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Series: Vampire Knight Guilty – Part 3 – Episodes 8-10
UK Release date: 27th June 2011
Distributor: Manga
Certificate: 12
Running time: 72 mins
Director: Kiyoko Sayama
Genre: Anime
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Japan
Language: Japanese
Review by: Lewis Field
Hot on the heels of volume two, episodes eight to ten of Kiyoko Sayama’s shōjo anime Vampire Knight Guilty is released. Far from the brooding romanticism of vampire folklore, get set to witness the series’ darkest and most action packed episodes yet, as the end is nigh and it is time to make a choice - whether human or vampire, it’s kill or be killed.
The volume opens with the revelation that Yuki is in fact a pureblood vampire of the Kuran family and younger sister to Kaname. Known now as the pureblood princess, Yuki’s fragmented past is finally revealed to the disbelief of Zero. Daughter to Haruka and Juri, she is the last pureblood descendent of the Kuran lineage and therefore a prize bounty for those who wish to exploit her.
Kaname and Ichiru decide to awaken Rido from his eternal slumber as a means to end his reign of terror and finally bring peace to the Kuran family. However, Rido’s soul is rampaging the school grounds in Senri’s body for the rare blood of Yuki.
Principal Kaien Cross reawakens his legendary vampire hunter skills and, along with the Night Class and Yagari, they set about protecting the school from the invasive forces of the Vampire Council, the Senate, and Rido’s vampire slaves, who will do anything in their power to capture and manipulate Yuki, Zero and Kaname…
The love triangle that has dominated the series now takes on a darker tone. Zero is now faced with the nightmarish vision of Yuki’s true nature as a pureblood vampire and his duty as a vampire hunter. His memories of her humanity are now nothing more than just that, memories. The woman he had shown such adoration for is now the one creature he despises. As for his relationship with Kaname, we learn in episode ten that Zero has been nothing more than his pawn. One and a half parts vampire hunter, transformed by a pureblood and now with the power of Kuran running through his veins, he has become the ultimate vampire with the strength and abilities to kill Rido as Kaname’s puppet.
The character of Yuki has been somewhat scrutinized in previous reviews due to her being extremely one-dimensional. Her purpose on the most part has been to add the mysterious element to the series, with her inability to piece together her fractured memories. This, teamed with her lovesick teenager routine, really started to irritate. Her transformation from a cutesy high school girl to a bloodthirsty monster is delivered with a poignancy that boosts the series and fleshes out the tired clichés.
Episode eight shows her awakening as a pureblood vampire, and through coherent flashbacks, we witness her mother’s spell that sealed Yuki’s memories and transformed her into a human to protect her from the Senate and Rido, some ten years past. Her metamorphosis is captured stylishly, as contrasting lights soak her nude body and she shivers and recoils in pain. Rather than the empty stares, her eyes now glow with bloodlust, signaling a welcome change to her characterization.
Diverting away from the intricate love triangle, Sayama subverts the romanticism of previous episodes in favour of a far more threatening tone. Yuki’s awakening as the pureblood princess is the foundation that sets about displacing the fragile relationships between rival vampire/human factions. Yuki is now at the mercy of the vampire world. The once protected Cross Academy is no longer safe and is set to become a battleground.
This is perhaps the first set of episodes that really kicks the action up a gear; far from establishing characters and relationships, these episodes poignantly intensify the tension and threatening atmosphere that has been waiting to be unleashed. Even the overly processed romance of the love triangle is fizzled out in favour of setting characters against one another. When Yuki visits Zero for the first time after her transformation, she stops at his door and senses that he is pointing bloody rose directly at her, whilst condemning her as an arrogant pureblood. She bluntly states that the human Yuki he once knew is now gone, as the vampire Yuki completely devoured her.
Far from the love torn brooding, Sayama finally allows his characters to physically express their inner torments. Characters do not simply stare blankly, cry and sulk behind closed doors about the ‘what ifs’. It becomes clear that we are nearing the crescendo of the series and the need for the characters relationships to reach that same climactic point.
Zero’s descent into level-E status has been his character’s main subtext. The fact Yuki’s pure vampire blood now runs through his veins alongside Kaname’s is extremely interesting; the two people he has had such a complex relationships with now haunt his very existence, causing his vampirism to become extremely unpredictable. The love triangle is severed, with Yuki realising she was born to wed her brother Kaname, which subjects the viewer to an uncomfortable series of incestual biting and licking, which is, on the most part, slightly creepy.
The mysticism of the series has now faded with characters objectives brought to the forefront of the narrative. We traverse from mystery to unpredictability with the main protagonists metamorphoses and the knock on effect this has not only to each other but on the wider scale to individuals, in both the human and vampiric worlds.
Episodes eight to ten finally deliver on the series’ title. We witness the violence and bloodshed one would expect from a series titled Vampire Knight. Members of the Night Class are finally given some substance away from their good looks and ‘cool’ demeanour. Servants of Rido attack the school in an effort to free their master, and it becomes the duty of the Night Class to protect the academy. There are several action sequences and the series is given a supernatural edge, depicting vampires as beings with abilities to control mystical powers - Yuki’s trauma at her new found bloodlust causes the walls of her room to crack and the windows to shatter.
This is what viewers have been waiting for; the inherent danger and supernatural forces build tension as the vampire’s violent nature is thrust into the frame with no signs of stopping - this is certainly what the last section of a series needs.
It is obvious that we are reaching the end of the series with loose ends being tied, and questions being answered rather than cleverly avoided. The series does still have its flaws, but the grating love triangle is finally put aside and the episodes stay in the now rather than relying heavily upon past monologues and flashback. With some artsy and abstract imagery and an interesting supernatural edge, teamed with a haunting score of strings, piano keys and chorus, it begs the question, why leave it all to the last minute? LF
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Series: Lucky Star: Complete Collection
UK Release date: 2nd May 2011
Distributor: Beez
Certificate: 15
Running time: 645 mins
Director: Yutaka Yamamoto & Yasuhiro Takemoto
Genre: Anime
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Japan
Language: Japanese
Review by: Lewis Field
Based upon Kagami Yoshimizu’s satirical 4-koma (four panel) manga, Yukata Yamamoto’s animated adaptation of Lucky Star is part sketch show, part comic strip with a whole lot to say about Japanese pop culture. An anime primarily about anime, we join four schoolgirls during their 11th grade term at Ryõõ High School.
Lucky Star is a slice of life comedy following four friends, Konata, Tsukasa, Kagami and Miyuki through the trials and tribulations of high school…well sort of, if you consider how to eat a chocolate cornet strenuous?
Konata Izumi is a self-professed otaku, and she and her three friends, Tsukasa, Kagami and Miyuki enjoy nothing more than eating, cooking, hanging out and, of course, chatting about all the important things in life – i.e. everything! And so the sporadic conversing begins…
The series itself is really about…well, not much at all, but that is definitely one of its main appeals. Lucky Star is a curious little gem of a series, focusing quite literally on the normalcy of daily situations, random girly conversations and seemingly mundane observations. A typical episode consists of a simple event/occurrence/discussion and bounces backwards and forwards, like a sketch show with a common theme. In episode one, Konata and Tsukasa are eating lunch and ask how one is supposed to eat various sweet snacks. The episode later returns to the same conversation, but now introduces Miyuki into the equation. Rather than a hindrance, the quick cuts in time and setting reflect the overall spontaneity of the series, and the animation makes each scene feel like a picture window of a comic book.
It is the simplistic notion of question and answer that fuels most of the conversation in the series; the randomness of the topics, although edging on futility, adds a true sense of realism. We are watching the daily banter of high school girls and, like most of us, they talk about rubbish. It’s what friends do - it is just something we rarely see. So often do anime series have an artificiality regarding character relationships, with dialogue coming across as over articulated nonsense, but Lucky Star breaks this habit and forefronts their innocuous conversing as far more genuine expression of questioning the ordinary – the difference between a cold and the flu, the myths surrounding twins, returns to the dentist and getting sleepy on the bus.
Being a series that is episodic in nature, there is no real sense of continuity binding one episode to the next, meaning that each episode stands alone, rather than relying upon a central theme running through the series. When the series takes time out away from the sporadic chit-chat of the girls and focuses on the dynamics of their friendship group, and their network of other friends and family, the show impresses in its telling of single story threads. Far from the humour and satire, these stories (including beach trips and an invitation to witness Kagami’s family at home) do well in fleshing out the characters and providing the well needed subtext missing from earlier episodes.
The show's humour is created through the spoofing of J-pop culture; Konata’s love of otaku is constantly reiterated, as she subconsciously relates her life experiences to anime and gaming to the annoyance of Kagami - she became friends with Tsukasa as a result of a Street Fighter-esque battle. This is perhaps the show's biggest mistake. The humour is relatable to an extent, as we have all seen or at least heard of the films, games and TV shows Konata speaks of, yet the premise of the comedy is that it relies heavily upon the viewer being as fanatical about anime as she is – half the time, the references and quirky one-liners fall flat as you have not seen the latest episode of Full Metal Panic! At the same time, the humour is delivered in such a way that it avoids the characters deliberately offending the genre’s fan base; instead the series becomes part of that same joke. The supplementary ‘Lucky Channel’ segment at the end of each episode features a darker more sadistic approach to satirising J-pop icons through its bipolar host Akira Kogami, and comedy hotbox Minoru Shiraishi.
The series does not try to be anything more than what it is: a light-hearted tale of girls growing up. The humour is well placed and innocently sweet (Tsukasa believes that a sore throat is due to the fact that you breathe in from your mouth). In one episode, the girls exit from a physical exam and each (in voiceover) recounts their experience: for Konata, it’s that she’s still short; for Tsukasa, it’s that she was wearing her animal print underwear; Kagami convinces herself that her weight gain is due to the under-wiring of her bra; Miyuki simply exits smiling. The difference in their characters is poignantly addressed throughout in a very comedic side-by-side fashion that further depicts the obvious archetypes each embodies.
Lucky Star does manage to satisfy the cute, girly humour one would expect a series revolving around schoolgirls to contain. The characters are fantastically moe`, and it is obvious they have been tailored to such extensive lengths to represent fan-appealing traits - their individual personas, bubblegum-coloured hair, large eyes and quirky features all become part of the series’ running joke about anime and J-pop fandom.
Part parody, part caricature, their characterisation covers all aspects of the anime spectrum. Konata is the boyish otaku - Kagami her direct opposite; the hot-headed and emotional tsundere. The two of them are often seen arguing with one another at the fact Konata doesn’t study and loves video games. Then there is Kagami’s twin sister, the cute airhead Tsukasa, a dojikko; and the polite, walking encyclopaedia Miyuki, a typical meganekko, ironically with a fear of contact lenses. At times, the dynamics of their friendship comes across as odd. They seem a lot more infantile and prudish than their age group would suggest; they argue about studying and hobbies rather than the hormone fuelled disputes one would expect from 16-18 year olds - perhaps a deliberate intention to please and adhere to a specific audience, it is somewhat faulted and just doesn’t seem authentic, compared to their random, naturalistic banter.
At times, the random talk does irritate, and this is certainly not a series for anyone after a serious anime feature. With its simple art direction and quirky trumpet sound effects, the series is quite clearly there to be laughed at. Away from trying too hard to be funny, the show instead immerses itself in the humour it creates - each episode begins with the title ‘Kagami Yoshimizu Theater’, as each of the girls talk about getting on with the show, a subtle suggestion that the four of them are recounting their school years through film alongside the audience.
A show of incredible simplicity and charm, Lucky Star manages with a plot-less narrative to captivate from the first episode and continues with an OVA supplement to the series. With organic characters and a ton of random conversations, it really is a slice of good-natured humour. A collection of observation and pop culture later, the series never deviates from its initial purpose: to poke fun at and satirise the very constructs of anime, whilst never being afraid to be part of the joke. LF
Series: Vampire Knight Guilty: Part 1 – Episodes 1-4
UK Release date: 4th April 2011
Distributor: Manga
Certificate: 12
Running time: 96 mins
Director: Kiyoko Sayama
Starring: Yui Horie, Mamoru Miyano, Susumu Chiba, Jun Fukuyama, Hozumi Gôda
Genre: Anime
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Japan
Language: Japanese
Matsuri Hino’s dark shoujo manga, Vampire Knight Guilty returns to our screens for a second outing, with long-term director Kiyoko Sayama at its helm. Retaining its mysticism, Vampire Knight Guilty opens with the instability and uneasiness left as a result of the tragedy at the end of series one.
We return to Cross Academy, an institution secretly divided into Day and Night classes of humans and vampires, respectively. It is up to the main protagonists, Yuki and Zero to maintain balance and protect the human populous from the insatiable thirst of the vampires.
Episodes 1 to 4 see the return of Zero to the academy after his shadowy disappearance at the end of season one. His return is shrouded in doubt and confusion and unsettles the love triangle between himself, Yuki and pure-blood vampire Kaname.
This series continues to delve into the mysterious pasts of both Yuki and Zero whilst shedding light onto the childhood of Kaname. Zero continues to contemplate his identity as he struggles to cope with his deteriorating transformation into vampirism, and the effect this has on his relationship with Yuki and his rivalry with Kaname…
The series retains its sense of dark, brooding gothicism, but in a far more contrived way. The constant barrage of imagery from the title and end credits is sickeningly clichéd. The sequences featuring blood-soaked roses, butterflies, glistening spiders webs and shadowy forests works clearly as a means to heighten the romanticism of vampirism. And to those watching the series after a certain vampire franchise will immediately see its similarities with the twilight fanaticism of recent years (however, Vampire Knight was first to establish the vampire/human romance story). From the credits alone, Vampire Knight Guilty is a fangirl’s dream series of handsome, brooding vampires and lovesick schoolgirls.
The cast of the original series return, some with more relevance than in the previous season. In episode one, the Vampire Council invade the school grounds to kill Zero for murdering the pure-blood Shizuka. They finally emerge as a powerful entity after remaining shadowed through much of the first season. The series does well at integrating a huge cast of protagonists and supporting characters, including the return of Ichiru, Zero’s twin brother. It just begs the question will these individuals get enough screen-time for them to be relevant to the overall story?
Yuki’s character is yet again searching for the answers to her blurred past, as she tries to piece together her feelings for both Zero and Kaname. This series pushes the mystery surrounding her character up a notch, as her flashbacks and visions intensify in episode four – it would seem she has a much closer connection to vampirism than first thought. Her research in the Hunter Association’s records end in the book bursting into flames - it seems someone or something doesn’t want her to remember her past. She retains her cutesy and bashful personality, but with far fewer comedic scenes her sudden anime gimmicks seem out of place for the mood that is set up around her. As for the bishonen characters of Zero and Kaname, they seem to hold greater depth, perhaps due to the fact they can remember their tormented pasts. Kaname’s stoic and cool demeanor is a fresh outlook on the vampire mythos, whereas Zero’s moody ‘emo’, comes across annoying rather than convincing as he wanders from scene to scene moping like a spoilt teenager.
The series has an interesting plot point in that both humans and vampires inhabit Cross Academy, but this potentially intriguing concept is scarpered before it even begins. The Day Class students, who we are introduced to at the start of episode one and the end of episode two, are hormonal teenagers infatuated with the elite Night Class. The animation between the two factions is also interesting here, whilst the Day Class students all have the same chibi facial expression and brunette hair, the students of the Night Class are beautifully drawn, each with his/her own particular style. Similarly, they are the only students, apart from Yuki and Zero, to be seen outside of the school grounds. The Night Class’ pretentious cliché at being the cool, good-looking crowd feels more American high school rather than the mysterious ethos the series establishes around vampire folklore.
Repression becomes the key word in understanding the love-triangle between the three leading characters. The romantic scenes are poorly executed and come off as corny attempts in trying to establish the vampire as a brooding individual who would rather protect the female’s humanity rather than exploit her sexually. After seeing the hormone-fuelled actions of licking necks and heavy breathing and grunting across several episodes, it becomes clear that Vampire Knight Guilty is trying to build some kind of romantic tension at an achingly slow level that becomes more of a hindrance than a satisfying narrative choice. Instead of accepting this choice, one is yelling at the screen to get over your temptation and just bite her! With hints of homoeroticism thrown in for good measure, Vampire Knight Guilty plays to fangirl ideology, which is completely fine for fans of the genre but for a fan of anime new to this particular sort of series, it plays out like a poor attempt to flesh out a now tiresome genre.
Rather than building tension, the love-triangle becomes tedious at the lack of action between the three of them - the action is subconscious in that it never reaches physical expression. This is certainly not directed at their relationships sexually but in general; they seem to lack the ability of conversing and telling each other how they truly feel, instead it becomes a series of dull facial expressions and over-articulated inner monologues recounting that characters repressed emotions.
The start to this series does have its redeeming features, far from rushing through the narrative, the series does not falter in the details. The back-stories and previous situations are integrated well through flashbacks, (although you do feel like you are having them pummeled into you) and the series does well to make sure no stone is left unturned, whilst maintaining the overall mystery of the story.
The animation is good, although it does rely heavily upon anime clichés; far too many times do chibi-esque facial expressions and mannerisms occur that don’t quite fit. This is fine for fans of anime, but a little childish for those expecting to watch a more adult-appropriate series. Aside from the annoying opening theme, the music is surprisingly well thought out, providing the right amount of atmosphere and mystery to help the narrative along. The same goes for the well placed sound effects that enrich and enhance the mood.
Episodes 1-4 open with the uncertainty left by the events of the previous series, and opens this series out with premises of the dark mysteriousness that made the show successful in the first place. It seems as Yuki’s past memories intensify, so too do the audience’s questions. Who is the mysterious man, the Vampire Senate call lord in episode four? What is the story behind the ‘Cursed Twins’? How is Yuki connected? For each the slight answers these initial episodes give, the series throws another five back at you. It is what guides the series and obviously enthralls the viewer, although at times achingly slow and drab. The romance is there, the action is there, the characters are there, all orchestrated within an interesting narrative, it is just a shame that it all seems a bit complacent and lackluster. However, the series has time to develop and hopefully bring about an impressive and well-executed conclusion. LF
Film: Spiderhole
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 21st March 2011
Distributor: Soda
Certificate: 18
Running time: 82 mins
Director: Daniel Simpson
Starring: Amy Noble, Emma Griffiths Malin, George Maguire, John Regan, Rueben-Henry Biggs
Genre: Horror
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Republic of Ireland
Language: English
Writer/director Daniel Simpson’s low-budget shock horror feature brings a whole new meaning to the term breaking and entering. A nightmarish vision of fear and darkness, Simpson has created a feature of claustrophobic proportions. A message to all students out there looking for accommodation: take note!
Spiderhole focuses on four art students: Molly, Zoe, Luke and Toby (Emma Griffiths Malin, Amy Noble, George Maguire and Reuben-Henry Biggs) who are searching for a new place to stay for their next term. The group decide the best way to do this on a student budget is to become squatters, as its “unlawful not illegal,” and a perfect opportunity to party, smoke ‘spliffs’ and have sex. With the aid of their bohemian camper van, the foursome go in search of their new home. After a few failed break-ins and impenetrable properties, they stop outside an impressive mansion in an upmarket district of West London and decide to break in.
The four students soon realise the error of their ways as events take a dark turn. The house they believed to be empty seems to be home to a rather angry tenant, an individual who is hell-bent on punishing them through a host of sickeningly demented games. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth…
The house is generally creepy with its dilapidated interior, long winding corridors and a labyrinth of hidden rooms. Credence must go to the set designer as the house’s dank and gloomy atmosphere really does take the viewer out of their comfort zone. It is as if we are a million miles away from the swanky West London streets and we now inhabit an alternate reality. The four students unpack their belongings and set up a small fire in the living room to unwind before they explore the rest of the house in the morning. In typical haunted house fashion, there are strange noises coming from the first floor, but they are immediately dismissed as creaking pipes by Toby.
The supernatural tone that the film initially holds is disposed of quickly, when the group awaken and realise that they have been drugged and locked inside the building, with the doors and windows covered and bolted from the inside by large metal barriers. As the panic sets in, the group of friends discover more haunting remnants of previous visitors including blood-stains, photographs and scratch marks on the walls. The impending claustrophobia is disturbingly brought to life through Simpson’s camera work. Everything from the long, lingering shots of the house interior to the frantic cuts between the characters as the panic sets in are masterfully executed, and teamed with creepy sound effects and a good score providing enough tension and atmosphere throughout. The lighting is obscure and, much like the characters, we find ourselves in a very dark and unsettling place.
With the supernatural tone subsided, the true nature of the film is exposed – one of brutal, sexualised violence. The gore is somewhat grotesque and you find yourself wincing away from the bodily mutilations. It takes on a very Saw-esque tone relied heavily upon with this idea of games and torture, all encompassed within a medical/surgical framework (the sadistic captor has a host of surgical tools and a waiting room before his own personal operating theatre). The effects are somewhat unimpressive with bodily expenditures looking like pieces of fake rubber, but this hardly deters from the overall shock factor. It is undeniably deplorable and barbaric, but nothing entirely original. The ‘torture porn’ genre is not so much a dying genre, rather one that has run its course through a whole host of successful films, including the Saw franchise and The Devil’s Rejects. The impression here is that the gore is intended to demonstrate depravity, rather than provide any new outlets to depict the genre.
The cast is made up of relatively unknown British actors. The cliché’s are there but in moderation. The four main characters of Molly, Zoe, Toby and Luke are all performed extremely well given the cast’s inexperience in feature films. Yes, there are some improvements that could be made with the Brit slang script, but the actors work with what they have. They each play their part with nerve shredding realism; you watch them and empathise – you strangely feel that that is the way you would behave in a similar situation – from anger to fear to panic and back again. The sudden change in tone and mood trigger’s a very human response, something the four actors achieve, that they are losing hope. The claustrophobic setting of the house fuels their fear, which turns into anger at one another as they try and pass the blame and work out their next move. The film highlights physical violence but also quite smartly the mental threat, and the damaging nature of fear, something that is far more interesting to watch. John Regan’s Captor is good, providing a realistic and sadistic killer, far from the excessive caricature nature of say Freddy Krueger or Jigsaw, yet his motives are weak at best.
The only criticism is that we don’t get enough time to truly feel for their plight, as the characters are thrown into the action and are fighting for their lives within the first fifteen minutes. Although a deliberate choice made by the director to create a feature about pace, survival and indeed gore, the decision somewhat falls short - we just don’t know enough about the characters to really care for them. We get odd references, like the first scene showing Molly in a doctor’s office being told she has a case of heartburn, to a very slight nod towards Toby’s welding experience –hardly enough to create a detailed opinion on a character.
Budget clearly isn’t everything; Simpson has created a feature free from overtly obvious CGI effects and opted for a more subtle approach. The film’s naturalistic lighting and ominous score provides a very gut-wrenching realism. And although the scares are substituted for blood and guts, it is still a very uncomfortable watch. Yes, you know exactly what is going to happen, but nevertheless the film delves into the psychological side of fear and terror that stands up against the depraved amounts of blood and guts and offers 80 minutes of nail-biting viewing. Squatters beware. LF
Film: Ghost In The Shell
Release date: 28th February 2000
Certificate: 15
Running time: 111 mins
Director: Mamoru Oshii
Starring: Atsuko Tanaka, Akio Ôtsuka, Tamio Ôki, Iemasa Kayumi, Kôichi Yamadera
Genre: Anime
Studio: Manga
Format: DVD
Country: Japan/USA
Rarely does an animated film have what it takes to stand up against the masses, and the opportunity to be considered as a breakthrough feature. Yet there is one such film that possesses such an intelligence and beauty in both its plot and cinematography, that it easily rivals its live-action counterparts, whilst cementing its precedence as a forerunner in its own genre. Japanese director Mamoru Oshii’s dark, yet emotive cyberpunk anime Ghost In The Shell explores what it means to be human in an age of technological domination.
Based on Shirow Masamune’s popular manga, Ghost In The Shell takes place in 2029 against the neon embedded backdrop of the Hong Kong cityscape. In this technologically advanced future, humans are able to cybernetically augment and upgrade their bodies, and the world is connected by a hugely vast and complex electronic mainframe - one that governs the state and administers the various sectors to maintain the prosperity of the people. One of these sectors, Section 9, is the law-enforcing security firm, in which our heroine Major Motoko Kusanagi and her partners Batou and Togusa are on an undercover mission to infiltrate an elite hacker known only as The Puppet Master.
The film is centred around Kusanagi, and through her we are introduced to the deep philosophical nature that underlies the film, whether the human form can sustain its humanity and identity when only organic brain matter, known to hold a person’s ‘ghost’ (soul) remains within the metal ‘shell’ of their cyborg body. Kusanagi whose ‘birth’ we witness at the beginning of the film even questions whether she has a ghost, believing her memories and experiences are nothing more than programmable data implanted into her neural system.
Her doubts set about asking the same question to the audience watching, how long will it be until we no longer have to think for ourselves? How long until we are mere puppets trapped in the complex web of data and programmable information? Asking questions with no definitive answer, the film really is so much more than just another animation…
Oshii’s film is full of references towards identity, and indeed the fragmentation and contemplation of one’s own human existence. Kusanagi’s inability, or rather fractured sense of being is depicted through a series of subdued, contemplative scenes that reach out and pull you in. At times, it seems difficult, almost impossible to remember that you are watching an animated feature. The film is about transcending into something more than your physical being, and it is the dualisms between The Puppet Master and Kusanagi that are most prolific.
The Puppet Master is in essence a machine that has reached a level of awareness and consciousness far above the limitations of software and programming, yet Kusanagi, a human with machine enhancements, questions whether this sentience can remain inside a cyborg body. The Puppet Master’s proposal of a ‘marriage’ between himself and Kusanagi towards the end of the film serves to imply the crosshatching between the physical limitations of the body to the liberation of the mind. Their merging opens up the possibilities of surpassing the faults in both of their organic and machine makeup/programming to create a new species of life inside the ‘net’ - a reference not only to the sea of living data, but rather the absolute supremacy of a divine maker.
Often hailed as the film to define a genre, Ghost In The Shell is one of the first anime features to incorporate CGI graphics alongside realistic animation. The result is a bifurcation in setting, a cleverly constructed parallelism between the real world and ‘the net’ – the two realms which run analogously throughout the film. The use of colour is used perfectly, highlighting the cyberpunk aesthetic of ‘high tech, low life’, from the dark, gritty streets, to the sanitized and clinical interior of the Section 9 headquarters. A lot of thought has been put in to create a film with superb attention to detail, and therefore you are guaranteed a film of quality, rather than excess.
The film’s attractive visuals are teamed by its attentiveness to sound, in particular the haunting female choir. When Kusanagi traverses the city waterways, the music becomes a thematic commentary as Oshii’s images of mannequins, neon signs and extreme close ups of Kusanagi’s face fill the screen. The poetic poignancy of the combined elements is unbearably apparent, as we are bluntly asked the question of what it means to be human in a world at the brink of information overload.
Although tagged as an action film, there are only two or three major action sequences throughout its short running time. The film’s precedence is far more in its philosophical constructs. On occasions, the film falls back to the inevitable conventions of naked girls with guns seen in so many anime features, but the intelligence in tone and narration clearly extinguishes any frustration one may have.
The contemplative tone that runs throughout the narrative interjects even the most fast-paced action scenes – Kusanagi’s battle with a giant mecha-inspired tank is one such example. Being an opponent with superior weaponry, speed and technology, it would seem that Kusanagi would be no match; however, after a lengthy sequence of acrobatics, and a barrage of gunfire, we see the answer to Kusanagi’s question concerning her humanity. The scene is extremely powerful - as her nude cyborg body begins to fail, her synthetic skin stretches and her limbs tear out of place revealing the inner wires, cogs and motors of her body. The overtly human essence behind her stubbornness to give in depicts the true power of her human emotion as she defies the limits of her cyborg body, revealing the power of the ghost verses the restrictions of the shell.
One of the most commendable points is the film’s ethos, and indeed its relevance to our modern day dependency to technology. The events we witness on screen seem scarily plausible if not already probable. The idea behind the cyborg is that it is organic matter augmented by mechanical components; therefore prosthetic limbs and pacemakers are in ways steps to cyborgization. For all that the film conceptual refers, there are an abundance of new questions and possibilities for us to explore within our own technologically obsessed society.
The theory surrounding the cyborg is fascinating, and the film expertly develops upon both postmodern and feminist theory concerning the body, gender and identity. The film’s detailed touches of colour, animation and music exemplify the quality of the feature, and cement the philosophical ideas concerning the narrative into an even more believable and emphatic response. For fans and newcomers to anime alike, Ghost In The Shell is definitely one not to miss. LF
