My Cultural Diet

If you were to ask me why I started watching this Netflix anime about a young woman who suddenly finds herself betrothed to a seemingly ruthless man she’s never met, I’m not sure I could give you an answer. (The algorithm works in mysterious ways, I guess.) Given the premise, there’s loads of melodrama as our young heroine — who arguably possesses one of the breathiest and most forlorn voices in all of anime — moves from an abusive household to one that holds the promise of something more. Naturally, romantic triangles and dramatic misunderstandings ensue. The series’ exploration of abuse and trauma adds an interesting wrinkle as does the incorporation of supernatural elements and alternate Japanese history. In the end, however, My Happy Marriage can’t quite integrate all of these elements; it can’t seem to make up its mind what it wants to be. A second season was recently greenlit, which I might check out to see if the storytelling gets any stronger.

There’s no point in denying Akira’s status as an iconic and seminal work of both animation and sci-fi. Even now, 35 years after its release, there are segments that far surpass anything that’s been filmed or animated since, especially when it comes to sheer apocalyptic spectacle. The term “mind-blowing” gets tossed around so casually these days, but the last 30 minutes or so, as Tetsuo’s powers run amok and everyone resorts to increasingly desperate measures to stop him, are exactly that. (And I shouldn’t have to say this, but attempting to capture any of that in live action would be a fool’s errand.) That said, my response to the film was a bit cooler this time around than in the past, and I think that’s because I’ve finally read Katsuhiro Otomo’s original manga. Not to take anything away from Otomo’s adaptation of his own work, but the manga’s storyline is so much deeper and richer. The anime hits all of the important notes, and of course, is a visual triumph, but there’s so much more in the manga.

Considerably more sedate and somber than its predecessor, Patlabor 2: The Movie has everything you could possibly want from a Mamoru Oshii film. It’s got a heady, convoluted plot involving political and military conspiracies, glacial pacing punctuated by intense action, philosophical discussions about the nature of war and peace, highly detailed military activity, contemplative scenes enhanced by Production I.G’s gorgeous cel animation and Kenji Kawai’s moody ambient score, and there’s even a basset hound for good measure. 1995’s Ghost in the Shell is usually lauded as Oshii’s signature work, and understandably so. But you could make a strong argument for Patlabor 2: The Movie being a very close second. In fact, I’d daresay that Patlabor 2: The Movie, which was released in 1993, laid the foundation for Ghost in the Shell’s contemplative cyberpunk.

Based on the Patlabor TV series, which itself was based on the long-running Mobile Police Patlabor manga, Patlabor: The Movie suffers from a rather slight storyline involving a hacker’s plan to infect all of Tokyo’s Labors (i.e., giant mecha used by construction, police, and the military) with a virus. But honestly, I wasn’t watching Patlabor: The Movie for the storyline. I was watching it for the directing (because I tend to like Mamoru Oshii’s aesthetic), the hand-drawn cel animation (which was refreshing after watching so much modern CG-enhanced animation), and the mechanical designs (because giant mechs are always cool). Consider a short scene from the film’s opening, in which a military Labor is aerially deployed and a tiny drag chute is used to pull it out of the aircraft. The attention to detail in just that short sequence alone (e.g., the uncoiling of the chute’s rope, the sense of mass in the mech’s movement) was rewarding enough to justify watching the entire movie.

Do you enjoy watching epic, multi-episode-spanning space battles featuring tens of thousands of ships and maybe even some Death Star-like moon bases for good measure? That’s obviously a trick question, because who doesn’t like watching that sort of thing? But do you also enjoy watching episodes in which characters do nothing but discuss military strategies, debate political theories, and philosophize about democracy, freedom, and human history? If so, then Legend of the Galactic Heroes: Die Neue These may be your next favorite anime. A modern remake of Legend of the Galactic Heroes, which ran for 110 episodes in the ’80s and ’90s, and was itself based on Yoshiki Tanaka’s sci-fi novels, Die Neue These really scratched my personal itch for sprawling, galaxy-spanning space opera, though it gets pretty convoluted with dozens of major characters and storylines within storylines. It’s also an interesting world-building exercise, juxtaposing 19th century Prussia, Norse mythology, and more “modern” cultures in its various futuristic nations. With just four seasons to date, I surmise that Die Neue These isn’t even halfway through its storyline, and I’m looking forward to season five and beyond.

Part of a crop of early/mid ’00s anime that told downbeat, darkly philosophical tales, Ergo Proxy errs a bit too far on the side of philosophizing. (Heck, it has characters named after Ignatius of Loyola, Jacques Derrida, and other famous philosophers.) Its dark, dystopic storyline is existential in the extreme, and as a result, the series often seems far more interested in posing philosophical quandaries than actually telling a cohesive, captivating story filled with characters that you care about. Technically speaking, Ergo Proxy has aged pretty well; the CG-enhanced animation and character designs still look good after two decades, and Yoshihiro Ike’s moody electronic score really does enhance the series’ already considerable mood and atmosphere. Indeed, the series’ sense of style often proves more substantial than its actual substance. Which is ultimately frustrating, though, because what is gleaned when Ergo Proxy sets aside the philosophizing and just focuses on actually telling its story is really cool and intriguing. I can’t help thinking that with a bit more focus and a bit less heavy-handed seriousness, Ergo Proxy could have made its overall points in a much more affecting and entertaining manner. (Read my review)

I’ve never played Dota 2, the game on which this Netflix series is based. That didn’t matter much with previous seasons, but the third season seems to dive really deeply into game lore, with the assumption that viewers are familiar with it. I was not. I loved the animation, designs, world building, etc., but felt completely lost in the last few episodes, story-wise. The finale is obviously meant to be epic and emotional, but it fell flat for me. I suspect, however, that Dota 2 players might have a very different experience.

Cyberpunk: Edgerunners is ultra-stylish and ultra-graphic — much like Love, Death & Robots, it’s definitely not safe for kids — with some truly stunning animated action. (Kudos to Studio Trigger.) It occasionally wrestles with some deeper themes re. technology’s impact on humanity, but Ghost in the Shell it most certainly is not. Sometimes it feels like an edgy tragedy thanks to its melancholy tone, while other times, it’s all about the nihilistic excess. Your mileage will most definitely vary.

I didn’t like this as much as the first season. I like fantastical world building, but it felt like they crammed in way too much into this season. As a result, everything felt rushed and half-baked. But there’s still enough that I like that I’m looking forward to season three.

I’ve never played Dota 2, so I don’t know how well Dota: Dragon’s Blood stacks up to the source material. But as far as high fantasy with elves, dragons, and evil demons go, it’s pretty solid stuff with a suitably elaborate mythology. Also, lots of graphic violence, so definitely not a series for kids. I enjoyed Studio Mir’s work on Voltron: Legendary Defender, and their character designs and animation here feel like a natural evolution.

In this retelling of Beauty and the Beast, a young girl becomes a popular singer in a virtual universe, only to encounter a strange beast-like creature. Story-wise, I think the film tries to do a bit too much, especially in its final act, though its heart is always in the right place. Visually, however, Belle is astounding, thanks to its nigh-seamless blend of cel animation and CGI.

When is a Godzilla title not a Godzilla title? When it’s Godzilla Singular Point. Sure, there are plenty of kaiju and even a version of Jet Jaguar, but it’s bogged down with technobabble about ancient prophecies, extra-dimensional lifeforms, time-bending supercomputers, and something called an “Orthogonal Diagonalyzer.” I guess I want more spectacle from a Godzilla title, and less labyrinthian, Evangelion-esque mythology.