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Series: Durarara!! Vol. 3
UK Release date: 13th June 2011
Distributor: Beez
Certificate: 15
Director: Takahiro Omori
Genre: Anime
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Japan
Language: Japanese
Review by: Alice Instone-Brewer
The recently released third volume of Durarara!! continues the anime adaptation of the first three novels in Ryohgo Narita’s light novel series. Brought to us by the team behind the famous Baccano!, and dealing with everything from shy students to city gangs and the supernatural, Durarara!! is a character-driven series of similar tone to the one that made Baccano! so popular, and has already gathered itself a loyal fan base.
The series as a whole follows seemingly shy country teenager Mikado Ryugamine after he moves to the “Big City” in search of excitement. Despite his shy appearance, his greatest fear is living an ordinary life – a fear that drives his often dangerous actions. The “Big City”, in this case, is Ikebukuro, Tokyo. Once there, he crosses paths with his confident and streetwise childhood friend, Masaomi, who takes him under his wing.
The plot centres around an internet-based city gang called the Dollars and their rivalry with the Yellow Scarves - a feud that is made worse by repeated attacks from a mysterious Slasher, who the Yellow Scarves claim works for the Dollars. On top of this, various characters possess elements of the supernatural. The most notable of these is Celty Sturluson, an Irish Dullahan (headless horseman) who travels disguised as a biker whilst she searches for her lost head. Like the rest of the characters, she becomes deeply involved in the gang war.
Though Mikado is technically the main character of the series, equal time is given to everyone, developing each character’s plotline as they intermingle and complicate each other’s lives. Episodes are told from different characters’ points of view through a Noir-esque narration. In volume three, which starts on episode 18 (‘Life And Death Are Up To Fate’), we pick up with Mikado and Masaomi as they walk Anri - the curvy completion to their trio - from hospital after her recovery. The episode hooks people straight into the third volume DVD with some revealing flashbacks for Masaomi and his history with a girl named Saki. The following episodes continue to deliver shocking revelations to and about the characters, causing their situations to become more and more volatile and unstable as the action heads towards the season’s life-or-death climax in episode 25, ‘World Peace’…
Durarara!! is certainly an anime with style and class. From the artwork to the scripting to the music, there is a bluesy, moody feel to the series. A laymen’s stereotype of the anime art-form might be of something loud, fast paced and highly saturated; this couldn’t be further from the truth here. This show is quiet, subdued, shadowy; all as Noir as its narrations. The acting communicates the tone perfectly; dialogue is often spoken in a quiet murmur, subtly tinged with either angst or menace, and often effortlessly cool. Of course, it wouldn’t be anime without irate and emphatic outbursts, but if you were to leave this DVD running in the background of your home, the tone of the voices, accompanied by the music, would often conjure up very smoky, Raymond Chandler inspired images.
Telling the story from changing points of view was a perfect choice for this style of show. It develops the plot slowly, yet to a rich effect. In a series where everyone has secrets and there is no clear-cut right and wrong, seeing the events from every angle allows us a privileged peak into characters’ hidden motives. We’re the only people that know what’s really going on. Coming at the series from this all-seeing perspective shows the audience just how complicated the web of secrecy has become. We can see the misunderstandings and the moral dilemmas for what they are. This is an advantageous way to enjoy a plot about gangs and trickery, but also the complexities of the human relationships within it - be they good or bad. If you can tolerate the pacing, you get more out of the show for it, much like the slower, character-driven early days of films and television.
Izaya Orihara buys and sells information, and his influence can be found behind many of the important plot developments. Like the audience, he too sits in a position of power, overlooking the events with more knowledge than the other characters – mere pawns, as he sees them, running around as he manipulates them. He is also the king of the charismatic delivery mentioned earlier, thanks to the voice of Hiroshi Kamiya. Every show needs a morally grey character with menace and charisma for us to harbour a guilty love for, and Orihara fulfils that requirement here. He seems to torture and control people for the sheer love of it, though his grand goal is to cause a full-out war in the city in order to wake Celty’s sleeping head.
In the volume’s first episode, his love of manipulation is symbolically demonstrated as he schemes hunched over Japanese board game pieces. He gloats about causing a three-way standoff between the Dollars, Yellow Scarves and the third gang, the Blue Squares, speculating and delighting at the power and explosive nature of such struggles. This scene comes right after one discussing a love triangle, making the link between person-to-person dynamics and the constant bigger picture. Whilst gloating, Orihara sets the pieces on fire and watches them burn, marking the downward spiral of events that will follow.
Thanks to the pacing, the audience has time to soak in and appreciate Durarara!!’s skilled artwork. Akira Ito’s images and Akira Takata’s animation are both expressive and admirable, mingling with Makoto Yoshimori’s music to create something that not only communicates the story, but is in itself a pleasure to listen to and observe. It is sometimes fortunate for the show that these visuals are as emotive and engaging as they are, as they help hold the audience’s attention. If these elements were not strong players, then no matter how good the writing might be people would lose interest. There are, of course, plenty of action scenes as well, which are animated to a similarly good standard.
Discussion of the gangs can feel unnecessarily repetitive, at times, such as Anri’s many repeating questions to herself as she runs from the Yellow Scarves in episode 19, ‘The Blue Sky Perishes’. In fact, you may start to worry that the words “Yellow Scarves” and “Dollars” will have burnt impressions of themselves onto your TV screen from how many times you’ve read them in the course of an episode. This could, however, be fruitful fodder for a drinking game. The scripting also struggles with the issue that much of the drama takes place online, as this is where the gangs originate and how they communicate. Fortunately, as said above, the voice acting, artistry and score help these moments stay interesting.
Because it shares many of the same creators, Durarara!! has inevitably been compared to Baccano! by many people. It is considerably less violent than its brother show, but certainly not lacking in grit and drama. If you appreciate one of the shows, the chances are you should check out the other one. Durarara!! is clever, attractive to look at, occasionally moving, and has a healthy balance of action and relationships – so, everyone’s happy. If you’re not usually an anime fan, you might find that you still enjoy this one. If you are already fond of the genre, and haven’t watched this already, then definitely give it a try.
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Film: La veuve de Saint-Pierre
Year of production: 2000
UK Release date: 13th June 2011
Distributor: Park Circus
Certificate: 15
Running time: 112 mins
Director: Patrice Leconte
Starring: Juliette Binoche, Daniel Auteuil, Emir Kusturica, Michel Duchaussoy, Philippe Magnan
Genre: Drama/Romance
Format: DVD
Country of Production: France/Canada
Language: French
Review by: Gordon James Knox
La veuve de Saint-Pierre (The Widow Of Saint Pierre) is a period drama set on an isolated archipelago just off the Canadian cost in the days of the Second French Republic. Despite starring two of France’s most revered actors in Juliette Binoche and Daniel Auteuil, the film didn’t exactly set the world alight upon its original 2000 release. A stranger film than might be anticipated, La veuve… contains enough originality and moments of genuine inspiration to steer clear of Merchant Ivory territory and justify this re-release.
In 1849 on the island of Saint-Pierre, fisherman Ariel Neel Auguste is sentenced to death after being found guilty of the murder of the fishing boat Captain, Coupard. Since there is no guillotine on the island, arrangements have to be made to ship one in from the island of Martinique. In the meantime, Neel is placed under the custody of Captain Jean, Captain of the troops in Saint-Pierre.
While spending his days in the cell waiting for the guillotine and executioner, Neel is invited by the Captain’s kindly wife, Pauline, to assist her in her garden. Soon a growing bond develops between Neel and Pauline, watched over approvingly by her trusting husband, as she teaches him to read and allows him the freedom to perform odd jobs around the island.
Less pleased with Neel’s rehabilitation and integration into the community of Saint-Pierre is the island’s governing elite. Anxious to push ahead with the execution as a means of asserting their authority and maintain their privileged status, they are only too aware of the increasing popularity of the man they condemned to death. Their fears are soon realised as the islanders voice their opposition and make it clear they will in no way assist in Neel’s execution.
Finally, the guillotine arrives, shortly followed by a destitute immigrant who the authorities pressure into accepting the role of executioner. Tensions soon come to a head, and when the Captain makes it clear to the island governor that he will refuse orders to shoot on the crowds in the event of a riot over Neel’s execution, the governor writes to Paris accusing him of sedition. It is not long before Jean’s life also hangs in the balance…
The original French title of the film loses something in translation. ‘La veuve’ does indeed mean ‘widow’ in French, but it is also 19th century slang for the guillotine, similar to the American slang of ‘widowmaker’. Thus, the ‘veuve’ of the title refers both to the execution device which has to be shipped onto the island as well as to the eventual fate of Pauline. A certain element of miscommunication carries over into the film: a period piece which attempts to act simultaneously as an indictment of capital punishment, as well as a portrayal of the lengths people will go to for love and their ideals, it doesn’t always come together in a convincing manner. If it was not for the fact the film was based on actual events preserved in court records, the story itself would seem scarcely believable.
Some of the film’s shortcomings may be explained by Patrice Leconte only assuming the role of director at the 11th hour (the original director, Alain Corneau, dropped out of the project just four months before shooting was due to start). Leconte has been quite open in admitting his main motive in accepting the project was the opportunity to work with Juliette Binoche and Daniel Auteuil. Two of the brightest stars in French cinema, their performances are the main reasons to catch the film.
Only last year, Gerard Depardieu caused something of a stir in French film circles by launching a scathing attack on the acting abilities of Binoche, the darling of French cinema. Her performance here is unlikely to change the opinion of Depardieu, but it is another example of why many consider Binoche the finest actress of her generation. She gives yet another excellent, accomplished performance; everything below the surface, in stolen sideward glances, in slight but telling gestures. Resolutely unspectacular, so naturalistic and subtle that you don’t realise how much she is actually communicating until afterwards. It appears simple, only because Binoche’s talent makes it appear so effortless.
Autuiel’s performance is equally fine, and even more low-key, so carefully contained that, at times he appears almost unhinged. And perhaps there is something in this. The theme of sexual desire verging on obsession was explored by the director in his earlier Monsieur Hire, Le Mari de la coiffeuse and Le Parfum d'Yvonne, and it’s definitely at work here. One society lady, noting the way the Captain watches his wife, remarks to her companion, “He devours his lady with his eyes.” These society ladies often provide astute observations, a generally reliable chorus to the action of the story (an example of the film’s subtle unconventionality). The companion responds to that comment with the claim that their own husbands would be similarly attentive should their wives take up a handsome burly protégé for themselves. The juxtaposition of a scene where Pauline teaches Neel to read, their growing attraction to one another quite palpable, with a particularly impassioned love scene between the Captain and his wife seems to confirm this. Is the rehabilitation of Neel simply a form of foreplay, unconscious or not, for the couple; a testing of their love? Is this the significance of Pauline’s sensuous red dresses, the dark carmine so conspicuous among the washed out greys and subdue hues of the cinematography: a dangerous game both are playing that will eventually result in the shedding of blood?
This ambiguity makes for interesting viewing, but it does tend to clash with the fatalistic nature of the film and the way it plays out as pure tragedy in the classical tradition. While some may find the ambiguity and shades of grey enthralling, others may see confusion and a lack of focus in the presentation of the film’s main message and themes, compounded by the filmmaker’s predilection for offering up questions rather than answers. The relationship between the Captain and his wife is successful (mainly due to the nuanced performances of Autuiel and Binoche), but the character of Neel is less convincing. Since the director focuses mainly on his rehabilitation, there is little effort given to explain the inexplicable murder at the beginning of the film. “They aren’t punishing the man they sentenced,” Pauline proclaims. The only problem is what we see on screen doesn’t quite back this up. Neel does not really change, since we know little about him prior to his imprisonment; he is essentially portrayed as a gentle giant, essentially good, even saint-like, forever putting the needs of others before his own (even at the risk of his own life). None of this is the fault of Emir Kusturica (better known as a director in his own right, he is quietly impressive in his acting debut), but can be attributed to significant gaps in the initial development of his character. A more interesting question raised by the film but never truly explored is that of the capability of ‘good’ people to commit ‘evil’ acts. The same themes of crime and punishment, rehabilitation, redemption and responsibility touched upon in Le veuve were explored with far greater sensitivity and thoughtfulness in Tim Robbin’s Dead Man Walking. In its desire to hammer home its anti-capital punishment stance, La veuve sacrifices psychology and crucially its overall impact.
La veuve de Saint-Pierre is a good film, although far from a great one. It’s handsomely shot, with fine set design and costumes, and excellent performances from two of France’s greatest actors. Ultimately, though, it’s let down by some muddied thinking and a lack of substantial depth behind its ideas. An intriguing, if somewhat frustrating film.
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Film: Evangelion 2.22: You Can (Not) Advance
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 20th June 2011
Distributor: Manga
Certificate: 15
Running time: 107 mins
Director: Hideaki Anno, Masayuki, Kazuya Tsurumaki
Genre: Anime
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Japan
Language: Japanese/German/English
Review by: Mark Player
The highly anticipated second instalment to Hideaki Anno's four part feature film series rebuild of his seminal, mid-90s television series, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Evangelion 2.22: You Can (Not) Advance is now available on DVD and Blu-ray through Manga Entertainment.
Set not long after the events of the first film, 14-year-old Shinji Ikari is still conflicted about his supposed destiny; that is: to be an Eva Pilot – towering mechanised cyborg warriors, built to protect Earth from an ongoing invasion of Angels: equally huge and monstrous entities from space that wish to cause apocalyptic destruction. He also has to contend with his estranged father, Gendo Ikari, the director of operations at NERV – the organisation that controls the Eva Units – as well as reach out to his emotionally distant fellow pilot, Rei.
But with the continual threat of more Angel attacks looming, and with each Angel being more powerful and challenging than the last, NERV takes on another pilot; the arrogant and headstrong Asuka, freshly transferred from NERV's European branch. Her presence causes a rift in an already tentative equilibrium between Shinji, Rei and their chaperone/ranking officer, Misato. Things are complicated further by the arrival of a fourth pilot, the mysterious Mari, whose objectives and motives are unknown...
Neon Genesis Evangelion's mythology is so incredibly dense and multilayered that this is now the second time that the series creators are attempting to tell its story – not including the innumerable manga comic spinoffs, or the film that was a re-telling of what many viewers believed to be an unsatisfactory ending to the original series, Neon Genesis: End Of Evangelion (1998) – and as a result, has created a huge world fanbase. Pressure from such a fanbase was partly the inspiration for this reimaging. The first of this new generation of films – dubbed the 'Rebuild of Evangelion' – Evangelion 1.11 You Are (Not) Alone, released last year, was essentially a condensed and relatively faithful recap of the first third or so of the television series, but brought certain elements forward that weren't originally revealed until later on, as well as offered a complete visual overhaul with state-of-the-art animation techniques. Its sequel, the subject of this review, continues this modus operandi…sort of.
The same basic narrative progression occurs, but in a way that's strangely different. Many of the key events from the series take place here – when Shinji is forced into fighting one of his fellow Eva Units, with the pilot trapped inside, after it’s taken over by an Angel virus, for instance – but are executed with different characters and for different motivational reasons. However, fans of the original show will be blind-sided by how scenarios familiar to them have and will be used to evolve the story towards a drastically different conclusion. Evangelion 2.22 represents that figurative fork in the road. While its predecessor played out in fairly predictable tandem with its source, this film starts to deviate from the original course, and it’s mostly for the better.
The characters feel better drawn, not just in terms of animation – which, by the way, looks very good – but in terms of emotional development. The personalities of the main cast, as well as their relationships with one another, feel much more subtle and smooth, whilst complimenting the existing dynamic quite well. Shinji is comparatively less whiny here, in the same way as Rei is a little more human and Askua less of a brat. Mari, a completely new character created specifically for this 'Rebuild', is an intriguing addition who doesn't get massive amount to do this time around, but whose role will probably become more prominent during the next instalments.
Another interesting addition is the extra detail given to the complex workings of Tokyo 3, a huge fortified cityscape that has the ability to lower its skyscrapers into the ground in the midst of an Angel attack and the story's principle setting. Little titbits like getting a glimpse of the evacuation procedures employed to get citizens to safety or the en-mass cleanup operations required after each conflict, which are as ridiculously destructive as ever, are most welcome and go some way to help overcome occasionally dubious logic issues. Rei's apartment complex remains partially demolished, presumably from a battle in the previous film. Considering the number of buildings that are destroyed in Evangelion on a regular basis, it’s nice to see some aftermath consequence as a result of the battles that are had; a reminder of the homes destroyed and the lives lost.
As for the battles themselves, the main draw for most viewers, they have been completely redone to the point that many of the Angels in this instalment are of new design, and with it comes a new vigour and intensity. Some of the set-pieces are especially savage, with the animators having no qualms over having the city awash in a tsunami of blood, or having gigantic pieces of armour-clad flesh rip through people's houses as they are torn off and tossed away. The general pacing of the story is equally brutal, though not quite up to the hyperbolic speed of the first film, and will likely leave the uninitiated out in the cold with all its talk of AT Fields, LCL Fluid and Dummy Plugs (fortunately, some of the film's terminology is collected in a glossary that features in the accompanying Collector's Edition booklet).
Another factor that may confuse or alienate newcomers is Evangelion's characteristically bizarre tonal shifts: flitting from apocalyptic battles of imposing scope to cerebral psychoanalysis of the main characters; each mentally ill or emotionally distressed in their own way. Similar to the television series, there are many biblical references and religious symbolism interspersed, but, at the same time, the film isn't too lofty or pretentious to have a stab at broad humour – scenes involving Shinji, Asuka and Misato living together in the latter's cramped apartment play out like a weirdly raunchy sit-com. Something that even fans may be puzzled over is the infrequent yet noticeable moments of blatant 'fan service' that find their way in: dubious partial nudity, the occasional and unnecessary up-skirt shot or lingering image of cleavage chip away at an otherwise dignified and excellent re-interpretation of one of anime's most successful and popular franchises.
Evangelion 2.22: You Can (Not) Advance is most certainly a treat for fans of the series; taking the Neon Genesis story in an interesting direction without desecrating the series that made it so popular to begin with (although there will always be nitpickers). Those who are new will do better by visiting the first film before taking this one on, but if you know what you're getting into, 2.22 offers a dramatic facelift that will leave you wondering how Hideaki Anno and his team are going to proceed next.
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Film: Detective Dee: Mystery Of The Phantom Flame
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 27th June 2011
Distributor: Cine Asia
Certificate: 15
Running time: 119 mins
Director: Tsui Hark
Starring: Andy Lau, Carina Lau Ka Ling, Lee Bingbing, Deng Chao, Tony Leung Ka Fai
Genre: Action/Crime/Fantasy/Martial Arts/Thriller
Format: DVD
Country of Production: China/Hong Kong
Language: Mandarin
Review by: Daryl Wing
In most cases, a film in the whodunit genre suffers second time round for obvious reasons – the outcome is no longer a riddle, no matter how unfathomable previously, while its twists and turns lack the thrill of the chase on repeat viewings. Therefore, it’s welcome relief that Director Tsui Hark (Once Upon A Time in China) has teamed up with writer Chen Kuo Fu (The Message, Double Vision) and choreographer Sammo Hung to add some much needed action to proceedings. But will the interesting premise of a detective story crossed with a historical actioner set during the Tang Dynasty bring the audience back for more?
A series of mysterious murders involving internal combustion is seemingly going to prevent the inauguration of China's first Empress (Carina Lau). She is forced to seek help from Detective Dee (Andy Lau), renowned as the greatest investigative mind and kung fu master of his generation.
Bringing him back from exile to embark on a manhunt, the reluctant Dee is helped by Wu’s loyal aide (Li Bingbing), and it isn’t long before their progress is hindered by fire beetles, creepy assassins and double-crossers, who will all go to murderous lengths to stop the coronation and destroy the empire once and for all…
With a tepid opening, including laughable attempts to set people on fire using computer generated images (it doesn’t bode well), Detective Dee is initially a bit of a struggle. Hindered further by obvious wire-work throughout and a rugged hero you would normally see sitting beneath a cashpoint in town begging for change, it’s difficult to see where the entertainment is going to come from.
It’s also hard to decide whether or not the plentiful use of CGI here is necessary. Sure, the landscapes and backdrops are dazzling, and they sit nicely with the style of the film, but at times it feels a little bit too artificial, as if we’re watching a detective story more akin to Scooby Doo rather than Sherlock Holmes. The underground city, with its ghostly villains, is the only exception, with a spooky setting that works well and manages to send a shiver or two down the spine. However, with a plot struggling to make sense of suspicions and internecine strife, it’s a relief when the action takes over and we’re catapulted into a fantasy fight-fest.
Choreographed by Hong Kong maestro Sammo Hung, the action is inventive and exhilarating for the most part, whether Dee is battling against the feisty Jinger (the film’s highlight), sparring with super-villains or dueling with a yakking deer. The latter, despite its weirdness, somehow doesn’t sit out of place, and actually offers some edge-of-the-seat entertainment when it finally kicks off. The wire-work still grates, but with scenes so swift and energetic, it’s hard not to get sucked into such a bizarre world; its lengthy running time barely noticeable thanks to the plot’s cracking pace.
With Tsui Hark needing to rediscover some of his early style and verve, it was unlikely that his impressive cast was ever going to let him down. Having said that, they barely get a chance to endear themselves to the audience because characterization and development is ditched in favour of a speedy storyline, allowing little time to breath with set-piece after set-piece unleashed on the giddy audience. Lau will please most, especially post-shave, but at times he does seem to be strolling, longing for a meatier role, and it would’ve been more interesting to see him continue with his Jack Sparrow impersonation, rather than a fancy-footed Jack Bauer.
Western audiences will probably lap this up, and will no doubt enjoy the tongue-in-cheek vibe that complements the frenetic action, especially when Dee explores the darkly sinister netherworld during the second act, devouring its delicious villains engineering outrageous methods to inflict damage on Dee’s quest. The soundtrack more than matches the look of a film that somehow comes at a fraction of the cost of a Hollywood blockbuster and yet still feels like one.
Tsui Hark keeps the film quirky and engaging thanks to a beautiful visual sense filled with unexpected, for its genre, poetic touches and costumes straight out of a fairytale. The whodunit may be predictable (it certainly won’t tax the brain), but it’s also ultimately pointless, and in that sense Detective Dee surprises – you won’t be bothered in the slightest as the mask is whipped from our antagonist’s noggin - you’ll just be relishing another body-busting battle instead.
Add to that the welcome twists in the final act, with the auteur embracing his “to achieve greatness, everyone is expendable” line by making sure we understand that no-one (almost) is safe, and you’ll soon forgive, or even forget, the slow opening with its poor effects and lazily sped-up rooftop action.
Detective Dee abandons the mystery its audience may expect and replaces it with gorgeous visuals, breathtaking action sequences and a few quirky touches that transform this slow-starter into a satisfying actioner worthy of your attention.
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Film: Back To Normandy
Year of production: 2007
UK Release date: 27th June 2011
Distributor: Artificial Eye
Certificate: 15
Running time: 113 mins
Director: Nicolas Philibert
Genre: Documentary
Format: DVD
Country of Production: France
Language: French
Review by: Gordon James Knox
Released as part of The Nicolas Philibert Collection. In 2002, Être Et Avoir, Nicolas Philibert’s documentary about a provincial infant school and its kindly schoolmaster, won the hearts of film lovers worldwide. In Back To Normandy, the director returns to rural France with a film-about-a film-about a 19th century court case that could not be more different.
More than thirty years ago, Philibert began his career as an assistant director on Moi, Pierre Rivière, Rene Allio’s 1976 film based on the 1835 memoir of a Normandy farmer’s son, Pierre Riviere, who wrote it in his prison cell while condemned to death for the brutal murder of his mother, sister and brother with a billhook.
Allio chose to shoot his film very close to the location where the murders occurred and cast farmers and other non-actors in the major roles. At the time, Philbert was tasked with finding locals to fill the parts, and for Back To Normandy, he tracks them down again to see how it changed their lives.
Interspersed with interviews with some of the original cast members are shots of key locations used in Moi, Pierre Rivière and other locations relating to the historical case itself. Back To Normandy is a cine-essay which (very gently) touches upon themes of history and modernity, community and society, and the art of filmmaking itself…
The full title of Allio’s film translates as “I, Pierre Rivière, having slaughtered my mother, my sister and my brother…” This was the opening line of the killer’s jailhouse confession, the manuscript of which was rediscovered in the early 1970s by a team of scholars under the direction of the philosopher and intellectual historian Michel Foucault. Where some may have dismissed the tale as merely a footnote to an inexplicable crime, Foucalt argued that Rivière’s singular account (all the more remarkable for having been produced by a peasant with only basic schooling) revealed crucial insights into the development of modern judiciary and its relation to mental illness. As Rivière’s case was the first to use psychiatric testimony, it offered an unparalleled guide to the way medical scrutiny was being married to judicial control. Not only did the case appeal to Foucault’s longstanding interest in those power structures which underpin society, but it also posed a radical challenge to our ideas about the Enlightenment itself, since language and writing are usually considered the prerogative of the rational and law-abiding. In collaboration with Foucault, Allio dramatised the events in a brilliant and unsettling film, which received almost unanimous critical acclaim when it was first released and yet remains largely unseen by modern audiences.
Some of the ideas found in that film are revisited in Back To Normandy; but in a very indirect way. The first half of the film consists mainly of interviews with the amateur actors as they reminisce about their experience working on the film. What eventually becomes clear is that the filming of Moi, Pierre Rivière didn’t have that much of an impact on their lives at all. Most of them fondly remembered the film crew sweeping into the area and offering them a singular experience, but when the cameras left, life more or less returned to normal.
Jacqueline Millière, frighteningly believable as the tormenting Rivière matriarch, speaks of some initial wariness on the part of people who recognised her on the street shortly after the film’s original release, but that soon went away. The merry Borel family considers its patriarch’s thespian adventure a source of hilarity. Even the enigmatic Claude Hébert, who played Pierre to great acclaim and seemed destined for a glittering onscreen career, would go on to lead a life far removed from the world of cinema. Everyday life, though, went on, and the stories of heartbreak and quiet tragedy revealed in some of the interviews gives us a rare glimpse into the life beyond, no less dramatic for occurring away from the eye of the camera lens.
Tentatively, Philibert does begin to work in parallels and connections between his documentary and Moi, Pierre, as well as the era in which the story was set. In one particularly gruesome scene, we are shown how the slaughter of a pig is carried out in much the same way as it would have in the 19th century. Charles and Annie Lihou speak movingly of the impact of their daughter’s schizophrenia on the rest of the family. Annick Bisson — who, as a 16-year-old, played the luckier of the killer’s two sisters — now works with mentally handicapped adults. The Enlightenment idea of rational progress, the philosophical background to the Pierre Rivière case, is echoed in oblique references to the seemingly unstoppable march of modernity - shots of farm machinery, an organised protest against plans to turn a nearby area into a nuclear waste dump. Even the process of filmmaking isn’t immune – in one scene, we learn that the film-printing studio Allio set up is in financial difficulties and is set to cease production, a victim of the digital revolution. At times, a bittersweet sense of nostalgia emerges, as well as a kind of sadness for the way things change - sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. In spite of Philibert’s highly objective and oblique approach (sometimes exasperatingly so), this is a deeply felt film.
Back To Normandy closes with a scene which reveals just how much personal import the film has for its director. Philibert’s father had been cast in a small role in Moi, Pierre Rivière, but sadly his scene never made the final cut. Thirty years later, Philibert has tracked down the cut print, sans audio, and it is with this footage the film closes. Presumably now departed, the old man addresses the camera in the role of a court official, and though we cannot hear the words he speaks, the image still contains the power to speak to us in some strange, indefinable way. The scene seems to acknowledges that film can only ever be an approximation of life, and though it can never wholly capture the complexities of living itself, it is capable of a poignancy in spite of, or perhaps precisely because, of its limitations. It’s an unexpectedly moving finale to a film which doesn’t always fully connect, but when it does Back To Normandy achieves a quite singular profundity.
Back To Normandy is a deeply personal film about an experience which was fundamental in forming Philibert’s artistic identity. Although it never suffers from artistic self-indulgence, it may be a little abstract for most tastes. Certainly a familiarity with Allio’s original film would seem to be a prerequisite for a full appreciation of this thoughtful and highly nuanced documentary. Watch Moi, Pierre Rivière first, and then consider giving this a go.
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Film: ABC Africa
Year of production: 2001
UK Release date: 27th June 2011
Distributor: Artificial Eye
Certificate: 15
Running time: 84 mins
Director: Abbas Kiarostami
Genre: Documentary
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Iran
Language: Persian/English
Review by: Paul Kelly
Released as part of The Abbas Kiarostami Collection. In 2000, Abbas Kiarostami, one of Iran's foremost filmmakers, received a fax from the UN's International Fund for Agricultural development. In it, he was asked to visit the Uganda Woman's Effort to Save Orphans charity in order to make a documentary about their work. After going to the area to scout for locations, Kiarostami and his assistant Seyfolah Samadian decided to put together the raw footage they had shot on hand-held cameras. ABC Africa is the final result of their work.
The Ugandan Woman's Effort to Save Orphans is a charity which works with children and teenagers left without parents as a result of the AIDS epidemic which still exercises its stranglehold over the continent. By a sharing of money and business incentives, these woman take orphans into their care and help them to live a normal life, as well as providing for themselves.
We learn little about the inner workings of the charity because sit-down, one on one interviews are not in the nature of the film. ABC Africa is an example of pure, minimalist documentary filmmaking. There is no structure to what Kiarostami and his assistant set out to do, no agenda on their minds as they chat with the locals. What results from this is a film which may lack the kind of hard hitting journalism that we are accustomed to seeing in tales from some of Africa's poorest countries, but one which offers a candid insight into a way of life we cannot possible fathom…
As hard hitting and insightful as much of the footage is, much of it is far too long and the film could have done with an awful lot longer in the editing suit. Here a director has a chance to make a film that will really get people thinking about an important issue that is too often overlooked. But instead of strongly focusing on the important points at hand, Kiarostami allows his camera's attention to wander into crowds of dancing children or clouds drifting by for periods of time - so long that it is easy to forget you are watching a film. Much of what takes an hour and twenty minutes could have been distilled into a far more impactful ten minute promotion for the charity.
This is a shame because there are moments when the fly-on-the-wall immediacy of the film is striking. This is particularly true of a visit to a centre which cares for AIDS victims, where the gaunt, hopeless and helpless faces of young and old alike make their way across the screen in a solemn procession, before a nurse is shown removing the body of a child with a blanket and a cardboard box with an efficiency which is as haunting as it is deeply sad. The style also works during an impromptu meeting with several families living in one shared house with open windows and doors; the happy dancing feet of the children and the patter of the rain outside working in harmony, reminding us that there is hope even in places seemingly void of it at first glance.
These moments are exceptions in Kiarostami's film, however, and do not do enough to lift the rest of the film, which feels like being forced to sit and watch a friend's holiday videos; undoubtedly interesting to have made and important socially, but unforgivably boring to watch. I use the word unforgivable because it seems to me that having the opportunity to make a film about people who deserve our help for the great work that they do, and failing to portray their story in a way which is interesting to watch, is just that. It's all very well to enjoy looking at the smiling faces of these children on film, but if Kiarostami had made a more watchable, structured film, he could have done a lot more to keep those faces smiling. This is not to question his motivation, he certainly made ABC Africa for all the right reasons, but the fact remains that Abbas Kiarostami is a talented and experienced enough filmmaker to have done far better with the chance that he was given.
Undoubtedly a film needed to be made to share the great work that Uganda Woman's Effort to Save Orphans does, but perhaps Abbas Kiarostami was not the man to make it. What should have been one of the most impactful documentaries of its day is rendered almost unwatchable by the director's refusal to structure the film even slightly.
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Film: Eden Of The East: The King Of Eden
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 6th June 2011
Distributor: Manga
Certificate: 15
Running time: 204 mins
Director: Kenji Kamiyama
Genre: Anime
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Japan
Language: Japanese
Review by: Anastasia Catris
Beginning as a background artist on iconic anime films such as Akira and Kiki’s Delivery Service, Kenji Kamiyama has since created a name for himself through his work on Blood: The Last Vampire and his contributions to the Ghost In The Shell film series. After almost six years working in the Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex universe, Kamiyama has since stepped away to direct the fantasy series Moribito: Guardian Of The Spirit and the modern mystery series Eden Of The East.
Eden Of The East: The King Of Eden is the follow-up to the 2009 television series Eden Of The East. The original television series is offered as an extra in uninterrupted film form on the second disc of this collection, Eden Of The East: Air Communication.
The television series follows the events three months after a missile attack on Japan, known as ‘Careless Monday’. However, the missile attack mysteriously claimed no casualties and was disregarded by most people. The series begins with a young Japanese woman, Saki Morimi, who is visiting Washington D.C. on a graduation trip. After getting into a misunderstanding with local police officers, she is rescued by a naked Japanese man carrying nothing but a phone and a gun, who introduces himself as Akira Takizawa.
Akira is suffering from amnesia and uses his phone to attempt to recall his memories. The phone is charged with ¥8.2 billion in digital money and Akira uses some of this to escort Saki back to Japan. Akira soon discovers that his phone is part of a game and he is one of twelve participants called Seleção who have been given ¥10 billion to ‘save Japan’. By using the phone to call a ‘concierge’, known as Juiz, the participants are able to process virtually any request for a price.
As the series progresses, Akira learns that one of the Seleção is the person who launched the missile attack on Japan. This same Seleção decides to launch a second attack of missiles towards Japan but is intercepted by Akira, who orders new missiles to intercept the enemy. Akira decides that the only way he can save Japan is to use his remaining money to become King of Japan and, once again, erase his memory.
The Eden Of The East film, The King of Eden, follows on where the series left off. Saki is searching New York for Akira, who is missing and once again has no memory. As she searches, several of the other Seleção are attempting to assassinate Akira, so that his rise to monarch is not a success. Upon Saki finding Akira and reminding him of his past, he continues his plan to become King of Japan, despite the other agent’s attempts on his life…
A highly political set of films, one may, at first, be put off by the focus on unemployment issues, entrepreneurism and capitalism. Indeed, during the television series, the translated subtitles are oftentimes confusing and unable to explain things clearly. This is surprising considering the great awareness of Western culture that is shown in the series itself. The film, The King Of Eden, however, is far more Western-audience friendly, with the translation evidently having had more care taken over it, and many terms explained clearly.
The film itself is reminiscent of modern espionage, action dramas such as The Bourne Identity; however, it holds a unique innocence and likability. The animation is light and fluid, with a great display of digital animation coupled with a traditional, painterly look. The first episode of the television series, which has now been compiled into one feature-length film, is comedic with a sweet childishness; however, this recurring childishness jars with the rest of the series and consequent film.
The use of modern technology, including the Eden Of The East recognition system and Seleção telephones, is both innovative and believable, grounding advanced technology in reality. The characters are also well rounded and likable, with each of them having a well formed personality and background. Even occasional fantastical elements are loosely explained, such as Number 11’s transformation into an angel, which is explained as a high-tech ‘illusion’.
Each of the Seleção have unique agendas on how they believe they can ‘save’ Japan. The most intriguing and interesting character would have to be Shiratori (Seleção Number 11) who makes for one of the most exciting episodes of the original series. Shiratori juxtaposes against Saki wonderfully with her overt sensuality and control of men, whilst Saki has a childish and innocent view of relationships. Her character is sadly not expanded upon enough in the final film, however, which, after such an impressive entry into the series, is disappointing.
Both films are a mixture of genres and narrative styles from romance to espionage, action to comedy, which creates a dynamic and enjoyable series. However, the fluidity of the series is marred by the fact that this can often come across as a lack of direction. This is only enhanced by the mixtures of anime styles included in the films. Fluctuating between chibi, kawaii, manga and realism, the differing artistic styles meld with the differing genres to create a highly confusing piece of inconsistent cinema.
Consideration should be made of the value of this DVD box set, as you are, in essence, getting a full television series and film. However, the film is not a standalone venture and should not be watched without having first watched the original series as it is a pure sequel. One should question why the film was not released as a second series rather than a film, as it still leaves a lot of questions unanswered and seems rushed in its lack of resolution. Surely the next film will answer many of these questions, but in creating a film rather than a second series, Kamiyama has let interesting characters and plot developments slide, and we are left with a somewhat boring sequel to an innovative series.
Though confusing in its direction, the television series is imaginative and daring in its use of multiple genres and animation styles. The film, however, lets this series down; seeming tame and one dimensional in comparison to its predecessor.
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Film: Coeur Fidèle
Year of production: 1923
UK Release date: 27th June 2011
Distributor: Eureka!
Certificate: PG
Running time: 85 mins
Director: Jean Epstein
Starring: Léon Mathot, Gina Manès, Edmond Van Daële, Claude Benedict, Madame Maufroy
Genre: Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: France
Language: French
Review by: Sarah Hill
With his 1923 film, Coeur Fidèle, director and film theorist Jean Epstein set out to create a simple story of love and violence which would win the confidence of those who believed that “only the lowest melodrama can interest the public.” He would create “... a melodrama so stripped of all the conventions ordinarily attached to the genre, so sober, so simple, that it might approach the nobility and excellence of tragedy.” Whilst the film may not have won favour with the general public in the way that he had hoped, in stripping back the conventions of the genre, Epstein created a melodrama which exhibited innovative uses of photography and editing techniques and makes a significant contribution to the style that would come to be known as ‘poetic realism’.
Marie (Gina Manès) works in a bar where she lives with the owner and his wife. She is the object of the desire of Petit Paul (Edmond Van Daële), a man who has only ever filled her with fear. Marie is forced to marry Petit Paul, even though she is in love with the gentle dockworker, Jean (Léon Mathot). Jean follows the couple to the fairground where the two men fight, which results in a policeman being stabbed. Petit Paul manages to get away but Jean is arrested and sent to prison.
A year later, on his release from prison, Jean tracks down Marie and discovers that she now lives with a perpetually drunk Petit Paul and their sick baby. Jean tries to help Marie with the assistance of her disabled neighbour (Marie Epstein). However, village gossips inform Petit Paul that Marie is planning to leave with Jean and he returns to the house for a violent confrontation, armed with a gun. During the struggle that ensues, the woman takes the gun and shoots Petit Paul...
Despite its narrative, Coeur Fidèle appears to be not so much a melodrama as an early social realist film. The characters inhabit a very working class milieu – Marie works in a pub owned by her family, where much of the early action takes place. Also, the idea that she is forced into and then trapped in a relationship with an undesirable man gives the film a very domestic feel. Not only does the film contain elements of social realism but it also arguably one of the earliest films to display characteristics of poetic realism, in which everyday sights acquire a transcendental form of beauty, which evokes comparisons with contemporary directors such as Pawlikowski. Each frame of Epstein’s film is like a photograph in which the characters are perfectly positioned. Nowhere is this more evident than during a scene in which Marie and her secret lover, Jean, sit on the cliff tops with their arms around each other, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes as the waves gently crash around them in an image of absolute serenity. The way that Jean looks at Marie with his eyes full of longing is in stark contrast to Petit Paul’s lecherous leer, and says more about the relationship between Jean and Marie than dialogue ever could.
What is most striking about Coeur Fidèle, however, is its innovative use of editing, which is all the more impressive when one considers the fact that the film was made in 1923. Epstein frequently cuts rapidly between mid-shots to sudden close-ups of a character’s eyes or an aggressive fist. When witnessing these rapid cuts and extreme close-ups, it is almost impossible not to think of Luis Buñuel’s 1929 film Un Chien Andalou, and it is, therefore, unsurprising to learn that Buñuel worked as an assistant director to Epstein on his film Mauprat in 1926. In addition, as well as highly rapid editing, Epstein also utilises superimposition to convey the main ideas within the film, such as when Marie’s face is superimposed over an image of the waves at Marseille’s dockside, conveying the idea that the love between Marie and Jean is natural and offers a sense of freedom that she does not possess in her relationship with Petit Paul, which mostly takes place indoors and gives the impression of stifling confinement. Furthermore, the love between Marie and Jean is conveyed more overtly when Jean’s face is superimposed over the shape of a heart.
The highlight of Epstein’s use of editing within the film is undoubtedly the scene during which Marie and Petit Paul ride the carousels at the fairground. Epstein cuts quickly between images of the couple whirring around on the horses to the soaring hill tops and back to the ground, as it spins below Marie who is looking down towards it. Whilst typically the image of a couple riding a carousel, complete with soaring camerawork, would be used to connote the giddy exuberance of love, here it is used to convey the complete opposite. The sequence creates the feeling of relentless, stomach-churning motion because however much Marie wishes to escape the clutches of Petit Paul in order to live freely with Jean, she knows that she will never be able to. This sequence builds towards a tense crescendo until Petit Paul finally manages to kiss Marie roughly on the cheek and, in doing so, claim ownership of her. She belongs to him now.
Following this, the film becomes more conventional in style, and the focus is very much on narrative progression as Jean and Petit Paul fight, which results in Jean being sent to prison and Marie living with Petit Paul and having his baby. It is at this point that the film seems to become less captivating without the use of rapid editing to help maintain the pace established in earlier scenes. However, Epstein soon increases the dramatic tension once again as Jean attempts to rescue Marie with the help of her disabled neighbour. After her walking stick gets crushed as she tries to escape, the girl is forced to crawl up the stairs to the room where Marie and her baby are trapped by Petit Paul. The tension is unbearable as she slowly and painfully crawls up the stairs before finally managing to grab Petit Paul’s gun in order to shoot him.
In the film’s epilogue, Jean and Marie are shown to be reunited and are at the same fairground from earlier in the film. As Marie rests her head on Jean’s shoulder, the contrast between this scene and the previous fairground scene is remarkable; it’s as if the characters – and also the audience - are finally able to breathe. Coeur Fidèle closes with a title card that reads: “Love allows one to forget everything.” However, whilst Marie and Jean now appear to have everything they wanted, there is a weariness behind their eyes which suggests that too much has happened for them to simply forget.
Coeur Fidèle is a captivating film, despite the occasional lull. The simple story greatly facilitates the director’s experiments with camerawork and editing and it is visually very striking. Ultimately, the film is an early masterclass in film editing which contains some exquisite moments of poetic realism. It is a film which, today, appears to be quite ahead of its time. SH
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Film: Doing Time For Patsy Cline
Year of production: 1997
UK Release date: 20th June 2011
Distributor: Crabtree
Certificate: 15
Running time: 95 mins
Director: Chris Kennedy
Starring: Richard Roxburgh, Miranda Otto, Matt Day, Tony Barry, Roy Billing
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Australia
Language: English
Review by: Mary Igoe
It’s probably safe to say that the more successful Australian films tend to build up a cult following, judging by the exploits of Muriel’s Wedding and The Adventures Of Priscilla, Queen Of The Desert. If the secret to a winning formula’s down to a certain ‘je-ne-sais-quoi’, then Doing Time For Patsy Cline has a lot of work to do, but an American deep-south warbler crossed with an Australian out-back comedy may just do the trick!
It all starts with the shy, country & western-loving hicky Ralph leaving his home on the family farm to find fame and fortune with his guitar in America’s Nashville. With a one way plane ticket in his pocket, Ralph’s parents drop him off at a crossroads in the middle of the outback so he can hitch his way to the airport.
When a flashy sports car stops to give him a lift, Ralph meets Boyd and Patsy; a fast-living couple on their way to Sydney that will change his life forever. Along the way, a police car gives chase, and when it finally catches up to them, Patsy manages to escape unseen while the two men are arrested for drug trafficking (Boyd’s latest enterprise), and taken to the local gaol pending further investigation.
While there, Boyd and Ralph strike up a friendship of sorts, and when Patsy comes to visit, she reveals she has cancer and is going to refuse any treatment. This, amongst other factors, pushes Ralph to make the selfless decision of solely taking the blame for the crime, despite his innocence, so that Boyd can go free to be with Patsy...
Along the way, flash-forwards show the three coincidently united in a recording studio in America. When Ralph plays a song he’s written to Patsy, she sings along, and a sure hit is created between them. The two go on to win over the crowds and success follows with Boyd as a manager, but chance sees an accident fatally met by one of the party…
Sometimes it’s the oddball stories that bring all the more charm to the screen – although ‘charm’ doesn’t really seem to tally with anything Aussie. ‘Charisma’ might be more fitting, and Doing Time For Patsy Cline certainly brings a lot of Australian personality to the screen.
The story has its unexpected turns and consequential circumstances that manage to keep boredom at bay, at least from the point of Ralph and Boyd’s arrest. Pairing the ever-so-cheesy country & western theme with the frank and dark humour that Australian culture revels in is rather out of tune (pun pardoned!), but if the irony in the contrast works for you, the rest of the film should only bring laughs.
When it comes to screenplay, a little more discretion could have been used in the timing of the flash-forwards, as sometimes things get a little confusing rather than create intrigue. The script, however, is one of the redeeming qualities of the film, and if only there was even more humour, it could’ve been a corker, as, occasionally, the comedy is quite subtle and easily overlooked.
It must be near impossible to have a good script with bad characterisation, and so it follows that the colourful characters provide an easy source of entertainment. From Ralph’s parents to the neighbouring cell ‘crims’, each presents an hospitable palette to exhibit that dry sense of humour from down under.
It’s perhaps Richard Roxburgh as Boyd who steals the show when it comes to performances. The part seems to have been written for him, as he bounces off the walls of his cell with all the energy, intensity and creativeness of the optimistic opportunist that Boyd is. Matt Day is also perfectly cast as submissive Ralph in need of some balls, which he nobly obtains, and with fervent conveyance!
While Miranda Otto is a good actress, and she plays the part of forlorn maiden well, her softly whimpering voice as Patsy is a bit annoying…and continual…all the way through the film…to the very…very end, but the surprising juxtaposition in her singing voice brings a little relief.
Of course, a film set in the back lands of Australia encourages the use of good photography, which it achieves; and even shot compositions throughout the gaol scenes are appreciatively thoughtful. Finally, as far as country & western music goes, not much fault can be found in the score that bares the likes of Dolly Parton, Willie Nelson and Emmylou Harris.
Doing Time For Patsy Cline could have been better if the script were richer, and if it had started from about 30 minutes in, as the beginning is quite slow and a bit bewildering as far as establishing what kind of story’s being told. Australian humour with its darkness, dryness, and self deprecation can be one of the funniest and here it doesn’t disappoint, but it leaves the viewer wanting a bit more than they receive. MI
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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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