Akemi's Anime World

Akemi’s Anime Blog AAW Blog

Notes and musings on what we’re watching right now, as well as goings-on in Japan.

Last Exile: Fam the Silver Wing Post-viewing Notes

I just watched the final episode of Last Exile: Fam the Silver Wing, and I’m sad.  Sad because the show had so much going for it—sequel to a fantastic predecessor, huge budget, lavish Gonzo visuals with all sorts of ways to show off both animation and art, likable characters, a great world, and all sorts of interesting story things to do with it—and it more or less blew it.

What’s particularly sad to me is that the show isn’t a catastrophe—it’s not Code Geass R2, meandering around shooting itself in the foot before trying to stab itself in the gut for good measure. It starts out plenty interesting, then sets up even more interesting things and brings back some favorite characters.  Then, it just goes wrong somewhere, and it’s not even obvious where.

I think it’s the death by a thousand cuts factor; it blows so many small things that in aggregate the whole show just felt off and aimless by the end.

Some of the big things it trips on are who it doesn’t kill. Dio, of course, should be dead, but isn’t. We don’t even get an excuse of how he survived, and it even does a backstory recap of the original series that ends with him all but dying onscreen… and then doesn’t tell us how he managed to un-fall off of a fast-moving vanship in a deadly storm thousands of feet off the ground when he was in a near-comatose and borderline-suicidal state for good measure. Nothing—which is kind of insulting to the viewer of the original, and thanks to the recap, even new viewers will be thinking, “wait, didn’t he just die at the end of that recap?”

And then there’s (Spoiler!) a general who dies in a big, dramatic, violent way, and his death becomes a big plot point. Who shortly afterward shows up just fine and with a modest fleet to boot. But hey, he has a bandage on his head, so that totally explains it, right? Honestly, that just had me smacking my head, made worse by the fact that there is no way that the other characters wouldn’t have known he survived.

But on a deeper level what bugged me was that the writers blew the interesting power balance of the original for no particularly good reason. In the original, the Guild was incredibly powerful, but they weren’t infallible—their starfish ships could be shot down, albeit not easily, and the final big plan involved regular soldiers essentially bum-rushing their control rooms.  Similarly, the big final battle involved lots of ships, and the ships were necessary—it took everything both sides of the war could muster to make it happen. Bottom line being that it wasn’t just about main character heroics—everybody, even the grunts, were involved. It even gave us a second-tier main character grunt to drive the point home and get us attached to their end of the war.

Here, we start out with sky pirates using tricks to loot poorly-designed battleships, which was fun. But later, the battles end up being one of two things: Two immense fleets of airships blasting away at each other for several minutes, or the Big Bad’s team of proto-Guild supersoldiers killing everything and anything that he throws them at.  The former looked utterly gorgeous, but got boring after a while since there was no real sense of who was winning or losing in the big battles, and no real sense of urgency or meaning to a lot of them—just countless ships blowing each other up waiting for the drama to unfold elsewhere.

And the latter was just annoying. Okay, they’re supermen. But when you have guys breaking down a door with people barricaded on the other side behind bunkers with guns pointed at the doorway ready for them, and they just ninja their way through the wall of bullets to slaughter everyone inside, with knives, that’s just silly. Worse still, the Silvius gets taken out by these guys twice—not only should they have known pretty well what to expect from the Guild, but after the first time you’d think maybe some plan would have been in order to deal with the attack the next time it happens. The main characters had no excuse for not being smarter than that.

It felt deflating and lost all sense of realism in what was trying to be a fantastic but grounded war story. Plus, what does it matter what anybody does when the villain can just push the win button?  (Except for Dio, who of course can take on hordes of the same guys armed with only a knife, which made equally little sense—yes, he’s a supersoldier, but that overpowered is just silly.  Also, seriously—even if you’re super-fast, guns are more effective for killing people.)

And then it just sort of drops them at the end when it doesn’t want the villain to use that particular win button.  Where did they go?  Did Dio kill all of them? Did they get sent home?  Were they flying the starfish (which I assumed were automatic—otherwise they are great supersoldiers but crappy pilots).  We never find out.  At all.

Even that, I might have been willing to forgive, but the whole story seems to just lose focus toward the end.  It’s a story about the messy realities of war, pitfalls of vengeance, and difficult decisions, but it seems to swing between lengthy mass combat sequences and abrupt, slightly illogical personal drama.  It doesn’t take the time to set things up properly, and even less time to follow through on them.

Not that there aren’t good bits in there, or even that the drama isn’t decent—it does some interesting, heavy things—but it doesn’t feel coherent and tightly-constructed, which a series with this scale and budget should.

A bigger issue with the drama is, perhaps, that it doesn’t seem to know what it wants to be.  The first half is rather high adventure—the spunky protagonist, her sidekick navigator, and the out-of-her-element displaced princess doing big, wild capers while huge-scale war-things happen elsewhere.  Getting more serious in the second half is fine, but it not only completely jettisons that sense of adventure, it ignores the main characters themselves.  I actually liked the fact that the energetic 16-year-olds weren’t the ones running the show or saving the world, but the series didn’t seem to know what to do with its title character by that point, so just sort of wedges her into things awkwardly.  A better-written series might have more effectively used her in the way this one was trying—as the proxy idealist being beaten down by the harsh realities of war, and the intractable problems that result from the lives crushed by it—but Fam the Silver Wing just can’t seem to pull it off smoothly.

The original Last Exile was much smoother—it had dark drama, but balanced it well with the sense of adventure and heroism.

Other problems include moderately to severely illogical things like princess Millia being put in direct command of a battleship and indirectly its backing fleet despite having absolutely zip experience as a military leader or airship captain.  Or the villain’s entire plan—it was all pretty obtuse, but I think we were supposed to believe that he, and his sympathetic co-conspirator, were doing terrible things with good intentions.  Assuming so, it didn’t sell that at all (and if not, I have no idea what their plan was).  The final plan was particularly incoherent; as best I can figure, he was trying to pull a Lelouch and become the unifying villain in order to induce everyone else to work together and/or destroy the entire world’s military capacity in the process.  Which doesn’t make any sense when you try to line that up with what he actually does, or even the logic of doing so by needlessly creating tens of thousands of widows and orphans in the process—widows and orphans who, in any remotely logical world, will now despise his entire country).  And if he did intend to wipe out the world’s military capability, he conspicuously left about a half-dozen super weapons floating up in the sky.  (That was another plot hole—where are all the other Exile keys?  Did their bloodlines die out?)

(Speaking of Lelouch,  Jun Fukuyama is actually in the show, though playing somebody other than the main villain, and somewhat against type at that, though just as good as always.)

It becomes particularly incoherent when it tries to humanize the villains—something it works very hard at—who are for all practical purposes unsympathetic genocidal monsters, and illogical ones at that when we see what the “final plan” was supposed to be.  Millia’s sister, in particular, never makes the slightest bit of sense, despite about half an episode of exposition spent trying to do so.

Contrast all that with the original Last Exile, which had some messy morals, and did the same basic theme of young, nonviolent people trying to come to grips with the need to defend their homeland, but in a way that made sense. And the villain, while pretty much a stock “evil, narcissistic maniac,” made sense as well, given the “overseers gone native” theme with the Guild, who had essentially forgotten their purpose and let their power go completely to their head in a Lord of the Flies/Thunderdome, “only the strongest will rule” sort of way.  While a little shallower in terms of motives and morals, at least it made sense, and felt consistent and coherent.  It also made the final battle gripping and exciting, instead of sort of deflating and vague.

Finally, there’s the weird pacing.  The beginning is relaxed, but toward the end it seems to lurch around randomly.  One episode in particular left me and my co-watchers scratching our heads wondering if we’d accidentally skipped half the episode—it seems to skip an entire battle and main-character adventure in the middle.  Overall the effect is that it walks along at a leisurely pace for a dozen episodes, then suddenly starts furiously jogging for the finish line, occasionally tripping over some side-story.  It felt like it was a couple of episodes too short, which it basically is; it’s only 21 episodes long, 23 if you count the two recap episodes (one of which is utterly pointless—it happens after episode 9, and half the recap just happened).

When you put all that together, it just weighs the series down, making you care less about what’s happening, and wondering where the series you started watching went.

To its credit, it does a lot of things right, too, which is why it’s so frustrating when it blows it:

The Glacians—effectively Russians—are the one exception to the murky-middle-ground characters; they had their country, and for all practical purposes their religion, destroyed, and are viciously bitter about it.  Bitter, but understandably and somewhat sympathetically so—they make sense as characters, and are quite interesting.

After opening with 16 year olds stealing entire battleships—which was entertaining but a little overboard—it tones down what they’re allowed and able to do drastically once fleets start duking it out.  That was refreshing.

The world is fascinating; the sense of lost technology and history, the implied backstory about exodus from a ravaged planet being reversed into a return to a promised land rife with strife, and all sorts of entertaining mechanics with the airships.

It looks utterly gorgeous.  The settings are imaginative and beautifully painted, the characters colorful and interesting, the character animation is wonderful, and the CG-enhanced flight sequences and epic battles are amazing when they’re not devolving into endless volleys of artillery.  The mechanical design is also fantastic, although it’s hard to forgive the impractical design of the battleships; in the original, they were supposed to be impractical—war was carried out by overly-well-defined rules and musket lines, Revolutionary War era style, but here, they’re actually, you know, trying to make effective battleships.  At least in theory.

The acting is from solid to quite good. And I love the consistency with the language; the Glacians speak Russian, and the one we have the most exposure to speaks no Japanese (or whatever language they’re assumed to be speaking—all the writing is in Greek), nor does the title character speak any Russian.  Instead of hand-waiving past this, she only ever speaks Russian, and other characters consistently need to translate for them—which it never skips past, unless nobody is bothering to translate, which is itself part of the characterization.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that was that consistent and realistic with a language barrier.

Some of the little emotional bits are wonderful and powerful. My favorite was subtle; when Millia is explaining, to herself, that she has no choice but to kill her sister, a mother—not her mother, though a bit of a surrogate—who is with her hugs her in sympathy for the burden she bears. It’s effective because she doesn’t just embrace her, she rushes to her, as if she doesn’t want to waste another instant once she realizes how much Millia is suffering.  I remember that more than anything else in the episode.

While it’s incredibly annoying that Lavie and Claus were written out of the series because of whatever accident happened to Claus in the manga (I assume), everything else that shows up from old times is great.  Tatiana and her navigator are great Silvius commanders, Alvis is good, and when the joint Anatory-Disith fleet shows up at the end the whole finale improves noticeably.  The end battle was, of course, something of a clone of the original, sans logic, but at least it picked up from the endless broadsides previously.

The background music, by the same crew, is equally good, particularly when the old-school forces show up and it brings out the triumphant horn themes that existing fans know and love. The opening and ending, however, are unfortunate; they’re good songs, but disappointingly generic—they sound like good modern anime songs, instead of weird, slightly-alien, ear-grabbing songs like the original.  Really just not up to snuff relative to the rest of the setting and design theme.

I’ll tell you what they should have done: The second half—if not the whole thing—should have been told entirely from the perspective of the returnees from Anatory and Disith. Just about everything would have worked better.  That, and it probably should have been about 4 episodes longer, although the way things were going those four episodes would have been entirely composed of ships of the line shooting each other.

Oh, and I don’t want to hear about how all the illogical plot holes are hand-waved away in the connecting single-volume manga.  Even if it did so successfully, there is no excuse for not putting that material on screen, at least in a flashback episode.

Anyway, I don’t feel bad having watched it, but I feel like somebody wrecked what could have been a fantastic series.

Dragon Warrior Does The Real World

I don’t generally comment on such things, but this year’s Google April fool joke is about as close to an anime reference as they’re likely to get—they’ve added a full-globe 8-bit Dragon Warrior homage to Google Maps, including wandering monsters.

Thus far I’ve run across a Goldman hiding in the mountains near Red Bluff, CA, a bigfoot (not technically a DW1 enemy) near Mt. Everest, A Demon Knight near Dhurkot, Nepal, and a Wolflord near Gretna, UK.

There are also custom icons for lots of famous landmarks—Mt. Fuji, Tokyo Tower, the White House, and such. Japan’s trees are cherry trees, as well.

Amusing unintended reference: For those familiar with the classic NES game Nobunaga’s Ambition (there’s a jazzed-up version for iOS now), you might remember that Shingen’s home town in the region west of Tokyo is Kai. Well, I do, anyway, because I was playing as him having no idea that I’d be marrying into the region fifteen years later. In modern times there’s a municipal area in Yamanashi still called that, although it only shows up at one particular zoom level. When I went to poke around the area, I saw a town labeled Kai, which immediately brought back fond memories of conquering Japan in 8-bit style.

Secret World of Arrietty Notes

I finally got to the theater last weekend to see Arrietty. Planning on reviewing it properly after I see it a second time, but figured I’d jot down a few notes in the meanwhile.

I remember liking The Borrowers as a kid, and having re-read it a little while ago I can see why—it’s thoroughly entertaining even as an adult, with just enough mix of whimsy and practicality to tickle my fancy, and a good sense of pacing and small-scale (ha!) adventure. Being written a long time ago, and set around the turn of the prior century, it’s also got some great old-fashioned flavor, both in the mechanics and dialogue.

Arrietty the movie isn’t really a direct adaptation. The basic framework is the same—strong-willed teenaged tiny person named Arrietty and her parents live under a rich old lady’s house, and when a sickly boy comes to convalesce, she gets spotted by him and develops something of a relationship. Past that, very little—the setting is modern Japan, the boy is older and sicker, the particulars and large-scale stuff in the plot is different, as is most of the endgame. Even the relationship is quite a bit different; in the book, Arrietty is a few years older than the 9-year-old boy, and somewhat more confident.

The movie versions are the same age, which adds a very subtle undercurrent of potential romance, and it’s the thinking-too-much-about-death boy with the existential crisis, rather than Arrietty, who in the book is afraid that the Borrowers are a dying race and both awed and terrified of the incredible scale of the world outside her basement world. (That last part I really, really liked in the book—it acts as an incisive metaphor for a human who’s been living in the here-and-now having their eyes opened by science to the incredible scale of the universe; there’s a chance this was intentional given that the book was being written right around the period when science was broadening the horizons of what was known rapidly. I missed that in the movie, but it’s not a real complaint, since I can see how it didn’t fit with the differing narrative)

So the movie isn’t the book, but unlike some things I can say that about, that’s not really a bad thing. It has its own story to tell, an even more narrow focus on that story, and it does a wonderfully entertaining job of it. One of the reasons I want to see it again is that I want to watch it without unconsciously looking for where it lined up—or didn’t—with the novel. It’s easy to think “watch it as its own thing,” but it’s pretty much impossible to make yourself actually do that in the space of 90 minutes in the theater. (Give me a few episodes of a TV show, then I can get past comparisons.)

The film isn’t directed by Miyazaki, but he did do the screenplay. Which has to me become something close to a liability; as a director and visual storyteller, Miyazaki is a genius of the medium, but both Howl’s Moving Castle and Ponyo worked so hard to dump an epic framework on top of a small-scale adventure that it was sort of painful to watch. And, while I love happy endings, both of those made that forced epic-ness seem cheap and shallow with ridiculously simplified conclusions.

Arrietty does not do any of those things. It is a tiny adventure made grand simply by how tiny it is, not any sort of artificial inflation, and the ending is bittersweet and in no way overly tidy—if anything, a little too much so. Finally Miyazaki is back to his Totoro and Kiki’s Delivery Service form, doing no more and no less than the story requires, with admirable focus and an abundance of heart and spirit.

As for the actual director, Hiromasa Yonebayashi has been an animator for Ghibli for years, but this is his first time at the helm, and he does a great job with the reins. Because of what the story is about—the adventure everyday objects become from the perspective of tiny people—his intense focus on the visuals, and the sense of motion and scale, works perfectly here.

Now, let’s face it—if it’s a Ghibli film, you pretty much know it’s going to be gorgeous. And when the list of assistant animation studios includes BONES, GAINAX, Gonzo, and Madhouse… yikes. Interestingly, unlike Ponyo, Arrietty is not a particularly “lively” movie—there’s a deliberateness to the action, and much of the incredible beauty of the movie comes from the texture of microscopic objects, the perspective on them, as well as light and color. None of which is a bad thing—it works perfectly, and is perfectly beautiful in its own unusual way. I’d expect no less, really—if anybody can turn the crawlspace under a house into art, it’s Ghibli.

What I liked most about the art, though, was the realism in the scale. Most notably, when the Borrowers pour liquids, the surface tension behaves properly, so the tea comes out in giant drops, not a stream—the only thing I can ever remember getting that right was A Bug’s Life. Which seems appropriate, since Pixar is about as close as the US has to Ghibli. It also occasionally does good things with switching perspective between tiny person and large one, with the previously-normal motions suddenly becoming huge, slow, and ponderous from the perspective of a Borrower—great stuff. The only realistic thing it didn’t do—which the book, shockingly, got exactly right from a physics standpoint—was show Arrietty’s voice as being very high-pitched when heard from a distance by the boy. Which I can forgive, since it’d have been hard to pull off.

Speaking of voices, Disney’s dub is good; Arrietty and her parents are both cast and acted perfectly, and the boy’s casting is also spot-on, with a subdued, deflated delivery that fits his illness and onscreen manner. My only complaint is that he’s so flat that he occasionally comes across as a little stiff, but that’s minor. Well, that, and they seem to go out of their way to pronounce the T in Arrietty, which sounds a bit artificial for no particular reason.

My one other complaint—not shared by Akemi, I might add—was a minor one about the story when viewed as pure narrative structure. This is something of a spoiler, so you know. From an abstracted standpoint, we had in the past Borrowers who were seen by the humans of the house; the humans tried to help by building a perfect dollhouse for them to use, but the Borrowers fled, never to be seen again, and the humans were terribly disappointed. A generation later, the son of the human comes to the house and spots the remaining Borrowers, and again tries to befriend them. Unlike before, the headstrong Arrietty does not flee, but instead tries to befriend him.

The issue is that, as it plays out, they still leave (and were planning on it before things went south with the help, the movie’s villain), without ever taking any advantage of the boy’s kindness. So instead of closing the narrative loop, so to speak—with the boy following through on what his parent failed to—things turn out more or less exactly as they did before, with a bit more understanding. Now, a happy, “we live in the fancy dollhouse now” ending wouldn’t have gone well with the general feel of the movie, so that’s fine. It’s just that they set up a narrative closure to happen, then didn’t close it. Made a bit worse by the fact that, as the plot ended up, there really wasn’t any reason other than misunderstanding for them not to do that—at least until the old lady died some day, there was absolutely nobody in the house who was going to do them harm now, the people there already knew they existed, and there wasn’t any sort of connection established with the Borrowers elsewhere (or even Arrietty’s parents wanting her to meet other people) to make them want to leave.

This is an interesting contrast with the book. The book never set up that narrative callback to begin with. And even if it had, in the book, things do go well for a while, as the Borrowers accept the boy’s kindness, and enjoy it. Then when things go bad, there is a very good reason for them to leave, permanently. There’s even a stronger connection established with the Borrowers they’re going to—they’re family, and have exchanged some (very) brief letters previously.

That said, this is a pretty minor nitpick, and others probably won’t notice or will feel that it did what it should have. It just struck me, personally, since I was analyzing it.

Last thought: The movie is very adventurous, but it’s interesting that it has a definite sense of melancholy throughout. From relatively early on, Arrietty’s parents are planning on abandoning their home, and it’s obvious to everybody involved that Arrietty and Sean/Shou (the boy) won’t ever have the opportunity for a long-term relationship, friendly or otherwise. The finale, as advertised, involves them escaping their happy home to somewhere far away and unknown; I won’t exactly call it sad, but it’s certainly melancholy and feels rather heavy. None of which are a bad thing, but for a movie of such whimsy it’s interesting that it feels heavier than most Ghibli films, particularly at the end. Or maybe I’m just sappy.

In any case, it’s nice after a couple of “Yes it’s beautiful and all, but…” Ghibli films, where the artistry was covering up for the plot, to have one I can say almost entirely good things about. I can’t quite call it a Kiki’s Delivery Service or Whisper of the Heart-scale triumph, and it’s not a Nausicaa or Princess Mononoke masterpiece, but I’m pretty confident in years to come it’ll be counted among Ghibli’s greats, and deservedly so.

Hey, you know what I want to see? A Borrowers anime TV series. Put even a half-decent writer on it, have, say, BONES or Brain’s Base animate it, and you’d have something worth a dozen or two episodes.