Recommended CLASA +A

	Dirty Pair

Have a problem? Don't mind your planet being blown up as part of the solution? Then perhaps you should call the Lovely Angels - otherwise known as the Dirty Pair - to solve it. This show revolves around Kei and Yuri, two lovely teenagers who work for WWWA, an organization that will look into anything for the right price. Episodes vary, but most are extremely funny, especially if you like the "girls with big guns" genre of anime. It's actually more popular in the States among fans than it is in Japan.

	Fullmetal Alchemist

There are just a handful of times when an animated television series lives up to what the medium can do. Cowboy Bebop did it. Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex did it. Macross did it. And though there are more, suffice it to say that another title should be added to these ranks: Fullmetal Alchemist. In its 51 episodes, we get humor, drama, horror, and pathos packaged together in a lovely combination that, while not for children despite its look, is among the best anime series ever created.

Edward and Alphonse Elric aren't exactly your typical brothers. The older Ed, a short fellow who's constantly picked on for his height, is missing an arm and a leg; the younger Al appears for all the world to be a suit of armor. On top of their odd appearance, they are alchemists par excellence. In their world, the law of equivalent exchange rules, and alchemists can use the materials around them to manipulate their environment. There's only one rule to alchemy: the dead cannot be brought back to life.

In a desperate attempt to break that rule, the brothers lost body and limbs to the void, and they are determined to get them back. How? They seek the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary gem that can supposedly get around the truth of equivalent exchange and could restore their original forms. But to find the stone, they will have to become a part of the military establishment...something that Edward takes as a necessary evil. As they take on strange homunculi and other alchemists determined to have the stone for themselves, they will discover the dark secrets of alchemy that will forever alter their lives and the lives of those they love.

Fullmetal Alchemist is a tasty package from start to finish. Though it is not as gorgeous, perhaps, as the very cream of the televised crop of anime, it always looks perfect for what it is supposed to be. Because the character designs are not hyper-realistic and the humor often exaggerates those designs, expecting it to look like Ghost in the Shell misses the point. The opening songs are loud and boisterous rock tunes that set the show's tone; I can't say the closing songs ever impressed me, but I'm not a fan of girly J-Pop. Though the score is not a standout, it effectively underscores the proceedings.

But what makes Fullmetal Alchemist a dramatic powerhouse is its ability to run the gambit of emotions in a single episode. There are often a few goofy moments in each segment, but they never feel out of place. When the time is right, though, the story can turn serious in an instant. The fact that Fullmetal Alchemist can pull off hysterical comedy and tragic pathos in a half-hour is astounding. Although it's often funny, this is not a program for children. Despite the cheerful tone, this sucker has dark, dark themes throughout, and it has some graphic violence that, when used for effect, hits like a prizefighter. Though the kids will have to wait for it, the concepts discussed are deeply moral and ethical, which makes the show even more powerful. Not only does Fullmetal Alchemist raise personal questions - for example, what lengths you would go to in order that a loved one might return from the dead - but it covers topics ranging from familial loyalty and military principles to religion, racism, and genocide. The humorous bits actually work to make the philosophical underpinnings palatable: I came in for a good story, laughed often, and got a lot more besides.

Fullmetal Alchemist starts out deceptively simple. At first, it appears that the audience is in for a simple journeyman show. However, over the course of the two seasons, the complexity of the whole becomes apparent. There are few chance meetings in this world; indeed, characters who show up in early episodes as part of episodic adventures often reappear in the concluding third of the series. At first, this seems confusing as characters the audience met twenty episodes back suddenly return; however, it adds a huge dimension of rewatchability as the pieces fit into place upon review. The layered nuances of Fullmetal Alchemist make it a joy to watch.

But you know what I like best about the show? The interplay between Edward and Al. The dub is absolutely superb, even better than the Japanese track, and through it I genuinely felt for these two throughout the show. In casting 12-year-old Aaron Dismuke for the role of Al, the crew made a brilliant choice. He brings the perfect feel of someone on the cusp of adolescence to the role, and he's utterly believable as a boy trapped in a suit of armor wanting just to be a happy youngster again. Meanwhile, veteran Vic Mignogna as Ed captures the fire of the determined yet hardened young man who has seen too much for his years. Although the original animation goes a long way to establishing the relationship between the two brothers, the English voice actors take it up a notch. And when things slow down a little after episode 26, which is the start of the second season of episodes, it's these two that kept me interested.

I also have to admit that the ending of the show is amazing. Over the course of three busy days, I watched the last 14 episodes, it was just that good. Although there is that little blip I mentioned that wasn't quite as engaging, the last section is rock solid. The only problem I would mention, and it's minor, is that the show does not end with episode 51. Although some plot threads are complete, the show finishes on what I can only call an interlude cliffhanger - no one is in real danger, but there are HUGE things to be resolved. The Fullmetal Alchemist movie, due out in the fall of 2006 in the U.S., will hopefully conclude things well. (Although it's available now illegally via Bit Torrent sources, I am showing restraint and willpower and waiting for FUNimation to get this film out...NOW.)

There's little else I can say about Fullmetal Alchemist other than wow. Though it is a cliché to say, it is an instant classic you will not regret adding to your collection if you appreciate great storytelling, compelling characters, and rich ethical discussion put together in an entertaining package.

	Haibane Renmei

Even when a show is championed by critics, there's no guarantee that it will be a hit. Though I've been hearing about Haibane Renmei for a couple of years now, the chatter's only been coming from folks I know and respect in the anime reviewing community. With a script from the creator of Serial Experiments Lain, Yoshitoshi Abe, I knew it would likely be intriguing. So why was the buzz so low? Perhaps it's because Haibane Renmei is everything that more brutish anime fans won't touch...it's quiet, contemplative, slow, with nary a robot in sight. Like its predecessor, there are more mysteries than answers throughout the whole of the program. And yet, despite how much I enjoyed Lain, there's more sense to this show, more wonder and awe. If Lain was a melancholy dive into the recesses of the Internet, Haibane Renmei is a gently compelling piece of sunlight that has touches of both sadness and joy.

A young girl is falling...falling...ever falling, with a raven as her only companion. Where is she? Why is she in this cloudy descent? Suddenly, she finds herself scraping at a wall of goo that, when broken, leads into the real world -- at least, that is, the real world of the Haibane. Like humans only with halos and small wings on their backs, the Haibane hatch from cocoons. Our heroine, whom the other Haibane name Rakka, is now one of them. She can remember how to talk and how to ride a bike, but any memories of the past before hatching from the cocoon are gone.

As Rakka starts to get used to this strange new world, she learns that the Haibane live in the outskirts of a city. No one leaves the walls of their town; only a group of traders are ever allowed in. The Haibane live a simple existence, working for those in the town willing to take on their services. One works at the bakery; another minds the "young feathers" who sometimes hatch at an early age. Though their appearance is different from the humans, no one seems to mind them. There are lots of little rules to their world, but all seems well enough...no crime, no problems, just a day to day satisfaction. Rakka starts going to work with each of the other Haibane, and she grows fond of them. Still, she wonders what her life used to be, and what lies beyond the walls...

From my perspective, Haibane Renmei is a unique show not because we haven't seen its components before, but because they've never been put together quite like this. The simplicity and realism of life is not that far from shows like Piano or Boys Be..., yet the angelic figures are striking, having a relatively mundane existence despite being creatures with no history and a lot of questions. The show moves with such grace and elegance that I didn't mind that it took a long time to introduce the characters and their roles. It's deliberate in its measured approach, which continues throughout the series.

Part of the reason for this has to do with the musical score, which is absolutely beautiful. The music for Lain was a key ingredient; the opening and endings set the tone. All the more here! I couldn't help but listen each time to Haibane Renmei's closing theme, both haunting and beautiful, and the instrumental piece that opens the program is also impressive. Though I didn't notice the music within the show itself very much, it works to establish a sweet and melancholy feel. Animation freaks will not be quite as impressed. The artwork is consistent and the models stay on target, but it's not particularly detailed. There's a slight fuzziness from time to time which I believe to be the intent of the creators, but it might annoy some folks.

But is a show with no answers worth watching? In the case of Haibane Renmei, it is. Ultimately, without spoiling some of the key moments, the show is a voyage, one of redemption and one of acceptance, one of conquering fears and past sins and realizing forgiveness. Many of the questions that rose in the first volume are never answered in any clear way, but it winds up being OK. For part of the story of Haibane Renmei is about dealing with a world we didn't create. The angels never really learn why they are in their town, and they do not learn why they eventually go off into the woods to disappear forever in what is known as their "day of flight." They do not learn what is beyond the walls. But in a very real way, this is a metaphor for our own human existence. As a Christian studying to be a pastor, I do have a specific set of beliefs that inform me as to who I am and where I am going, and they give me at very least a spiritualized history of salvation and human destiny. But in a very real sense, we do not understand much of why we are who we are, born into the stations in life we have, and we have only the slightest notions of what waits beyond the walls of our own mortal existence. Haibane Renmei does not answer the questions of its characters' existence, but it describes that existence in such a way that both they as characters and we as an audience can appreciate it. Ultimately, Haibane Renmei may look like a story about angels, but it's really a story about us.

And even if all this sounds too theological or philosophical or heady, you should watch this show because it is so very well told. It's in the small touches that the show succeeds. It's in the static electricity that keeps Rakka's hair permanently attracted to her halo. It's in the gal who uses a halo maker to help her bakery make donuts. And it's in the yearning gaze of Rakka who wants to know the answers to all her questions. It is simple enough to be appreciated by a child but complex enough to send the mind spinning. It is beautifully subtle. And subtle, frankly, is just not seen enough in anime.

There are very few shows as special as Haibane Renmei in the world. This is a work that I wish would break beyond the barriers of the animation world because it is touching and personal, far beyond the average. It may not work for those who want anime to fulfill their every stereotype, but for me, this was a blessing...one that can make you believe that angels with tiny wings might just fly.

	The Irresponsible Captain Tylor Vol. 1

Finally! Even the most cynical reviewer gets tired of giving out low ratings and my recent findings were only good at best--and often, much worse. I am most happy to report that the streak is over. If the whole series is like the first two episodes of The Irresponsible Captain Tylor, I have a new boxed set to buy.

The first episode introduces the title character, Justy Ueki Tyler, who decides to join the United Planets Space Force. He does so because he believes that military service will be an incredibly easy life--free food, free uniforms, lots of women, and prestige to boot--and he's determined to maintain his lifestyle of being a complete sloth. The plot for the series is set in short order--the UPSF is at war with the Raalgon Empire and both sides are trying to line up their forces to see if they have what it takes to defeat the other. We know that this conflict will eventually absorb the series, but getting there is all the fun. In the first episode, Tyler blows out the central UPSF computer system while attempting to seduce the AI system that's trying to get his psychological profile! In the second episode, Tyler is assigned to the pension division and there's an old general whose address has changed. Tyler goes to deliver his check to him in person only to find that he's been kidnapped by terrorists. Tyler does everything wrong and nearly gets everyone killed, but in a twist of fate ends up becoming a hero.

This show is so funny that I can't even describe it fully. If you enjoy comedy and don't mind a vaguely science fiction setup, this is a must have. I doubt you'll want to rent it as you'll be wasting a few bucks that you could use to buy your own copy.

	Lupin III: Plot of the Fuma Clan

Amongst anime fans in the know, The Castle Of Cagliostro is considered to be the one must-see Lupin III film. Although there are tons of other movies and OVAs in the canon, Miyazaki's take on the gentleman thief and his friends is a perennial favorite. However, if I were to take on the argument that there is a better Lupin film out there than Cagliostro, it would be in favor of Plot of the Fuma Clan. At 75 minutes (and in actuality an OVA release), it's one of the shorter entries, and it is not the most action-packed, funniest, or cunningly plotted film. It is, however, the only one in my mind that combines those three elements in equal combination, giving the audience the "perfect" Lupin experience.

Goemon, Lupin's legendary swordsman friend, is about to get married. Murasaki, his bride, is a sweet girl far removed from the stoic seriousness of her husband-to-be. But as their wedding commences, a clan of ninjas breaks in and plays keep-away with a priceless ancient pot that's been in Murasaki's family for generations. Unable to wrest the jar away, the ninjas instead steal Murasaki, demanding the container as ransom. But the vessel is more than an heirloom; it contains the key to a vast treasure. As Lupin and company find out, there's plenty of danger on the road to a hidden fortune, especially when Inspector Zenigata comes out of retirement as a Buddhist monk to pursue the nemesis he thought was dead!

Although Fuma is not quite as skillfully animated as Cagliostro, having neither its budget nor its adroit director, it still looks wonderfully sharp, and the character designs are great. They still fall under the category of the more cartoonish look for Lupin adventures, rather than the angular hard lines some of the programs use for a more manga-esque look. Frankly, it's this style of Lupin I love looking at.

But so many more elements shine in Fuma. Many Lupin III features suffer from bloat, even (in my opinion) Cagliostro. Often, they wind up about 20 minutes longer than they need to be. Fuma cuts out all the fat, making for the trimmest, leanest Lupin I've seen. And though others have more outright humor or action, they tend to overdo it. Fuma is perfectly paced and told.

It's nice, for once, to see another character really take the spotlight, as Goemon does here. Although the other friends are around for the whole tale, Goemon takes center stage, a brilliant change from his woeful underutilization in other entries. The relationship he has with Murasaki is light and innocent, a far cry from the ribald exchanges between Lupin and Fujiko in the other movies. It's not quite romance, but it has more of that element than virtually any of the other Lupin material I've seen. It's also wonderful to see Zenigata having a reason to act like a madman in pursuit of his prey; after believing his life had lost its meaning in Lupin's apparent demise, Zenigata is re-energized and thankfully so.

And the car chases! Did I mention those? In this entry, there are several, all of them fun and all of them important, yet not overly long. Those brisk pursuits give the film plenty of energy. And yet, unlike most Lupin adventures, this feels less like a James Bond flick and more like Indiana Jones. The excitement and change of style is palpable and welcome. Although some might pick on the silliness of the police, here shown as nothing more than a gigantic herd of Keystone Cops, they are incredibly funny. And that's about the hardest criticism I can find against this one.

Lupin III: Plot of the Fuma Clan is great. Any Lupin fan should pick it up, and those curious to get in on the action of the mischievous scoundrel and his pals must see it.

	Macross '84: Do You Remember Love?

There are very few things that I know of on this earth that I consider to be true treasures, but I consider Macross '84 to be one of them. You're not likely to find many other reviewers who think this--in fact, I've seen several sites that have completely panned this picture--but it's likely they've never seen the movie the way it was intended. In its original, untouched form, Macross '84: Do You Remember Love? is truly a beautiful, magnificent film. Those who only know Macross from its butchered inclusion in Robotech will be in for a great surprise, for this is truly one of the misunderstood classics of anime.

Macross '84 is a cinematic retelling of the 36 episode series of the same name. Although it essentially covers the same ground as the television show, it does so with superb animation and an incredible score. For those not in the know, Macross is the name of a spaceship that crashlands on the earth in 1999. Ten years later, the actual owners of the craft, the Zentraedi, come to reclaim it, and they are willing to destroy all of humanity to get it back. What they don't expect, however, is the power of protoculture--that is, human culture--and music in particular stops them in their tracks. Mankind's only hope is to wage war not only with its armaments, but also with the very things that make us human. Although this conflict is central to the plot of the show, it would be nothing without the love triangle that defines the core of Macross. Lynn Minmei, a young girl destined to become an idol singer, falls for the handsome young pilot Hikaru Ichijo. However, there's also the dutybound lieutenant Misa Hayase, whose harsh exterior masks a deep longing for Hikaru's love. The three lives intertwine against the backdrop of intergalactic war that may require their ultimate sacrifice.

The first thing to know is that this film really isn't for the uninitiated, though anyone can appreciate it. The television series gives us plenty of time to learn who the characters are and what motivates them, and relationships develop at a reasonable pace. However, there's only two hours to get the movie done, and so the timeframe is incredibly compressed. For example, in the series, Hikaru and Minmei meet before she's ever really picked up a microphone; in the film, Minmei is an accomplished singing star well before Hikaru comes on the scene. Viewers will also find that certain characters aren't developed at all but show up anyway, and the plot goes by very quickly--again, another reason to watch the series first. Finally, if you're not familiar with the show, you'll also find the scads of music a bit surprising...for an action-oriented film, there's a ton of Japanese pop. (It's very good Japanese pop, too, but this will throw off some viewers.)

Nevertheless, what the movie does is nothing short of amazing. The relationships in the film are not only more adult, but more compelling and realistic than those in the original. In the TV series, Minmei is played as a bit spoiled (and this is very true in the incarnation most are familiar with through Robotech). In the film, Minmei is free-spirited, but she isn't nearly as coy or annoying--she's simply more grown up. This makes the triangle more poignant in that you can't help but feel sorry for whoever gets left behind. The film captures the essence of the series very well. The animation itself looks clean and refined, and though it comes from the 80s school of realistic (if muted) colors, it is perfect for the setting and tone of the storyline. The characters look absolutely beautiful, and the designs from this film remain my favorite character designs to date. What's more, the score is absolutely superb. It's fully orchestrated, and the sweeping grandeur of the music is an unexpected compliment to Minmei's songs through the show. There is a combination of drama, action, and music that is simply perfect. As a personal aside...I became a fan of anime through Robotech, but Macross '84 was the first real anime title I ever saw. When I first saw it, I was absolutely stunned. Not only did it meet my wildest expectations, it shattered my perceptions of what animation could be. This film was and still is a big part of the inspiration that has led me to collect anime seriously for over twelve years, and indirectly gave me reason to create an anime review in the first place.

There is a prime reason why this film has not received the acclaim it deserves, however, and that is because it is impossible at this point in time to find a licensed version of the film with English subtitles. There are English-language versions available, but the only known dub was done in Australia as an instructional tool to help Japanese viewers learn English. It is by and large considered the worst anime dub ever created. The most well-known distribution of this film in the English-speaking world is a recut version called Clash of the Bionoids. Not only does this travesty use the Australian dub, but it removes over a half hour of footage from the film. There is a ten second shower scene that could have been removed without trimming the plot. However, this version removes every single section of action from the movie as well as some longer dramatic portions, leaving it almost completely unintelligible--and perhaps even more boring than Odin. Meanwhile, the Japanese laserdisc includes the full film with the Aussie dub as a second language track. I've seen the entire film this way, and although it is certain better in that the film itself is intact, the delivery of the dialogue is so stilted that one can't help to concentrate on it. It tends to ruin what is a magnificent show...and from what I can tell, most web reviewers have only seen one of these two dubbed versions.

Here's the bottom line: if you saw and liked the Macross television show, or even its counterpart in Robotech, you should see this film, hopefully with good fansubs. Even if you haven't seen Macross before, it's well worth the effort if you can find a subbed copy. I've shown this movie to science-fiction fans with no knowledge of anime or the TV show whatsoever, and they've enjoyed it a great deal. No matter your background with the Macross universe, it is a piece of anime history that you should see in its unadulterated form.

	Marmalade Boy

Every now and then, a show seems just right from the very start. It's rare, but these things do happen in anime. I can't claim to have seen all of Marmalade Boy--getting through several of the opening episodes, I'm just getting started, since there are 76 episodes to the TV series, as well as a movie. However, there are series that pull you in far enough that you can't wait to watch the next tape. For me, Macross was one, and Orange Road was another. I am very certain Marmalade Boy will be one of these, as well. Although it's not available in the States yet, it's getting a larger following, and this show deserves the trip across the Pacific.

What is Marmalade Boy, exactly? Well, it's a romantic comedy...but it's got plenty of drama, and a little bit of goofiness, and lots of fun any way you look at it. The title itself isn't much to draw you in, but rest assured it has little to do with what is going on. As the show starts, Miki is a rather ordinary high school junior who is just beginning to sort through her feelings about Ginta. They had a relationship a while back, and though certain events conspired to bring it down, they are becoming good friends again. Lightning strikes, however, when her parents come back from their vacation with some...hmm...disturbing news. (I won't spoil what exactly happens, since what happens is hysterically funny, IMHO.) With this news comes a new boy into town, Yuu, and Miki's not sure what to make of him. He is attractive, smart, fun, but also arrogant and oh-so-difficult to truly understand. Why is she so uncertain of who she really loves? Add a few wrinkles in the mix, some ex-girlfriends, a dash of melodrama, and away we go!!

If you've ever watched Orange Road, you've got a clear picture of the road down which Marmalade Boy is to travel. It's plenty of fun--and the first episode had me howling--but there's also a real understanding of what it is to be a teenager in love for the first time. In comparison to Orange Road, though (and I say this as a big KOR fan), Marmalade Boy gets off the ground running and doesn't let up for air. KOR meandered through some episodes, and I'm sure that eventually this show will too, but Marmalade Boy knows how to start off right. I've liked several shows I've watched recently--enough to give them A ratings--but this is one of the few that just cries out to be watched. You can't help yourself! On any sort of down side, the animation is typical of TV series in the early 90s. It's certainly not bad, but it isn't spectacular. That isn't distracting, though...as I said recently when I reviewed Arcadia Of My Youth, a great story and smart characters can make up for just acceptable animation.

Bottom line? From watching the first few hours of this show, it's solidly entertaining. I would write more, but I need to track down a fansubber to get the rest of this one. I have the great feeling it will be worth the effort.

	Memories

The brilliance of art is simplicity. The best art tells us something about ourselves, makes us think, and focuses our attention on the unconscious which nevertheless invades our daily lives. One could argue if Memories is really art, I suppose, though all of its artistic parts are equally excellent. However, Memories is the kind of anime that I wanted to watch when I first became fascinated with Japanese animation back 17 years ago. Katsuhiro Otomo, director/creator of Akira, takes us through three separate worlds of his creation. He only directs one of the three segments, and each has its own unique style, form, and concept, but his seasonings are evident throughout. It is not conventional in story form, in artistic style, or musical leanings, but it strikes a unique, emotional chord that convention cannot attain. Animated films like Memories give reviewers the resolve to slog through countless hours of lesser shows; it's movies like Memories that remind us that these pictures of paint and celluloid can become so much more in our mind's eye.

To say much about the three individual stories spoils a bit of the mystery, so I will keep my descriptions to a minimum. The first short, "Magnetic Rose", runs the longest, and is my personal favorite; it chronicles how the Corona, a scavenger vessel in the middle of space, runs into trouble as the crew investigates a distress signal sent by a huge, rotting starship. The second feature, "Stink Bomb", follows a hapless fellow trying to cure his cold, oblivious to the fact that the medicine he's taken is causing a disaster of epic proportions. Finally, the film closes with "Cannon Fodder", Otomo's segment, which creates a new world where the entire populace is dedicated from birth onward to firing gigantic cannons against an unseen foe. Only problem is, when does the firing stop?

Although Memories was released in 1995, it has not aged in any way, just as Akira could have been released yesterday and would still appear fresh. The artistic direction is just stunning, with an incredible level of detail displayed in every segment. How this plays out depends on what the mood of the piece is, but the artwork is noteworthy throughout. Whereas "Stink Bomb" is the closest to Otomo's typical look, "Magnetic Rose" and its sci-fi trappings are particularly impressive in their detail and trappings. By far, though, the most unique segment artistically is "Cannon Fodder". The character design is a mix of Heavy Metal, Ralph Bakshi, and Gerald Scarfe; the world itself takes these artists, combines them with the dirty grandeur of Moebius' cityscapes and filters it all through a brown haze of war. It is unlike virtually anything else in the world of anime. Meanwhile, although the music is also uniformly impressive, Yoko Kanno's work in adapting "Madame Butterfly" for "Magnetic Rose" is exemplary, enough that I scouted out the music online for some time after watching the film. Everything here is magnificent, though each segment is so very different.

Despite all the craftsmanship involved, if it weren't for the significant power of its stories, Memories would be just another movie of the week. "Magnetic Rose", for one, is hauntingly beautiful, the rare piece that makes you think how you would react in similar circumstances while enjoying the superb pacing, the surprising action, and the sweeping score. Meanwhile, "Stink Bomb", despite being the most conventional of the three stories and thus often dismissed unfairly as trivial, has a deep sense of black humor almost completely unseen in anime outside of Otomo's work (see Robot Carnival for some more of it in action). The homage to Dr. Strangelove is readily apparent, and it succeeds at poking fun at a variety of targets--the military, the government, and even to some extent the viewer. Finally, "Cannon Fodder" is easily the most difficult piece, made no easier by its bizarre look. Seeing past that, Otomo makes some veiled statements about the potentials of war and our human nature that prefers to blend with the crowd rather than to put ourselves at risk and to chase after truth. If there is a prevailing theme here, it is not really the concept of memories at all--it is the concept of truth and the ways that we are hurt when we consciously or unconsciously ignore the truth to pursue our own devices. Take a deep look at the film, and you'll understand what I mean.

The sad fact is that, because Katsuhiro Otomo's name is splattered all over this film, its production company wants a ludicrous amount of money to license it in North America, believing the name recognition will be worth the cost. What they do not seem to realize, though, is that the audience that Otomo built on Akira is not the audience who would most appreciate Memories. It would be like expecting the same audiences to appreciate ET and Saving Private Ryan merely because they were both directed by Steven Spielberg. This film can be purchased in the Region 2 DVD format, which includes English subtitles; however, not that many of us have region-free players or the money to spend on importing discs.

All that being said, if you like art films and are willing to examine a movie that doesn't provide you every answer, Memories is simply fantastic. Find a local anime club, borrow a friend's copy, import it--but serious anime connoisseurs need to see this movie. Thought-provoking anime are too hard to find as it is, and this is a must.

	Metropolis

Akira defined science fiction anime for the last ten years. Love it or hate it, the film served as the benchmark anime for film critics and others who would never otherwise see anything within the genre. Although other anime have hit American theaters in limited runs, such as Princess Mononoke, X, and Perfect Blue, very little true sci-fi anime made it to the big screen in the West. But Metropolis has arrived, and though I am still enamored with Akira, we now have the 21st century's first truly epic science fiction anime. It is breathtaking enough in its grandeur to awe us and yet intimate enough in its softer moments to make us care for its characters. It is anime at its finest.

As it opens, we meet Kenichi, a young man on an adventure with his uncle, Shunsaku Ban. They arrive in Metropolis as a grand festival is about to start, heralding the completion of the Ziggurat, an immense building reaching to the heavens. A detective, Shunsaku's on a mission to arrest Dr. Laughton, a dangerous criminal known for bizarre experiments on humans and robots alike. They do find Dr. Laughton, but his laboratory is burned to the ground as they narrowly escape. In the encounter, they meet a mysterious girl without a name. With the robot-chasing Marduk Party right behind them, she and Kenichi escape through the labyrinthine city. Kenichi is eventually able to help her recover a few memories, as well as her name...Tima.

Tima and Kenichi discover all is not well in Metropolis--robots supply all the menial labor, but have little to no rights and aren't even allowed in parts of the city without facing destruction. Meanwhile, an entire class of people waits underground, upset that robots have taken their jobs and planning to stage a coup in order to take over the government. But those in power have other plans--Duke Red, the man truly in charge of Metropolis, intends an even bigger takeover himself, and his plans include harnessing a secret that Tima holds unknowingly. The wild card in all of this is Rock, Duke Red's young orphaned ward who desperately wants his affection and lashes out at all things mechanical in order to gain his attention. As secrets are revealed and alliances forged, the city of Metropolis lies in the balance.

Metropolis is based on an original story by Osamu Tezuka, commonly known as the father of anime and creator of the much-beloved Astro Boy. It's scripted by Katsuhiro Otomo, the writer/director of Akira, and directed by Rin Taro, the hand behind admired (and maligned) films as diverse as X, The Dagger of Kamui, and Galaxy Express 999. There's an incredible amount of talent here, and this is a happy case where it all comes together in a brilliant, moving package. Tezuka's work has never been more accessible to a new generation with only the vaguest knowledge of his legacy. Otomo creates a script that is both smart and touching, similar in themes to his own masterpiece but with a heart Akira lacks. Rin Taro takes his characteristically bold and inventive style and puts it to work, remaining extremely faithful to the look of Tezuka's characters (which are extremely retro in comparison to today's anime) while creating a world that is fascinating yet thoroughly modern. Rin Taro's work is often criticized for being beautiful but utterly hollow. Here, with a great script and inventive visuals, he creates his own tour de force unmatched by anything else in his previous films.

There is brilliance in the details here, and detail is evident everywhere. The mechanics of the city itself are on full display, and the amount of work and time put into crafting the nuances must have been staggering. There is plenty of CGI here, but it too is inspiring and seamless. But visuals aren't the only catchy thing here. A jazz-infused soundtrack keeps things moving, and the finale set against the backdrop of Ray Charles singing "I Can't Stop Loving You" is nothing short of stunning.

What makes Metropolis such a pleasure to watch, however, are characters that actually have character. The tiniest of roles is infused with life. Even the antagonists of the piece have motivations anyone can easily understand. The viewer cannot help but feel for Rock, the vicious youth that kills without a thought, because of his longing for love and acceptance from someone who cannot fulfill that wish. We intensely dislike him for what he does, but against better judgment we understand. We feel loss with these characters, and at the end, hope. Some will fault Metropolis' ending, which I will not spoil, because it is too predictable in comparison with other anime. Perhaps it is. However, the way it is handled is so impressive that those thoughts are undone.

I can't rave enough about Metropolis, so I'm going to stop. I'm running out of adjectives. Go see it in the theater and buy it on DVD. 'Nuff said.

	Millennium Actress

Satoshi Kon made a spectacular directorial debut with Perfect Blue, the 1999 psychological thriller that disturbed audiences worldwide. With Perfect Blue, Kon delved into the head of a young idol singer who starts to lose her grip on reality as she falls headlong deeper and deeper into the fame game. Pushing the boundaries of anime storytelling (as well as the boundaries of the R rating), Kon served up an exciting, intriguing spectacle that was nevertheless too brutal for casual viewing.

Kon returns to the themes of filmmaking, actresses, and distorted realities in Millennium Actress, and despite the recurring motif, he has turned in a film even better than his last. Though certain concepts remain constant, Millennium Actress is a love story at its core, and one told in a manner that will draw in a very different audience from Perfect Blue. In remolding these ideas, Kon has created a new masterpiece...arguably the first classic anime of the 21st century.

As Millennium Actress begins, we meet documentary filmmaker Genya and his cameraman Kyoji as they brave an earthquake on their way to meet Chiyoko Fujiwara, a legendary actress during the 1950s. Genya wants to document the story of the fascinating, isolated performer who's now a recluse in her 70s. Though frail in her old age, Chiyoko has vivid memories of her youth and what made her into a film idol so many years ago. She tells the story of a young man on the run who left her with an important key back in her youth...a young man she would cross oceans to find. As she discusses this obsession, she weaves back and forth between reality and the films she made, taking Genya and Kyoji on a journey through a tangled life that must be experienced to be understood.

Millennium Actress is a hard movie to describe accurately because, like its predecessor, its technique is part of the form of the movie. The narrative comes at us in unique ways, as the documentarians wind up a part of Chiyoko's flashbacks. We can't always tell the reality from the fiction, and yet we're not supposed to. Millennium Actress is less concerned with telling a true-life story and more in blending together a love story for the ages that incorporates all of Chiyoko's life experiences together in a ninety-minute microcosm. Chiyoko's story isn't limited to the experiences she's had but expands to the world of films she's starred in.

In some ways, it helps us realize that the vicarious experiences we have through reading books, watching shows, and experiencing dramas become a part of our own lives. If someone were to recount our lives stating only what we did, not what we thought and felt about situations and how we were affected by our experiences, so much of our lives would be left out. Millennium Actress weaves together those experiences of Chiyoko's--her thoughts, her experiences, and her career--into a whole that more fully gives us the reality of her life.

At the same time, Millennium Actress is not that complex at all. The layers are there to analyze, but they won't impede your enjoyment of the picture, either. Although some violent passages would frighten young children, it's simple enough at a basic level that middle school and high school students would enjoy it. It's also one of the first anime films to come out that would potentially appeal to a whole family, including women in particular. My wife is not an anime fan, and yet she was excited about seeing it and thoroughly enjoyed the movie.

Normally, I speak critically about animation details for those who appreciate that sort of thing. I won't do so for Millennium Actress other than to say the graphics are flawless for what they were trying to accomplish. Even skeptics should be impressed by the animation here. There is amazing use of color, giving the film a visual motif virtually unlike other anime I've seen. It would be worth seeing for that alone.

However, Millennium Actress gives you so much more than appealing artwork and characters. It has the creative juice to make this a landmark and the touching appeal to stir the hearts and imaginations of its audience. It's a love story with a unique charm that has as much to do with our desire to find love as it does real love itself. And on top of it all, it's exciting and fresh. I rented this one because of dwindling funds, but that was a mistake...it's a keeper.

	My Neighbor Totoro

For countless reasons, My Neighbor Totoro is the perfect anime for all ages. Though there are plenty of fantastic anime programs aimed at teenagers and adults, and equally as many for children (though seen a bit more rarely in the West), there are few that are appropriate for young tykes that are still completely and thoroughly entertaining for adults. With memorable characters and a gentle spirit, Totoro is Hayao Miyazaki's most simple film, but it is also arguably his best.

The film takes us into the lives of Satsuki and Mei, two young girls who have moved out into the country with their father. Their mother is ill and is staying at a hospital--though the move is not completely explained, it would seem it's to bring them closer together and save the family money. Satsuki and Mei start exploring their new home and neighborhood, especially the forest that's essentially their backyard. We follow them through a series of adventures as they eventually meet the king of the forest, a huge, furry creature called Totoro, and his friend, a Cheshire-like catbus.

Although this sounds very simple, it is, which contributes to the beauty of it. This film is about discovery and finding the magical in the ordinary, which is why I don't say more about the plot--it's not for me to spoil. Miyazaki, possibly Japan's greatest animator, is showing us the beauty he sees in the world around us. Many of his films have environmental themes, but Totoro is content to merely let us enjoy the wonder of the forest with its characters and creatures. As Roger Ebert notes in his Great Films commentary, Totoro has no villains, no battle of good and evil, no children vs. adults subplots. The most dramatic the film becomes is when Mei, homesick for her mother, gets lost on the way to the hospital to give her a gift, and Satsuki and her friends try to find her. It is this simplicity that makes the film so good.

Children will love the film--especially children young enough not to have been completely absorbed into the maelstrom of GameBoy, cable TV, and Pokemon clones--because of their natural instinct to discover something new, which the film leisurely indulges. Adults, meanwhile, will like it because it reminds us of our own innocence, when we too could believe that our own Totoro might be waiting to play out back in the field or among the trees on the way to school. It's slowly captivating.

This film could never be made in America today. In a market that demands an ever-increasing number of images on the screen, cut quickly from one to the next, a film this deliberately paced seems anachronistic. And what modern American film would go nearly half its running time without introducing its title character? What Western picture would let the audience decide if its mythological characters were in fact real or just part of the girls' imaginations? What Hollywood extravaganza would picture a loving, caring (and essentially single!) father nurturing his children, listening to their stories, and believing them rather than criticizing them for their fantastical visions? But these are the very things that endear us to Totoro. For all its strange, wonderful creatures, Totoro really pictures people just as they are--a rare thing indeed in cinema.

Disney now owns the rights to this picture, along with most of Miyazaki's other works. The original video release through Fox Family can still be found occasionally, but hopefully Disney will release it soon on DVD. In a way, it's interesting that Disney has the film, because Totoro brings to mind the best things about early Disney animation and easily trounces their recent entries. Disney does not own any rights other than distribution, thankfully, so unless Miyazaki loses his mind we shouldn't be seeing any cut-rate direct-to-video sequels.

At any rate, reading The Anime Review means that you are fan enough to want to see the best anime available...if you haven't seen My Neighbor Totoro, stop reading, go find a copy, and watch it. It's that good. We'll still be here when you get back.

	On Your Mark

When is a music video not a music video? On Your Mark shows that in the capable hands of Hayao Miyazaki, Japan's premier director of animation, a music video can truly become a short film that takes on a life of its own. Though ostensibly a video for the song "On Your Mark" by the incredibly popular Asian group Chage and Aska, On Your Mark is nothing less than a featurette that happens to have their music in the background. On Your Mark completely transcends the genre of music videos and delivers more in just under seven minutes than most films do in two hours.

On Your Mark has a complete story compacted into its short timeframe, and it revolves around a world poisoned by nuclear catastrophe and pollution. The populace apparently lives underground in a megacity that oozes Blade Runner. In the opening moments, police overrun the headquarters of a religious cult, and in the aftermath, two policemen find a young winged girl. Soon after they discover her, they realize they have traded her from one prison to another, and they take on a desperate quest to release her to the outside world. Over the course of six minutes and forty seconds, we become enamored with the young girl and her rescuers as they plan their daring escape.

On Your Mark is remarkable for several reasons, not the least of which is its stunning animation, a trademark for Miyazaki. For one, On Your Mark is a non-linear film; it plays with the audience in much the same way that Pulp Fiction, Memento, and Amores Perros do. Miyazaki toys with this, even putting in a "false" sequence that is later replaced with one that ends differently. Although Miyazaki also still wears his environmentalist hat, it's very interesting to see him deal (albeit briefly) with a dark cyberpunk world, something he's never touched in his feature films despite the popularity of that genre in anime. He also tells his story without any spoken dialogue, which makes him rely on visuals alone, and the result is stunning.

Interestingly enough, Miyazaki also has no interest in dealing with the song's lyrics except when it suits him, and so only occasionally do they actually reflect anything on screen. The music acts as a nice soundtrack, but in no way is it the focus of the work. Credit does need to be given to Chage and Aska, the Asian superstars to whom the tune belongs, for allowing Miyazaki the freedom to do what he did. Although virtually unknown to the West, Chage and Aska are extraordinarily well-liked in the Eastern world, with over thirty albums to their credit as a group and many more as solo artists; that they let Miyazaki use their song as a backdrop in their own video rather than a focal point shows grace virtually unknown among major rock stars in America. Of course, the fact that the two cops in the film bear a striking resemblance to the duo may be part of it.

There is actually a great deal more that could be said about On Your Mark from a theoretical perspective. Many viewers thought that the winged girl could be a representation of Nausicaa, Miyazaki's best-known heroine whose story was told in manga form over a fifteen year period. Miyazaki himself has made allusions to this possibility, and a recent college class at the University of Texas at Dallas had an in-depth discussion about the short's symbolic release of the Nausicaa character after Miyazaki's release of the final volume of the manga series. The short also contains nods to the disaster at Chernobyl, an event that in many ways helped shape Miyazaki's eco-view, and many other snippets worth studying.

All this would be meaningless, however, if the video wasn't enjoyable. Thankfully, it is incredibly fun to watch, and I don't doubt many a copy of this has been worn to shreds by multiple viewings. If you can find it, by all means pick it up. It is well worth having, especially if you are a Miyazaki fan; since there is no dialogue, even an NTSC videotape original from Japan would suffice. Although I'd seen most of his films and wasn't too worried about finding this short before seeing it, I really have to say that On Your Mark shines as one of Miyazaki's best and should be a part of every anime fan's collection.

	Only Yesterday

There are plenty of films out there that are intended to be tear-jerkers. They willfully bend your emotions so that you're personally dragged to the point of sadness. A few work; most do not. They usually fail because you see the proverbial writing on the wall long before the movie ends--and likely being advertised right on the one-sheet poster hanging in the lobby. In sharp contrast, director Isao Takahata makes films that appear to be simple dramas. Yet, of the four films he has made to date, two of them, Grave of the Fireflies and Only Yesterday, make me cry every time I see them.

It's not a macho thing to admit, certainly, but it's the truth. The reason they are so affecting has nothing to do with leading the audience into sap or throwing us metaphysical platitudes. If anything, Takahata takes an impartial route through his films, simply creating utterly realistic characters in real situations who touch us because they we empathize with them. There's nothing staged about them; they just exist. By the time we've spent two hours with them, we desperately feel for these animated natives. If Grave of the Fireflies is Takahata's story of hope lost, Only Yesterday is his tale of hope found. It has resided in my top ten anime list of all time for a great long while. After watching it again, I realize that at #9, it is probably ranked too low.

Only Yesterday introduces us to Taeko, a 27-year-old salarywoman working in a high-rise office in Tokyo in 1982. Unsure of herself and where her life is going, she decides to take a ten-day leave to go out to the countryside to help her sister-in-law's family harvest safflowers, which are used in making certain cosmetics. As she travels, she starts to remember her life as a fifth-grader in 1966. The narrative brings both stories together as Taeko's past explains the missteps of her present life. But as Taeko finds herself falling in love with a simpler existence, as well as the idealistic young farmer Toshio, she will have to decide whether her history will hold sway over her decisions, or if she can finally move beyond her complicated childhood.

I give Takahata a lot of credit for Only Yesterday, since it's his plot device that really makes this film fantastic. The original manga was written as a memoir of Taeko's young self in 1966. Since it was written as a series of vignettes, it apparently proved difficult to translate into film until Takahata introduced the concept of the older Taeko as a device to plot the film's course. The juxtaposition of the two eras works amazingly well, and each one is detailed with certain looks and styles that even those with no knowledge of Japanese culture can spot. The animation is beautiful, as is no surprise from any Studio Ghibli effort. The soundtrack is also perfectly set; my wife wandered through the room a few times while I was watching it and was struck by the beauty of it. From a technical standpoint, aside from a couple of shots I think could have been done differently to better effect, it is perfect.

But what makes Only Yesterday a wonderful movie is its complete understanding of human nature. Taeko as an 11-year-old girl is willful, selfish, and stubborn. At the same time, she is free-spirited and longing, a deeply emotional dreamer. Unlike most movie heroines, she is all of them, usually at the same time. She is a mess of contradictions, just like the rest of us. But it's this combination that makes us soar with her when a young boy she likes talks to her for the first time, that makes us grieve with her when her real self is crushed time and again by a family that can't understand their one daughter who happens to be a bit different from the conformist norm. We also understand why the Taeko of 1982 is torn by her longings and her discomfort with the traditional roles everyone wants her to take. By the show's ending, which rolls as the credits play, we know Taeko. You want to invite her over for supper and an entertaining discussion over cards. All of the characters are this way--neither saints nor demons, just real people. It's what makes Only Yesterday a classic anime film.

Although Disney has the rights to this film, along with several others in the Studio Ghibli canon, it's doubtful that it will ever appear in the US because of its decidedly Japanese flavor. It goes beyond the myriad of cultural pop references that can be missed by a foreign audience without losing much. Certain sequences require a bit of knowledge of Japanese culture for them to even make sense. For example, there is a disturbing sequence where Taeko's father becomes enraged and slaps her for coming out of the house barefoot. To American audiences, this sudden change in the father's disposition seems unwarranted and leads us to think of him as abusive. However, in traditional Japanese custom, leaving barefoot was almost like stepping out of the house naked. The father still overreacts, but the cultural footnote is a necessity to understanding what really happens.

Beyond this problem, the film is meant for adults, and though there is no material particularly unsuitable for children, it likely would be of no interest to them. It is much more like the fare one would see at an art-house cinema than at the metroplex. As Disney targets all of the animation it sells in the US to children, this one simply won't be coming out of their coffers. For those who are willing to spend the extra money and have a region 2 DVD player, the Japanese DVD set does include English subtitles for the film.

Only Yesterday is a wonderful film that works on multiple levels. It goes beyond being a great anime and is really one of the best motion pictures I've seen. It includes none of the trademarks of anime--no mecha, no violence, no melodramatic comedy romances, no fan service, and no science fiction formulas--and it grows the genre because of it. If you consider yourself a fan of anime or the cinema, you must see Only Yesterday.

	Paranoia Agent

"And in the absence of a vision there are nightmares
And in the absence of compassion there is cancer..."
Bruce Cockburn, "Night Train"

I don't follow many directors and creative types in the anime world, but there are a few that always catch my attention. There are names both famous (Hayao Miyazaki, Leiji Matsumoto) and infamous (Rin Taro, Go Nagai), but many of them have been at work for over twenty years. This generation's anime wunderkind, however, is without a doubt Satoshi Kon. By age 42, he had directed three major motion pictures, all of them stunning, and had completed his first television series: Paranoia Agent. At turns fascinating and strange, intimate and global, Paranoia Agent shows a creativity and freshness that is rarely seen in any medium. In this format, Kon has expanded the horizons of what anime on television can be.

The story starts simply with an attack on Tsukiko, a beleaguered artist who is under pressure to develop a new character like her beloved Maromi, by a young kid with a baseball bat and roller skates. The two police officers assigned to her case don't quite believe her story, especially since she's already frazzled. But when reports start coming in of other attacks by the boy nicknamed Lil' Slugger, the investigation goes into high gear. Surprisingly enough, it seems that every victim is under huge stress right before their encounter with the bat boy. Is it simply a spreading delusion? Or is there a person...or even a force...stalking the streets of Tokyo waiting to find the next person who really needs a whap upside the head?

Paranoia Agent excels because it combines complex characters in a unique mix of storylines that all fit together in bizarre but compelling fashion. The animation mirrors this complexity, presenting a wide variety of individuals whose physical appearance, ranging from beautiful to painfully unattractive, reveals quite a bit about their characters. In the artistic department, Paranoia Agent looks spectacular, and it would look noteworthy even on a film screen. The visuals are unique, and at times they evolve into the surreal, but only to capture the full impact of what the characters experience. Paranoia Agent has a realistic quality to it that makes the moments of fancy all that more engaging. Kudos to Madhouse on that side of the job...and also kudos to the dub by New Generation Pictures, which is outstanding.

But Paranoia Agent resonated with me because it's got something far more important on its mind. The individual stories play out beautifully, but they all wind up discussing the central theme of alienation. All of Kon's films have had this theme to some extent, but Paranoia Agent explores it from unexpected angles. By the time we reach the cataclysmic ending, we can hardly believe the ground we've covered, the characters we've gotten to know, and the thematic material Kon has mined. I've seen far too many shows where I could predict what would happen from point A to point B. If anybody tells you they knew how Paranoia Agent would end from watching the first episode or two, they are lying. But what's most gladdening to me is that Satoshi Kon is making a statement about modern society that applies both to Japan and America. Ultimately, Kon's show is a warning to us...if we take the time to understand it.

I'm not sure exactly how accessible Paranoia Agent is to a typical American audience. That isn't meant to be insulting, but this was an unusual choice for Adult Swim to pick up. Yes, it's visually arresting at times, but the plot is far from linear and not rewarding in the typical fashion. Some episodes are side stories that further along the concepts without any of the central players participating. There is a mystery to be solved but no hero in the typical sense. All of this is fantastic for the patient viewer, but the kid just tuning in from InuYasha or Cowboy Bebop might be in for a rude awakening. If you like your anime to be lean and mean eye candy that doesn't require you to think, no matter how good this looks, you'll likely wind up disappointed. You really can't watch Paranoia Agent casually to understand the whole story. And be aware...this show is disturbing at times.

With that caveat in mind, I can't recommend Paranoia Agent highly enough. It is a suspenseful drama that rewards the viewer who is intelligent enough to follow its complexities and mature enough to not expect a lot of action. Satoshi Kon's next film, Paprika, is supposed to hit America in early 2007, and I can't wait. So far, the man has batted a thousand, and Paranoia Agent is no exception.

	The Place Promised in Our Early Days

In terms of US anime releases, 2005 has been a year of big names and mediocre accomplishments. We've seen the return of Katsuhiro Otomo and Hayao Miyazaki, and both delivered enjoyable films...but in comparison to their earlier works, their recent movies are disappointing. Who can't say that the new version of Appleseed is better than its miserable OVA predecessor? And yet, it still has problems, especially for fans of the manga. Entertaining? Sure, but far from perfect. However, I'm glad to say that the streak is broken. Friends, forget Steamboy. Forget Howl's Moving Castle. Forget Appleseed. The best US anime release of 2005 is The Place Promised In Our Early Days. It's not just the best anime I've seen this year, it's the best film I've seen this year. And it just may be one of the best anime I've seen, period.

The story is set in an alternate timeline where Japan has split into two factions, apparently divided after WWII. Far in the distance of the Union, planted in what used to be called Hokkaido, can be seen a gigantic tower streaming leagues into the sky. Its enormity can even been seen in Tokyo on a clear day. But what is the tower for? No one seems to know.

Enter Hiroki and Tayuka, a couple of 9th grade boys with a dream. They plan to build an aircraft of their own to fly into Union airspace and check out the tower for themselves. All is going well when the friendly Sayuri joins their group. She's a sweet girl, and the three of them become fast friends. But one day, Sayuri disappears. Despite their best efforts, the two cannot find her, and their dream fades. Building on the plane stops. But three years later, Hiroki learns a secret about Sayuri that may link them all together in a bond with the mysterious tower that none of them could have imagined.

The Place Promised In Our Early Days is one of those rare works that is an art film with an engaging plot. Writer and director Matoko Shinkai, who brought us the astounding Voices of a Distant Star, has proven that his first effort was not a fluke. Unlike virtually every anime I've seen, Shinkai frames his shots so that we are not constantly on top of the characters. Instead, he enjoys medium and long-range shots where we can see the characters but not observe their faces. At times, he wants to point out the lyrical sound of his subjects' voices. Though the film is dialogue driven, we are not stuck watching a bunch of talking heads. Shinkai is interested in each picture setting a mood, and it works.

The Place... is not a strongly animated feature in the sense of movement. Shinkai's characters move perfectly well, but the film is rarely concerned with action, and so the movement we see is all naturally a part of each shot. But this is not frustrating in the least, for Shinkai provides backdrops that seem to have dropped right from paradise into the show. The beauty of it is occasionally overwhelming. Not every moment is there to make you go "ah," but many do.

It's clear to me that The Place... owes at least some credit to Wings of Honneamise, which is an incredible film to be in debt to, in my opinion. There are several links between the two, from the detailed artwork that shows obvious care to the pacing to certain plot points that, though subtle, are unique to both films. I would be surprised if WINGS did not in some way inspire Shinkai. There are also real-world parallels: both Shinkai and Studio Gainax made their original reputations from short films, then stunned the world with amazing feature-length debuts. Whereas in my opinion Gainax has never quite lived up to the promise of Wings of Honneamise, I think Matoko Shinkai has the potential to claim a spot among the great anime directors like Hayao Miyazaki, Isao Takahata, and Satoshi Kon.

You might have noticed that I haven't really addressed the plot yet. Though the film has one, and a captivating one at that, it is not about the story per se. It is in large part a reminiscence, a haunted longing for things that seem barely out of reach but are still beyond the grasp. It is a moody, melancholy film, and yet it is not depressing. It is hopeful yet sad. It is emotional without being manipulative. All those superlatives being said, if you come into it wanting a great science fiction movie, you may leave disappointed. Science fiction is certainly a part of the film and central to its plot, but it's not about that. The film leaves many of the science fiction aspects mysterious and unexplained; this is not a film about technobabble. Shinkai realizes that the best sci-fi is not about the gadgets or the mechanical workings but about us, about how we relate with one another. In their best moments, sci-fi classics like 2001, the Star Trek films and TV shows, and Solaris knew it too. Just enjoy the ride.

One other point: this movie is deliberate. (I could call it slow, but that would imply that it somehow drags, which it doesn't.) It's engaging, but it is the opposite of hyper. Fans weaned on spastic action may get bored. However, that's not my problem; I'm just here to let you know. It's not one I would rent for the kids, though there's nothing offensive about it. Much of its appeal is in discussing subjects that will have much greater meaning for late teens and adults. Also, sadly, the dub doesn't quite have the emotional resonance of the original...and because the voices and inflections are so important, I would stick with the sub if at all possible.

I could go on and on about The Place Promised In Our Early Days, but you've read enough laudation from me. This film did what seldom anime does: it moved me. And I hope you'll trust me enough to pick it up and risk being moved yourself.

	Robot Carnival

One of the most enjoyable pieces of work within the entire anime canon, Robot Carnival is a joyous celebration of the power of animation. A modern take on Disney's Fantasia, this film is filled with beautiful images that rarely need words to convey their meanings. Even in its most basic moments, Robot Carnival is thoroughly entertaining, and is an easy way to explain to the cynic how anime transcends a variety of genres so easily.

Robot Carnival is a collection of several short films with only one connecting theme--each, in some way, involves an automaton of some kind. The directors were allowed to flow from there, and what they turned out is nothing short of astounding. All but two of the segments have no dialogue, letting the soundtrack and the visuals handle the storytelling. Going through an amazing range of styles, we get black comedy in the opening and closing segments from Akira's Katsuhiro Otomo. We get an action spectacular in "Deprive" and a romantic diversion in "Starlight Angel." We have an art piece in Mao Lamdo's "Clouds". We have a hysterical take on US/Japanese relations in a funny mecha story, "Tale of Two Robots". Finally, in its best moments, we get a wonderful chase through a mechanized Sleepy Hollow in "Nightmare" and a hauntingly beautiful love story in "Presence."

Despite a huge variety of artistic styles and techniques, Robot Carnival looks gorgeous throughout, even if it isn't quite at the level of some of the best new anime films. The soundtrack varies widely as well, but it's one of the few anime soundtracks I own due to its quality. The whole film benefits from having excellent direction throughout. Although it might be hard to call it innovative, seeing that Fantasia also told its tales without words, Robot Carnival is far more entertaining than that ultimately dull film, and I believe far more creative.

Does that mean you'll like every section of the film? Probably not. I love the whole thing, and I still sometimes skip over "Clouds", which is beautiful yet plotless. Others dislike "Deprive" and "Starlight Angel" for their simplistic views and similarities to each other. However, on the whole, it fits together wonderfully well, especially in its original order. (Streamline, in its infinite wisdom, changed the order of the segments when they released it stateside.) There is something for everybody in this film, and some segments are so good that it's even worth skipping around if you have to in order to get to them. Personally, even the lesser parts work for me.

In particular, "Presence" is excellent. The story of an inventor who creates a robot who turns out a little too real and the regrets that come to haunt him, "Presence" is easily Yasuomi Umetsu's finest work to date. If it were just brilliantly animated, which it is, it would be merely good. However, the whole story is sadly haunting, and it stayed with me for weeks the first time I saw it. "Nightmare" and "Tale of Two Robots" are also both fantastic and worth the price of admission.

I am excited to hear the whisperings that a DVD of this title is on the way. Along with Robotech and Macross '84, this was one of my first entry titles into Japanese animation, so perhaps I'm biased. Even then, though, Robot Carnival is a must-see film.

	Spirited Away

Mention Hayao Miyazaki in anime circles, and you'll usually see a response of utter respect and quiet awe. Mention Hayao Miyazaki to the average American, and you'll get a quizzical look. There is no doubt throughout virtually all of the modern world (save the US) that Hayao Miyazaki is the true heir to the Disney legacy, creating stories of wonder and mystery that far outshine anything the studio has done since the days that Walt himself added the finishing touches. That the Disney corporation purchased the rights to all of Hayao Miyazaki's films made under the Studio Ghibli moniker, then failed to release all but one in theaters and tanked that one (Princess Mononoke) through shoddy marketing at Miramax, shows how low that company has gone since Walt's passing. They have since released Spirited Away, Miyazaki's latest, but again only into art theaters where most children, the target audience, will never see it. This is the ultimate insult, for Spirited Away is truly a gem of a picture, one that for all its Eastern trappings is more universal in its ethics and concept than anything Miyazaki has done in the last decade.

We meet a young girl, Chihiro, as she rides in the backseat of her parents' car on the way to their new home. Chihiro is a disinterested little thing, not pleased about the move, upset about changing schools, and overall pretty much scared (or at least unwilling) to try new things. When her dad takes what he thinks will be a detour to their new home, they wind up finding an abandoned amusement park. Reluctantly, Chihiro follows her parents inside, only to find that the park is not abandoned--it's actually a bathhouse for the spirit world! Her parents indulge in some food from the other side without realizing it, and they are turned into pigs for their treat. It's up to Chihiro to brave a new and sometimes scary life in order to eventually rescue her parents and return to the normal world.

Normally, I would say more in my description about a film that is two hours long, but I'm refraining from that here. Spirited Away shows off more creativity in any given fifteen minutes than any other animated feature I've seen. That creativity is something to be experienced, and so I'm not going to spoil it for you ahead of time. Let me just say that this film is full of visual spectacles and surprises that will turn even the most jaded moviegoer's head. Now the plot is not of utmost importance here. Some critics compare it to an Eastern take on Alice In Wonderland, but that's really just used to try and find something for comparison. Things aren't as nonsensical in Spirited Away by any means, but the film is episodic in nature at times, and like Alice, the journey is the important thing.

And what a journey it is! I have not seen a film that was better animated perhaps ever. Though I might still have favorites beyond this, Spirited Away is simply beautiful in every single frame. The music has been slightly redone for the dub, which I saw, but I have to say that I'll probably take it over the original Japanese score, knowing that I often find Miyazaki's films a little underscored in their original versions. The dub itself is merely OK--Disney did not go to great lengths to make it as good as Princess Mononoke or Kiki's Delivery Service. This was disappointing, but the voiceover work is still far better than the average anime dub.

	Voices of a Distant Star

Every once in a great while, you walk out to the sea, and there's a perfect pearl just sitting there waiting for you. That, in essence, is Voices of a Distant Star.

Although I may be overstating the case, the recently released Voices of a Distant Star is as close to flawless as I can imagine a product in today's anime marketplace. What's even more amazing is that it's the product of a single man and a Power Mac. Shinkai Makoto, the film's director/animator/creator, literally did every last thing on the show save for the voices, the music, and the sound effects. Not since Robot Carnival's "Presence" segment has a short anime film been as deeply moving, as beautifully illustrated, and as utterly thought provoking.

Not quite 50 years in the future, Mikako and Noburu are best friends who have fallen in love. Their romance is sweet and gentle; even though they are just in high school, there's a true affection there. However, the rest of the universe isn't in nearly such good shape. A strange alien race known as the Tarsians have attacked outposts nearing Earth. In somewhat of a role reversal, Mikako joins the advance forces to repel the invaders while Noburu stays behind. They communicate as often as possible by messaging each other on their cell phones. As the distance between them increases, the time between messages grows...and as Mikako is forced to participate in a light-speed jump to avoid destruction by the Tarsians, she doesn't age while Noburu grows older. The bittersweet flavor of being apart is amplified until they realize a few simple truths.

Although there's not a lot of actual movement in the animation, that's about the only nitpick anybody could make with this extraordinary OVA. In the span of 24 minutes, Voices takes us through a huge realm of emotions while also serving up stunningly gorgeous backgrounds, some impressive battle sequences, and characters so realistic that you could know them personally. Although some might dislike that there's some 3D animation in the piece, this is the most faultless union of traditional and computer techniques I've seen, blowing the blends in similar pieces like Titan A.E. and Blue Submarine No. 6 out of the water. In terms of the science fiction end of things, it combines and pays homage to the best parts of the original Macross, Neon Genesis Evangelion, and Gundam while creating something wholly original.

What makes Voices an A+ pick for me is the way that it stays with you. It's like a desperately haunting dream that you want to revisit often for fear of forgetting it. Perhaps it's because I lived for a year overseas at one point, an immense length away from my family and my fiancé (who's now my wife). I've felt the emotions this show invokes personally. But that isn't to say that anyone couldn't relate. The root of the show is unshakeable love, expressed in the deep melancholy that only the deepest feelings can provide. This show is the stroll in the park with the soul mate you had in high school that you haven't seen in ten years but still think about every day...the kiss that almost happened but couldn't...the lonely walk through the blowing snow when you realize your life will never be quite the same.

In his first major outing, Shinkai Makoto has raised the bar to an almost impossible level. If he can ever outdo this piece, I'll be utterly stunned. The major studios need to take heed, because this is why I love anime. The DVD of Voices of a Distant Star should be out soon from ADV Films. Pick it up, watch it, contemplate it, and let it burn into your core.

	Whisper of the Heart

I want to complain about being an anime critic every now and then. The pay is non-existent, people yell at you when you don't give their favorite shows high rankings, and you tend to watch a lot of garbage you wouldn't even contemplate seeing if you weren't trying to review the widest amount of material possible. I was in a mood to complain about such things recently, but then I saw Whisper of the Heart. If anything, Whisper of the Heart is an otaku's redemption. It's a gentle, kind film that not only restores faith in the medium of anime, but also serves to show that the form can do far more than give us robotic battles and girls with guns...it can touch the very core of who we are. This is a simple film filled with ordinary people doing ordinary things; it finds magic in small pleasures and stolen glances. Although the very last note is slightly off, it's a testament to the movie's strength that it doesn't even really matter...Whisper of the Heart is superb in every sense. Produced by Miyazaki's famous Studio Ghilbi, this is a charming masterpiece.

Whisper of the Heart is about Shizuku, a girl finishing up junior high who's just not sure exactly what her place will be in life. She's an avid reader, and she's determined to finish at least 20 books over the summer. However, she's stunned to find that virtually every book she's checked out of the library has been read first by Amasawa Seiji. She daydreams what this person must be like who could share her interests so very well...and yet she knows there's little time for fairy-tale romance when exams to test into high school are just around the corner. Still, Shizuku expresses herself through attempting to translate the old John Denver song "Country Roads" into Japanese. If it weren't for that annoying boy she keeps running into on the street, life would be OK. But then again, that boy might just be right for her after all...and so we see the facets of Shizuku coming together as she starts to mature into a young woman.

Whisper was directed by Yoshifumi Kondo, an extremely gifted animator who worked with Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata (the two principle directors at Studio Ghibli) for years. Sadly, Whisper of the Heart was to be his directorial debut and finale, as he passed away suddenly in 1998. This is a certain tragedy, for Kondo is able to create a world just as captivating as anything in his friends' films. What's more stunning is that he is able to create emotion and bond in a realistic world relatively free from Miyazaki's enjoyable but distracting fantasy elements and Takahata's typical reliance on sentimentalism. Don't misunderstand, because both are masters, but they have some weaknesses that don't hold true for Kondo. At any rate, it's clear that this film has a fine pedigree.

What's simply stunning is that nothing gets in the way of telling the wonderful, understated story here. The animation is superb, not overly catchy but muted when appropriate and gorgeous when it needs to be. The soundtrack, color palette, etc. all work together to provide us with a small corner of Japanese life. On one hand, the film certainly succeeds at providing a look at how modern-day Japan (outside of the big cities) has melded the islands' natural beauty with the needs of society. If I could prove that the vistas shown in the film indeed existed, I'd likely find myself on the next plane over, they are so impressive! On the other hand, the beauty of the artwork only enhances the story. Though my summary of the film leaves out many details, it's intentional...Whisper of the Heart is a film to be discovered and enjoyed. It's great on many layers. I will say that there is a dramatic misstep at the very, very end of the film, but everything else plays so well that it's not nearly as important as it could be. See the movie, and you'll understand what I talking about. In plain English, most films cannot overcome any strains in their closings; this one certainly can and does.

On the grading scale I use, an A simply doesn't cut it...this film earns extra credit. It's easily one of the best anime ever made, ranking up with Wings of Honneamise and My Neighbor Totoro, and a film that can stand with the best cinema, live-action or not. Although rumors persist that Disney is working to release this film, it would be a surprising choice, particular since language translation in and of itself is a plot point. Nevertheless, if you can find a fansub (or, more likely, a raw print with a copy of the script), you must see this film. It's enough to rock even the most jaded anime fan.

	Wings of Honneamise

I recently re-watched Wings of Honneamise, possibly the grandest, most spectacular anime which can be called an unequivocal commercial failure. Adored by critics but slammed at the box office, this film only found a limited audience when it was released in 1987. Unlike most films though, Wings of Honneamise carries even more weight now, fifteen years later, than it did upon its original release. With craftsmanship unseen in any release before or after, Honneamise is one of the few films that every anime fan should see.

Set in an alternate world both similar and strange in comparison to our own, our protagonist Shiro once had dreams of joining the Air Force. Due to poor grades and a lack of motivation, however, he scuttled out and instead became a member of the fledgling Royal Space Force. A collection of misfits and outcasts, the group is seen as a joke. However, as part of an ongoing rivalry with a neighboring country, the Space Force starts putting together a program by which they plan to send the first man into space. Seeing that they haven't been able to launch a single rocket without catastrophe, it's considered suicide. Surprising even himself, Shiro volunteers for the mission and starts rigorous training amid the amusement of his peers.

Meanwhile, Shiro meets a young woman, Riuquinni, preaching on the streets in the hopes of saving humanity. He finds himself drawn to her and to her religion, and as the launch grows closer, he spends more and more time with her. Eventually, though, disillusionment follows as even the most steadfast wander from righteousness and man's best plans go astray. Shiro's decision between following that disenchantment to justify a downward spiral or pushing it aside and becoming a man of integrity will determine his destiny.

Wings of Honneamise is uncommon in virtually every way. It cost over $8 million to produce, which at the time was a staggering budget for any anime production. The creators of the film were several rabid anime fans who, after creating two short music video parodies called Daicon III-IV for conventions of the same name, wanted to tell their own stories. In the process, they formed Gainax, now known throughout anime fandom for the infamous Neon Genesis Evangelion, FLCL, Gunbuster, and many other top-tier titles. For a fledgling company to produce a work this staggering is simply amazing.

The uncommon bit doesn't stop with the film's studio, however. The world of Honneamise is very like ours while being completely different. The details are what are stunning, particularly when at first glance everything appears so normal. However, on multiple viewing you notice little things, such as spoons holding a triangular rather than round shape. The airships and architecture are completely foreign yet altogether familiar. Each item within the program is retro designed as if the artists were told to casually defy convention. A lesser film would make the designs the movie. Instead, Honneamise takes them for granted, just as the people in that world would, and subtly, deftly weaves them in.

The plot of Honneamise is introspective and thoughtful, slow-moving yet graceful. For all the technology and sci-fi trappings, the film is really about a man slowly finding his soul. The film takes on the two always taboo subjects--religion and politics--and presents them in a slightly different context in order to comment on them. This movie leaves the audience questioning its own existence and purpose--and few films animated or otherwise can do that.

For audiences weaned on countless barrages of violence and motion, Honneamise will likely be too slow to keep an attention span. When I watched the film with my webmaster, who doesn't mind artistic films, he found it interesting but lethargically paced. The average anime crowd won't necessarily "get" this film because it shuns the typical conventions to its benefit.

I also must make a note to parents that there is a disturbing sequence in the film of an attempted rape. The scene itself is extremely pivotal in the film and is not exploitative in the usual sense, and the film could still muster a PG-13 rating. However, it does make the film unsuitable for younger children; teenagers, though, should be able to understand the scene in its context with guidance.

All that being said, Wings of Honneamise is extraordinary, an achievement not just as an animated picture but as a film. The last 10 minutes have been burned into my memory. Anime in itself is an artistic endeavor, but Wings of Honneamise is actually art. If you like thought-provoking material dished out slowly and with great flavor, you will truly enjoy it. Highly recommended.

P.S. Please beware of the current DVD out on the market. Despite having some of the best extras of any anime DVD, including an almost unheard-of director's commentary, the picture quality on most DVD players is horrid. The picture is interlaced, and without getting into a technical rant, proof exists on the web that this DVD was incorrectly mastered. Word has it that a new version will be coming, so hold tight and rent a copy until it's released.