate—foretell of an undecided one whose choice will tip the balance. His name is Kamui, and his fate is a particularly cruel one.
Review:
Often during the dark, bloody course of its running, X feels like an outlet for all that is black, ugly and despairing about CLAMP's work. The famed manga collective suffuses even their lightest fare with dark undercurrents, often in the form of tragic pasts and painful secrets. Even the sweetest of their sweet—Card Captor Sakura—had menace in its magic. But X is another beast altogether, a relentless outpouring of misfortune, tragedy and betrayal soaked in end-of-the-world doom and good old-fashioned blood.
The series follows, more or less, the fates of the Seven Seals as they carry on a running battle for the fate of humanity with the Seven Angels. That basic summation may lead to certain expectations of shonen-styled action, and on some level those expectations are not entirely misguided. Strip the series to its bones and you have a superpowered boy and his six companions pairing off against their villainous counterparts to fight in a series of battles that leads inevitably to a climactic bout between leaders. Which is basically the plot of every shonen story arc ever written. But there the similarities end. X isn't played for fun. There is no catharsis in the fights and little satisfaction in their conclusions (though plenty of top-notch action). Its outlook is unremittingly bleak, its ambitions heavy, and its plotting pointedly sadistic. In short, it is absolutely not an action-adventure lark.
Its bleakness can make the series rather difficult to stomach, particularly when it gets around to killing or emotionally flogging its more sympathetic characters—which it does with gusto after the first of CLAMP's inevitable twists about halfway through. But there's a method to the show's S&M madness. Its ambition is nothing less than the creation of a modern myth, and suffering is an integral part of its mythology. It supplies it with its iconography (crucifixion, blood) and most importantly, plays a crucial role in its vision of fate-with-a-capital-F; namely in its long and visceral demonstration that Fate can only be changed at the expense of unspeakable sacrifice. Again and again characters give up their happiness, their sanity, and their lives to alter their fates—futilely in the short term, but fruitfully in the long. In that light, the series' obsession with the evil and ugliness that the good must suffer becomes a kind of backhanded optimism: if one only gives enough, it is possible to shift the very axis of the universe. Empowering, that; though in a sick kind of way. And powerful. CLAMP's dark fin de siècle myth may not always make sense—the specifics of its mythology are easier to punch holes in than a rice paper door—but it is undeniably resonant.
None of which, however, makes it any easier to watch. That the characters are on a whole strong, memorable, and instantly likeable (Kamui excepted) doesn't help either—after all they live under constant, and excruciating, threat of death, dismemberment, madness, or some admixture thereof. They do, however, make watching compulsory. The series may be less than elegant in its plotting (it does love its bald plot devices), but it is unimpeachable in the establishment and tragic evolution of its characters and their relationships. Especially their relationships. From the doomed love of Arashi and Sorata, two Seals whose romance was foretold to bring death, to the infinitely fragile first love of teen Seal Nekoi (for a much older man on the opposite side of the Final Battle), X's relationships are delicately constructed, powerfully involving, and brutally imperiled. And therein lies the series' evil little Catch-22. As hard as it is to watch the cast and their almost pathetically vulnerable relationships being pummeled by the savage storms of fate CLAMP summons, it's torture to stop before figuring out whether they will survive. Once the characters, and their relationships, work their way into you—and work they will—you're stuck, right to the bitter end.
Madhouse top gun Yoshiaki Kawajiri, making a rare foray into television, does his best to make sure that being thus stuck isn't as dreary and unpleasant as it might otherwise be. He directs with cold precision, moving the series so smoothly and efficiently from one signature twist to the next that you hardly even feel it hit the plot holes in between. Perfectly calculated cliffhangers keep the episodes flowing one into the other while masterly execution of the plot's midway shift and the subsequent kinks in the cast's relationships obscures their essential arbitrariness. His vision of the tale is chilly and distant, yet so gorgeously composed and fluidly executed that it never feels stiff, and so dramatically accomplished that it never comes across as unfeeling.
It isn't his best work on a purely technical level, though. As carefully as he has reproduced the intense eyes, feathered lashes, and razor lines of CLAMP's designs, he can't make them move and emote quite the way he wants—courtesy of his television-sized budget no doubt—and he of necessity limits full animation to a handful of truly beautiful, and surpassingly important, scenes. Nevertheless he manages to fill the series with unforgettable images (the sleekly forbidding beauty of nighttime Tokyo, the menacing Matrix coolness of Kamui's "twin star") and powerfully realized sequences (the awakening of Shadow Kamui). His use of Naoki Sato's operatic score, and its signature composition (a rising surge of drumsdrama. All in all, it's as clean, quick and absorbing as a slow-motion, death-riven march to the Apocalypse can be.
Funimation adds nothing (and removes but a little) from Geneon/Pioneer's original releases. The extras are basically the same: fairly pedestrian interviews (15 minutes of them) with Kawajiri and the two male leads, Episode 0 (an OVA teaser for the series proper), and clean versions of the superb opener and quietly forgettable closer. The dub is also the same: same attention to casting, same fidelity in scripting, same spotty acting that sabotages a few too many of the more devastating scenes. It's worth watching only if you absolutely cannot stand Japanese, or absolutely must get your Crispin Freeman fix (his Fuma—Kamui's best friend—is its one genuine highlight).
As of this writing, it's still possible to pick up floating copies of Geneon/Pioneer's superior releases on the cheap, which makes this re-release, while an invaluable service to future generations, a less than ideal purchase for any current serious X fan. But if you're a curious newbie with bucks to blow, this economy package is a fine way to introduce yourself to one of the more ambitious and potent, if flawed, series of the early 00's.
Grade:
Overall (dub) : B
Overall (sub) : B+
Story : B
Animation : B+
Art : A
Music : B+
+ A gorgeously realized fin de siècle epic with intellectual ambitions and heartbreak to spare.
− Easier to respect than like; can take its fetish for tragedy too far; not the best plotted of CLAMP's works.
Original anime Blu-ray to ship with 7th manga volume next spring
The seventh volume of Daisuke Satō and Shoji Sato's Highschool of the Dead manga will ship next spring in a limited edition with an original anime Blu-ray Disc. The Blu-ray Disc will include the side story "Drifters of the Dead" and will run about 20 minutes long. The Blu-ray Disc edition will be limited to pre-orders only, which will be taken until February 10, 2011.
Synopsis:
With the addition of the scatterbrained Azuma and a rigorous training camp weekend with Machido rivals, Muroe High's kendo team is complete and ready to take on the upcoming tournament to get Kojiro out of hot water. Miya and Tama must face intimidating new opponents and protect what they most hold dear: for Miya, her boyfriend, and for Tama, her sense of pride. However, after a wild year of wins and losses, the kendo team must face facts. They've been in danger of dissolution for months now, and the team's association with a shocking crime has nearly made it official. It's up to Kirino to bring the team back together, but without the support of Tama, Miya, or even their advisor Kojiro, can she remind the team why they fell in love with kendo in the first place before the curtain comes crashing down?
Review:
It's a cheap trick to reduce a series down to a movie pitch line, but there is simply no better description: this is Azumanga Daioh meets A League of Their Own, down to its band of friends, and their washed-up, disgruntled manager trying to bring the team success but not trying hard enough, leaving the girls to prove themselves on their own. The one thing these stories have in common before being morphed together in this particular anime is their inability to impress on paper, minimal in scope and somewhat trivial in subject matter. Past the typed synopsis, however, you have two treasured, lighthearted classics, and Bamboo Blade takes the best of what they have to offer and adds a few adrenaline-powered battle cries to deliver something really special.
This is a series about kendo, a sport no western viewer should care about, and the series assures us, very few Japanese find appealing due to its old-fashioned rigidity and smelly equipment. Yet this is exactly what a great sports show should be like because it's not really about kendo, it's about a bunch of young girls in love with the game. These characters complement each other wonderfully, and the story stays focused on their lives as much or more than their kendo matches. You don't have to know anything about the sport to feel the tension of each match for these characters, and the series never foists it on you with monologues about rules or strategies. No, the only monologuing present might be Azuma's crippling realization that she has the world's worst stomachache mid-match or Miya's paranoia that her childhood stalker is watching her from the bleachers with camera in hand. Still, these girls keep practicing and helping each other through their ups and downs because they need the team more than they need the game.
The clearest indication of the series' break from “sports epic” tradition is in its final conflict. Sure, the last couple episodes center around a tournament and its aftermath, but by then the turmoil has passed and it is finally the team's time to shine without the stress that harangues them much earlier in the story facing tougher opponents and family crises. No, the real tumultuous conflict of this series is a moral dilemma. Can Kirino lie to the school board to keep the team together? Not even a little white lie, but a premeditated deception that involves either cutting off old teammates or taking responsibility for a crime they shouldn't be held to. As it did in the beginning, the fate of the team lies much more with Kirino than it does with Kojiro, as she begs her advisor for guidance and he has none to give her. This decision is what tears the team apart and tests the series' ability to take the audience with it into a serious problem on a much smaller scale than usual. It sure can. It works beautifully.
That being said, Bamboo Blade is a comedy first, drama far second, but the drama comes to bear much harder in this second half than it ever did in the first, and the fact that it is moving rather than schmaltzy is worth mentioning. In fact, the most humorous aside in this latter half of the series, Tamaki's adventures on the set of a Blade Bravers movie, are probably the low point of the series. This still isn't saying much, as the episodes are entertaining, key to the plot in the end, and at worst a hiccup in pacing. When it needs to be, the series is as hilarious as it always was.
The art is clean and colorful, but not particularly unique, though the characters are at least as diverse in design as they are in personality. But screenshots don't do this series' visual finesse justice; it's the snappy comedic timing and the energy of the fights that make this series so much fun to watch. Far from being a static assault of bright colors and big eyes seen in series like Lucky Star, Bamboo Blade changes up the lighting and depth of field throughout the story and gives the whole experience so much more personality and breadth than the adorable chibi designs suggest. Add to this the series' preference for orchestrated pieces and a heaping helping of taiko drums for the battles themselves and the aesthetic presentation exceeds expectations all across the board.
Also exceeding expectations is the English dub for the series. Despite being a hysterical gut-buster as Azuma, Carrie Savage is, perhaps for the first time, not the sweetest voice in the dub here. Neither is Luci Christian's lovable, tenacious Kirino. No, the character you'll most want to squeal over until rainbow syrup spews out your ears is Tamaki, played by Cherami Leigh. Being the dwarf-sized dynamo of the team, Tamaki has an unusual mix of a tiny voice with a lion's strength behind it. It's also an unusual role for Leigh, but the freshness and sincerity of her portrayal are perfect and make for a whole new brand of adorable. This is not to downplay the rest of the voice cast, of course. Every role is well-cast, every line is delivered free of awkward writing stumbles, and the end result? This is one of the best slice-of-life comedy dubs out there. Neither too cartoony or too boringly normal, it's a joy to listen to. It's almost enough to recommend the dub over the Japanese, but the two tracks are so well in sync with one another that fans' usual viewing preferences in either direction will yield great results.
No extras of note besides trailers and clean themes, but thankfully, the DVDs are not stacked in this set as in the previous one, but separated via plastic pop-out flaps as they should be.
The show, naturally, isn't perfect; there are some detriments to Bamboo Blade. Like its lead character, it's little and unassuming. It's not the high-stakes kind of sports epic where a powerhouse team goes to nationals and drama ensues. The cast of Bamboo Blade spends much of their adventure on a losing streak, and the greatest threat is always posed by the slimy politics within the board of education. That doesn't mean that this tiny treasure doesn't pack a wallop to the gut and the funny bone in more unique ways, however, and that's all that matters. This is no great anime classic, but it is a wonderful little story that deserves all the glow that can be dished out for what it has to give.
Grade:
Overall (dub) : B+
Overall (sub) : B+
Story : B+
Animation : B+
Art : B
Music : B
+ Heart-warming, funny, lovable characters that are more the focus than the sport
− Slightly predictable, simple, and silly
Synopsis:
Whenever Takeru asked her mother why she was born with a boy's name, her mother always told her: "Because girls grow up to become demons." But little did Takeru know just how true that was—for deep within the temple where she lives lies a terrible secret, a demonic weapon called the Witchblade that consumes its bearer with bloodlust. Now in high school, Takeru's life is torn apart when demons come after her, her family, and her friends. Only by taking on the powers of the Witchblade can she hope to kill the demons, but will the weapon's violent nature turn Takeru into a monster herself? With only her friend Kou to protect her, Takeru must stop the demon invasion, while also uncovering a shocking conspiracy as to why the demons were awakened in the first place.
Review:
If a manga omnibus costs the same as buying the volumes individually, is it still worth buying? That may be the only deep philosophical question to come out of Witchblade: Takeru, which is heavy on the boobs and bloodshed but offers little in the way of story. Oh, sure, there are events that lead to other events that eventually culminate in one big final event, but swap it with any other action-adventure-supernatural plotline and nobody would notice the difference. The only unique trait of this short series, it seems, is its basis on an American comic franchise—as opposed to other Japanese manga where the authors have to come up with their uninspired dreck all by themselves. As we learn from these 400-odd pages, gratuitous sex and violence is indeed a universal language.
If there is anything this title deserves praise for, it's for at least getting the basis of the Witchblade mythos correct. Yes, there is a fearsome supernatural weapon that has granted its power to certain women throughout the course of history. And that's about the point where this series veers off from the original, spewing clichés left and right and hoping that the combination of grotesquerie and softcore erotica will distract readers from its storywise deficiencies. Surely no one will be surprised to learn that the newest bearer of the Witchblade is a stereotypical Japanese schoolgirl, and that her first mission is to fend off the demons threatening her family, and that her very devoted platonic male friend Kou suddenly finds himself in a crisis of conscience because he may have to kill her to save her. Please, feel free to point out if there's anything here that isn't copied from dozens of other action-adventure demon-hunting stories. No? Didn't think so.
Maybe there is a reason for compiling this two-part series into a single volume, though, because those who would have given up after Volume 1 may be surprised to find that Volume 2 brings in a new layer of story. The second half reveals that Takeru's kinship with the Witchblade is all part of a terrible family secret, which connects to a shocking international conspiracy, and thanks to this improbable turn of events she gets to blow up an aircraft carrier or two in the finale. In other words, it's not so much a new layer of story as it is a new layer of clichés, and ultimately, the real impetus for finishing the series is not because the story gets better, but because you're already halfway there and you might as well see it to the bitter end. After all, what's another 20 to 30 minutes of preposterous demon battles and even more preposterous plot twists?
Still, nothing can be as preposterous as the artwork in this series, which showcases the very worst excesses of "mature" comics—mature in the sense of "make sure your parents don't see this." Takeru's full Witchblade armor is a pseudo-pornographic, gravity-defying joke, the monsters she fights against are about as memorable as doing one's daily chores, and even during the series' more mundane moments, it seems that the female characters can't help but expose their underwear in ridiculously contrived positions. If there's anything the action scenes are notable for, it's the high level of bloodshed and gruesomeness, but cheap shock tactics can't cover up the obvious shortcomings in pacing and layout: the fights are always a mess, it's impossible to tell who's piercing whom in the gut, and some of the most climactic scenes fizzle out due to poor planning. It's a shame to see Kou's shining heroic moment reduced to one very confusing panel because they suddenly have to wrap up the series within the next five pages.
This lack of visual sophistication is matched only by the dialogue, which relies on pretentious supernatural-fantasy babble to explain what's going on, and then reduces to formulaic good-versus-evil one-liners during the fight scenes. Even worse are some of the speaking mannerisms assigned to certain characters, like the American military leader who shows up in the second half. (Here's a tip: if you have to come up with a weird speech pattern to define a character, the character isn't well-defined enough.) And yet, with such generic and predictable dialogue, the translation team still manages to let a couple of typos sneak past. At least they're thorough enough to explain Japanese honorifics in the footnotes, as well as translating the various signs and sound effects on each page, but clearly language is not a major concern when the violence speaks for itself.
The real question about Witchblade: Takeru is not whether it's worth getting a two-volume omnibus that costs the same as both volumes individually, but whether it's worth getting at all. Let's say you buy Volume 1 and decide that the series is terrible—in that situation, you've only lost ten dollars. On the other hand, this omnibus is twenty dollars spent on gratuitous fanservice and violence, juvenile shock imagery, and a plot cobbled together from the deformed limbs of other action-supernatural potboilers. For that kind of money, one might as well buy the real American Witchblade, or even the Witchblade anime, which at least offers polished, well-produced fanservice and violence. In the end, there's only one reason to pick up this omnibus: because the store had Volume 1 in stock but not Volume 2, or vice versa. And that still makes more sense than most of what happens in this book.
Grade:
Overall : D
Story : D
Art : C-
+ It's only two volumes long, thankfully. And the second half is a little better than the first.
− Stinks up the Witchblade franchise with stereotypical characters, a generic action-supernatural plotline, and tawdry boobs-blades-and-blood artwork.
