This is very much a product of its time: it features Tomoyo Harada, a screen idol of the early 80s who has since become a singer/songwriter with a pretty respectable back catalogue, albeit no longer as a household name. The director Nobuhiko Obayashi is another old industry regular that I’m not familiar with but he’s apparently notorious for his surreal style; any oddness present in this film isn’t excessive, but it’s interesting.

The special effects of the time leaping are probably the worst thing about it since they really do look like something from the 80s. Other aspects have aged better: Obayashi does some cool stuff with colour saturation, starting the opening scene off in black-and-white then bringing the full colour gradually into the video frame (screenie below). It’s an innovative little arthouse touch that I don’t recall seeing anywhere else but works well here. I thought MPC was playing up but the aspect ratio is indeed different at the beginning: I wonder if it was the inspiration for Shinbo in Bakemonogatari and other recent experimental types.

I’m assuming this movie was originally promoted using Harada’s appearance in the starring role, which is probably a point lost on us now. It was her feature-length debut too and I believe she earned a best-newcomer award or two for that; she took a bit of flak for her performance of the end theme but quite frankly I’ve heard a lot worse. Besides, her acting performance seemed to improve as the movie progressed and by the time the twist at the end appeared I was pretty impressed.

One aspect of the casting I did find familiar however was that of Ittoku Kishibe, who has since gone on to star in a lot of other stuff. I personally know him best from playing up his dependable father-figure role in the excellent Survive Style 5+, but the performance from his considerably younger self here was also worthy of a mention.

As slow as it is, this take on the Tokikake franchise is a pretty moving romantic drama. The love triangle and the coming-of-age aspects that helped make the 2006 animated version so enjoyable are also present here and the plot plays out slightly differently: it’s nothing major but there are just enough surprises for those of us who have seen the anime. The ending in particular is quite well done, especially if the foreshadowing succeeds in fooling you as it did with me.

I suspect this has slipped under a lot of people’s radar but I’d be interested to see whether it gains a resurgence in popularity in light of the new live-action sequel. The synopsis of the 2010 film suggests that the protagonist of the 1983 version is also an important character, albeit played by a different actress. Part of me wishes that Harada could be given a cameo in the new version, but maybe it really has been too long for the audience to appreciate such a subtle nod to its heritage.

Looking up the background to this film was therefore almost as interesting to me as actually watching the thing. For starters, it highlights how extensive the Tokikake franchise is as a whole: there’s the original novel penned by acclaimed SF writer Yasutaka Tsutsui (of Paprika fame), a TV drama from the 70s, this feature-length movie, a 1994 TV series, a 1997 feature film remake, another made-for-TV film in 2002 starring members of girl group Morning Musume, the 2006 anime movie and that live-action sequel earlier this year.

I really had no idea about most of these – it’s pretty fascinating to see how many famous names have been involved with it over the years. My experience with Japanese cinema is mostly limited to the past decade or two with the exception of the obligatory Akira Kurosawa thrown in, so it was a new experience to watch an old but not really old film (as in, it’s almost as old as I am).

I guess it’s also an earlyish example of the now-familiar practices of promoting a film off the back of a popular novel and casting a young and popular face for the protagonist. The task of being the poster girl for the movie, playing the lead role and singing the end theme (which, naturally, was released as a single) is therefore far from a new idea…here in Internet Land where memories are short it’s commonplace enough as topic for conversation, but I got a bit of a kick out of seeing how far back these ideas go.

Beyond that, there isn’t a great deal I can say about this film. A lot of the ideas and storylines are familiar ground for those of us familiar with the Hosoda version that I’ve blogged about before, and there isn’t an easy way to outline the differences without spoilers. For some reason, trying to write this post made my brain seize up so I’ll leave it here and move onto something else. My time off work is almost at an end so I guess I’d better enjoy the feeling of having get-up-and-go while it lasts.

This is an extremely unusual series, which is why I’m not surprised that it’s already virtually forgotten. It’s straight-faced and serious as hell, challenging the viewer from the outset by starting off very weird indeed. And it gets weirder. Even so, I found it to be a piece of sheer bloody genius with a multi-layered maze of a plot that starts off with bizarre yuri overtones, moves into hard-boiled detective fiction with serial killers and femmes fatales, dabbles in esoteric Japanese folklore and rounds it all off with a closing act that reaches Nasu-esque levels of twisted insanity.

I don’t use the term ‘Nasu-esque’ lightly: his writing is the only other example I’ve seen so far that holds a variety of disparate themes together and pulls it off with such audacious flair. Mouryou no Hako begins with a severed head then introduces a poetic shoujo-ai subplot that does little to prepare the viewer for what follows; it’s one of the oddest ways to open a series but is a good way of drawing in those who’d appreciate the rest of the series while warning away everyone else.

Needless to say it’s very Relevant To My Interests, and I daresay that the original novel would be even more rewarding in terms of appreciating the additional details of the story. I didn’t know what to expect from the use of CLAMP character designs in this situation but they add a vital air of stylised gothic elegance to a realistic 1950s setting. The ‘CLAMP touch’ works well with the shoujo-ai aspect and sweetens what is an otherwise very thematically dark tale. I don’t know why it was decided to set the story in the 50s either, but it picks up on the feelings of rebuilding and profound change that must’ve been felt in the post-war period.

The atmospheric side of Mouryou no Hako is I think a major part of why I found it so compelling. The relationship between Yoriko and Kanako plays out in a dreamlike fashion but there’s this formless something lurking in the shadows that’s telling you that the flowers, pretty girls and moonlight are deceptive. Sure enough, it veers into murder-mystery territory with the police tramping around on the trail of a crazed killer in the sweltering summer heat, and there’s an ominous-looking box-shaped building full of scary-looking medical equipment hidden away in the woods.

This building is one of several examples of the way this series employs recurring themes and motifs, the most obvious being that of boxes. Marrying the concept of the hako, or box, with the other half of the title, mouryou, is the point where the series made its only mistake though: the Mouryou are allegedly creatures of folklore and a full two episodes or so are devoted to the terminology and derivations.

I daresay this is interesting in itself, and of course tossing in seemingly unrelated plot points that promise you they’re significant later on is all part of the general approach of the show. That is to say, there are a lot of things in here that are more significant than are immediately apparent; even so, going into such dry, hard-to-digest and ultimately irrelevant detail about the history of the word mouryou isn’t one of them. I felt a bit cheated at that because after such a gorgeous opening and, later, a brilliantly disturbing ending it broke the flow. The metaphorical idea of the mouryou does however effectively play into the story’s themes of morality and madness through obsession.

Another thing I really appreciate about this show is that the narrative jumps around and expects the viewer to put the pieces together, picking up clues as they go and taking it upon themselves to work out what to do with them. Such a mature approach to storytelling is rare (even more so now, in light of recent events), although for every viewer who loves it there’ll be another who finds the experience frustrating.

Mouryou no Hako is an ambitiously-mixed cocktail of concepts and aesthetics that are so varied that the chances of failing would’ve been high. Surprisingly the aforementioned verbose stream of jargon is the only point where it stumbles because CLAMP’s shoujo character designs make a wonderful contrast next to the blood-soaked violence, the historical setting is perfect for a film noir murder-mystery and when the concept of the mouryou is used in the context of the serial killings and mystery elements, the mystical and realistic complement each other rather than clash.

The ‘rewatchability’ of the show is also an important point, which includes those pre-opening-credit excerpts of short stories written by two of the characters. They are indeed important but it’s not until you watch the series in its entirety that you understand where exactly they fit in. I must admit that this was one more thing that genuinely surprised me, so for fear of spoiling it I urge you to see it through to the end if you’ve made a start on it and like what you saw.

Sakuban already have two EPs Voi and Kidnie to their name but their reputation at home appears to be based largely on their live shows. Perhaps this is why the production of Pavilion has a deliberately live feel with little evidence of overdubbing or studio effects processing. Although it is the polar opposite of overproduced, the sound is clear, powerful and exhilarating; the arrangements are noticably more complex than those of their earlier material too.

It’s hard to categorise Pavilion beyond the vague genre definition of instrumental guitar rock; the band make use of not one or two but three full-time guitarists in addition to bass and drums. Unlike, say, Mono or Mogwai, who use multiple layered guitar lines to create expansive soundscapes, the aim of Pavilion appears to be the impression of chaos enclosed in a small space through shorter pieces.

The raw, gutteral distorted guitar riffs of the opener moody pavilion and the single YOUTH set the pace with frantic drumming and galloping basslines but unlike their contemporaries Sakuban use their multiple instruments to create a tense and wild stop-start structure to songs that rarely break the four minute mark. In the absence of lyrical content, dynamic changes in tempo and volume provide the hook to draw the listener in, and in this aspect at least pavilion follows the trend.

Even so, there are no epic crescendos or classical influences here: Sakuban’s roots seem to lie in punk-fuelled garage rock, married to unconventional time signatures that remind me of the math rock of Sheffield’s 65DaysOfStatic. Sakuban however rely solely on guitars, bass and drums (it wouldn’t surprise me if the drummer is jazz trained); the staccato slapback delay and hairy fuzz in レダロ for example ensure that the licks are colourful and varied with selective use of effects pedals, but the emphasis is on their own brand of melody.

The warbling lead lines in Fashion [pavilion ver.] capture that delicate balance between catchy and experimental that is often the deciding factor between a band whose music sticks in your head and a band who ‘do different’ for its own sake. pavilion definitely hits on the former for me: the mayhem is underpinned by rigidly-followed structures that are more apparent with repeated listens.

This is an album that is all about *songs* rather than over-long passages with excessive amounts of FX that seem like they’re trying to hide shortcomings in the musicianship. The members of Sakuban are still in university as far as I know but the jagged, textured riffs of IDEA would suggest otherwise: it exudes well-founded confidence and for those who are familiar with the EPs, the song structures are more focused with a firmer sense of direction.

Although the signature style of this band is distinctive the songs don’t blur into each other as much as I expected them to. 夕日の slows the pace a little with longer periods of smooth arpeggiated chords and verse breaks, which offers a slight pause for breath in time for deltal. It seems that the guitar duties are divided between the conventional concepts of lead and supporting rhythm parts, but the third sometimes steps in and out of the sonic picture to colour it with occasional shrieks, pick scrapes and quasi-random bits of noise to maintain an air of constant unpredictability.

The reason why I suspect this album is an attempt at capturing the essence of their live shows is because the likes of sarliban are so immediate – it’s a recording that succeeds in making the music feel alive and tangible. This track unusually features vocals; admittedly only background wails which give a haunting element of humanity before the coda quickly descends into a sonic riot.

夜が入ってくる is another change of pace and style, being as it is the slowest-paced track on the album and featuring its only employment of acoustic guitar. This one feels more stripped-down as a result, but is no less effective in that it provides the necessary contrast with the closing track TOWN, which ends the album on the appropriate levels of boundless energy that it showed in the opening tracks.

The problem of too many bands and artists sounding alike is the same as it always was I think, but there are always some who make the extra effort to do otherwise. mudy on the 昨晩 are a case in point: the lack of lyrical content gets around the language barrier (although physically buying the records can be tricky for overseas fans) and their striking sound is genuinely unique to my ears. I strongly recommend this record to those of us who really do appreciate fresh, original musical talent.

Track listing

1. moody pavilion
2. YOUTH
3. レダロ
4. Fashion [pavilion ver.]
5. IDEA
6. 夕日の
7. deltal
8. Sarliban
9. 夜が入ってくる
10. TOWN

I’m sure the obituaries and tributes to Satoshi Kon from his family and friends will be formed as I type and my sincere condolences go out to them. I’m afraid I know nothing about who he was as a man: I sadly never had the opportunity to meet him. His work however is something I’ve become very familiar with over the years, and it’s my love of this that I want to express, as my way of acknowledging what he achieved.

What grabbed me straight away about Perfect Blue was the assured storytelling and startling realism. Because my anime experience at that time was limited to Gainax SF, family-friendly Ghibli and the usual newcomer’s “anime=cartoons” prejudice, it was a revelation to see an animated film so sophisticated, so complex and so…grown-up. It’s a notorious yet rewatchable film that I still recommend to this day as one of the greats. Hard to believe it’s a directorial debut.

Next up for me was the Magnetic Rose short, part of Otomo’s Memories anthology. Again, the realism was striking – especially when it’s set in outer space in the future – but its aesthetics and blurring of reality and illusion can largely be attributed to Kon. Then I saw Millennium Actress at a convention, expecting another Perfect Blue, but it’s nothing of the sort. It uses that classic Kon-ism of seamlessly connecting what’s real and what’s imagined to tell a biopic-style tale of one woman’s life that’s very different in tone and content, if not techniques.

The sumptuous visuals of Millennium Actress and the tenderness of its story made it another one of my favourites, in no small part because the romantic element was handled with such subtlety, and because it felt like a filmmaker’s love letter to the medium of cinema as a whole. His ability to draw the viewer in, allowing me to enjoy it as a movie rather than mere animation, was uncanny and a rare gift.

Tokyo Godfathers was different again, taking on the uncool and somewhat taboo subject of homelessness and weaving it into a somewhat fantastical and heartwarming story. For all my talk of how Kon’s direction and writing is imaginative and mature, this title highlights another important element. Again, I can’t comment on how fun he was to be around in real life, but this and all his work exhibits a wonderfully dry and sharp sense of humour. Often it’s very dark and pokes fun at society and human frailties, yet there’s a firm grasp of hope and a celebration of humanity in there.

Paranoia Agent is the black sheep of the bunch, being as it is a TV show. Regretfully, my final three discs of this went missing shortly after I watched it so my memories of it are hazy. I recall a lot of social commentary tied in with the mystery thriller aspects though, showing Kon’s sharp satirical eye on the world around him as well as his keen sense of what makes for an immersive fantasy world.

Which brings me to Paprika, his most recent and therefore probably most well-known film. I can’t stress this enough: Paprika is pretty much the only occasion when I didn’t find myself thinking “the book was better…” of ANY screen adaptation. Yasutaka Tsutsui’s novel is a fascinating SF effort that delves into what happens when dreams pop into the real world but I can’t imagine a better candidate for directing a movie of this than Kon.

If this film is indeed his last (there’s another that’s unreleased, but I don’t know how close it is to completion) it’s a fitting way to remember him. It’s thought-provoking, imaginative, well-paced and artistically spectacular animation for adults; just watch it if you haven’t already. Really.

I honestly don’t know what else to say. We often hear that there aren’t enough good directors around, and the likes of Miyazaki and Takahata are old themselves. Forty-seven is really too young for anyone to go but in that time Kon has made a big impression on a lot of people, and I can say with absolute sincerity that every title he’s directed is downright excellent.

I hope this conveys how important Kon’s work is to me, but more importantly I hope it encourages those of you reading this who haven’t seen any of them to look them up. It’s a shocking tragedy that he’s gone so suddenly but everything he did from Perfect Blue to Paprika is still brilliant. So go watch ‘em.

If there’s one thing I find fascinating about contemporary Japan it’s the presence of contrasts that are baffling to an outside first-time visitor. This has been heightened in the past decade or two by fundamental changes that are inexorably altering the society’s status quo, so the ramifications for its defining features of harmony, tradition and smooth routine are quite striking.

Given the current international economic uncertainty, the knock-on effects on industry and everyday life are as noteworthy now as they’ve ever been. What makes this a significant film is that this ultra-modern yet tradition-based Japan is rarely portrayed at the grassroots level: it’s a refreshing change to see a filmmaker point his camera away from the familiar high-rise cityscape and focus it on the ordinary working people who ultimately make the country what it is.

The people in this case are the Sasakis, a family comprised of office manager Ryuhei, his wife Megumi and their two sons Takashi and Kenji. From the outset their lifestyle is shown as typical: functioning day to day with a strict formality. As soon as this premise is established we see Ryuhei lose his supposedly safe job to cheaper foreign labour and it becomes immediately apparent how fragile the neatly-ordered domestic arrangement can be.

Anime and manga fans are familiar with how ‘outsourcing’ is making waves in that industry, but job security is a hot topic in the economy in general. The Sasakis’ predicament is a case study and I suppose a metaphor for the problems that the Japan of today as a whole is facing: people set themselves on a course in life but they are, understandably really, ill-prepared for unforeseen uncertainties such as outside influences. When the unexpected occurs they are lost.

Because Ryuhei’s change in status is so sudden he cannot adapt quickly enough – he conceals the shock and shame of redundancy from his wife and children, pretending to go to work then spending the day at job centres and soup kitchens. His attempts at finding alternative employment are almost as laughable as they are genuinely tragic, but in fairness he’s had the way of life he was competent in snatched rudely away and replaced with limited, unfamilar options. Interestingly, he’s not alone. During the course of the film, other respectable-looking men in business suits fall in and queue up with the jobless and homeless, which suggests that the problem is widespread, but never overtly acknowledged.

I appreciated the setting in that it’s the quiet suburban environment of narrow streets filled with small, cosy family homes; the colour palette is full of muted browns, beiges and greys rather than the bright neon and gleaming glass of Shinjuku and Shibuya (it reminded me a lot of Asakusa and Machida actually). I can’t comment on Kurosawa’s credentials as a horror film director since this is the first movie of his I’ve seen but this humdrum environment breeding a palpable sense of unease and impending disaster, coupled with the predicament of individuals at the mercy of unseen forces outside their control, are as effective here as they would be in a psychological or supernatural thriller.

The downward spiral of this film is more pedestrian and everyday than that a horror movie but in some ways is equally alarming. Ryuhei carries on his charade while his domestic authority crumbles; Takashi makes a career decision but hesitates in telling his parents for fear of their disapproval; Kenji seeks escape from being a class misfit by taking piano lessons in secret using his lunch money; Megumi carries on her role with quiet dignity in the face of painful loneliness and isolation, yet it’s clear she has has mounting doubts about her husband’s credentials as the traditional authoritative patriarch.

With the exception of a couple of scenes involving physical violence and raised voices – all the more shocking because of their infrequency – the entire affair is extremely subtle and restrained. The performances are superb, and background music is used sparingly. My only criticism is a sudden divergence in tone late on in the second half which carries a brilliant kind of tragic comedy that made me unsure whether to laugh or cry at its poignant absurdity, but goes against the grain with what precedes it.

Things get back on track for the final arc though, which returns to being stoic and understated. The simultaneous declarations from Ryuhei and Megumi of “Can I start over again?” are followed by moments of almost God-given redemption then a symbolic return home: battered, dirty and exhausted, they and Kenji walk in separately and sit at the dining table in a heart-wrenching echo of the harmonious opening scenes. The only verbal acknowledgement of the strangeness in this return to normality is Kenji’s nonchalant comment on his father’s dishevelled appearance.

The poetic finale speaks volumes with no dialogue at all, holding back from drawing conclusions but leaving things open-ended with an appropriate balance of cautious optimism and the inescapable fact that things are bound to change, whether we’re prepared for them or not.

Above all, the combination of quietly effective cinematography and an unflinching study in the characters and their motivations is what makes this feel so genuine and relevant. It avoids excessive sentimentality over their misfortunes or criticism of their flaws, resulting in a portrait of contemporary Japanese family life that never pulls its punches but stays true to telling a recognisable human story. The intimate view of their lives makes them living, breathing characters rather than the cut-out archetypes the film’s premise may suggest: I was mindful of the mistakes they made, but I couldn’t bring myself to pass judgement on them when their situation has no easy answers.

Classy

I’ve been following High School of the Dead and Shiki only a couple of eps behind people who’ve kept up with them properly but K-On!! is the one thing I’ve found time to watch every week. My earlier attempt at explaining my position only caused misunderstandings, although the resulting discussions made up for the disappointment I felt at the time. I just can’t bring myself around to the view of the hypothetical ‘haters’ for the simple reason that the series shouldn’t elicit a stronger negative reaction than a mere lack of interest…a view I can explain with my view on moe. And cats.

The idea of it being a moe show is in fact relevant to me. Because I don’t consider myself to be a fan of it, nor do I care for working out which of the contradictory working definitions is the ‘right’ one, it might seem strange that I’m enjoying the show partly because it’s a moe series. Incidentally I’m going on it being ‘a non-sexual appeal of cuteness that brings about feelings “Aww…~” from the viewer.’ If that really is what moe is all about, I don’t see why people make such a fuss (positive or negative) over it. Anyway.

K-On!! is well-made, no-brained feelgood TV. I don’t feel any sort of attraction towards a bunch of 16- and 17-year old adolescents either (except for Mio perhaps, since she often behaves like someone older than 17… re: two pics of her here). I couldn’t however put into words why I enjoy sitting down for twenty-five minutes every week watching this sort of thing. That is, until I stumbled on the awesomeness that is Maru.

Image taken from his official blog

Maru is an internet celebrity who’s achieved the feat of being a lolcat in a very literal sense; as opposed to being a meme/fictitious character invented by people with a pirate copy of Photoshop and too much time on their hands. When real-life cats aren’t asleep they provide endless hours of amusement just by being themselves, which is something you either appreciate or you don’t.

In the same way that K-On!! will either entertain you or bore you to death, some won’t see the appeal in the company of a cat as shown in Maru’s Youtube antics. Like K-On!!, there isn’t a planned storyline or underlying message; it’s merely Mugumogu’s photos and home videos of what her pet gets up to around the house. Most cats provide some degree of this entertainment value in addition to the companionship, although Maru is exceptional with his tricks involving the boxes.

Even so, it never fails to put a smile on my face…in pretty much the same way that watching each episode of K-On!! does. Maru is just a cat doing ordinary cute, dumb cat things for the amusement of the viewing public but the girls of K-On!! are doing ordinary, dumb, cute things…and I like both.

This is hardly a great leap for me: Azu-nyan==lolcat

We watch different shows for different reasons. Mock The Week is lowbrow satire on current affairs that makes me laugh, High School of the Dead is an edge-of-the-seat gore-fest, the BBC three-parter of Sherlock was a murder-mystery, Shiki is…well, I’m not sure what to make of it yet. Watch this space and all that. Both K-On!! and Maru are both about doing ordinary cute activities, or doing very little at all.

This is fairly similar to the iyashikei concept, except it’s cheering me up in a way that requires the smallest amount of conscious effort or thought, as opposed to giving the sense of serenity and introspection of Yokahama Shopping Trip or its upbeat spiritual sibling Aria (which coincidentally also features a cat that does very little apart from lazing around and being awesome). I do love iyashikei but I get a similar, yet distinctly different, kick out of K-On!!. Or indeed watching vids of Maru, or sitting around at home with my current houseguest.

I was hoping that the second season would feature more of the music now that Asuza is a full-time member of the band and when they’ve used some genuinely enjoyable songs for the end themes (I don’t care much for the OP Go! Go! Maniac!, although Utauyo! Miracle is an improvement). A personal highlight though was the Fujirock segment because it conveyed how live music events can be so inspiring and how that particular festival has something UK ones don’t: tidiness. Honestly, I’ve promised myself to go one year if only to enjoy the music festival experience with fellow fans who clean up after themselves.

I also love the attention to detail: Mio uses D’Addario bass strings, presumably to suit her student budget (our old bassist swears by Rotosounds), and AKG studio-quality headphones (I love my K-240s when monitoring for the clear sound and the comfort). for a show that seems to pride itself in simplicity and straightforwardness, there are those little things that I still appreciate – deep down, I want it to be more about the music, because that can still convey the message of friendship while taking things further than sitcom-style gags.

As someone who doesn’t usually care for moe, I don’t consider it to be an important factor when deciding whether I enjoy a series or not but I’m hardly offended or turned away by its presence either. My guess would be that there are those of us who are more concerned with it interfering with other elements that make a TV show or film entertaining and successful in what it sets out to do for the viewer.

Beautiful. That is all

So for heaven’s sake, don’t take this as another pointless attempt at rationalising or justifying the K-On!! lovers or haters, or a declaration of what I think moe ought to mean to the rest of you. I’ll save my energy for in-depth intelligent posts on Despera (when it airs) and Mouryou no Hako (when I get around to finishing it). And I’ll save the criticisms for the people who think that The Sky Crawlers sucks. Besides, the state of the Industry is a complex issue that has little, if anything, to do with the appeal of moe in of itself.

And if it starts to get on my nerves, I just sit back and watch a cat play with a box.

Needless to say, this could be the best (or worst, when the time comes to move into a new place) thing to happen to my bookcase in months. To kick things off I picked up Usurper of the Sun by Housuke Nojiri, which went by the tagline “Arthur C Clarke meets Haruki Murakami”, presumably because there aren’t many other Japanese novelists who are familiar to English-speaking readers. Call me cynical, but I’m always wary of advert-speak that promises anything that good.

It doesn’t have much Murakami flavour as far as I can tell but Nojiri’s storytelling is VERY Clarke-ian, and the influence shines clearly through the concepts of the novel and the approach taken in portraying them. In his afterword Nojiri admits that the ‘first contact’ theme is a crowded area of SF so it’s credit to his imagination that the narrative is able to keep surprising the reader and prevents the disappointment you experience when you guess what’s coming up before it happens.

The classic Rendezvous with Rama is one of my favourite novels of this type and Nojiri has made a nice job of updating the idea for an early 21st Century audience, assuming that was his intent. We see the usual descriptions of nuclear-powered spaceships traversing the Solar System – which is nothing unusual in itself – but Usurper of the Sun comes into its own with the attention paid to the way the First Contact pans out.

I won’t toss in spoilers regarding the details, but it’s refreshingly different and convincing, and takes advantage of scientific advances and cultural changes to update the scenario. This is where your mileage may vary: Nojiri sure as hell knows his science and technology so goes into psychology, nanotechnology, planetary dynamics and computer A.I. in great depth.

Even with my own background, I found it hard to follow at points and had to re-read certain passages occasionally. Still, I’d rather my intelligence were challenged than insulted so if you enjoy your science hard, heavy and solid, this is the book for you. Because its terminology is a bit dry and tough to digest, I recommend a strong coffee or two to wash it down though.

The heavy-going and businesslike approach to the storytelling means that the emotional side is left out in the cold a little. The Love Interest Lost In Space is one plot point where Nojiri’s originality momentarily runs dry; hell, even Gunbuster did a wonderful job of a similar thing. Personal lives are mentioned in passing, but it’s all kept at arm’s length.

The choice of Aki Shiraishi as the lead character is I think part of the reason for this. She may not be appropriate from a dramatic standpoint because of this emotional detachment she shows throughout, but that aspect of her is advantageous in other ways. For instance it comes across as a demonstration of what she herself loses during the story’s course, and later draws parallels between her outlook and how sentient life forms in a more general sense interact with the universe around them.

As the one who discovers the first signs of the encounter, she finds a focus and as a result her entire life is consumed by wanting to learn more and meet the aliens face-to-face. Isn’t that, after all, what happens to most of the scientists who change history? Her development from curious schoolkid to potential saviour of humanity doesn’t throw up much of what goes on inside her head, but I think that is the point: even when the reader is kept at a distance from her heart, it’s plain to see what makes Aki tick and how lonely she has become. Okay, maybe there’s a little Murakami creeping in there after all…

I felt more of a sentimental attachment to Aki’s character than I expected but this is helpful when the real stars of the show – the aliens – are by their nature mysterious and for the most part elusive. I suppose it was Aki’s pure intentions and dogged persistence that endeared her to me, but a little warmth would’ve given her an appeal broader than…well, people whose tastes are as odd as mine.

I do wonder if the human element was deliberately underplayed or if it was overshadowed by a desire to put the Big Ideas across. The main reason why I kept reading through the muted feelings and head-scratching jargon however is simply because, like Aki, I wanted to know what would happen next. It certainly succeeds in being a page-turner.

Ultimately, I call it a good read when I come off my lunch break several minutes late because I don’t want to stop. Usurper of the Sun did that (fortunately nobody seemed to notice. Heh). What effect the Haikasoru line as a whole will have on box lifting-related injuries during my next house move however remains to be seen…a new bookcase at the very least is beginning to look certain. I’m very interested in what they plan to bring out next, at any rate.

The current attempt at a solution to the fansub/piracy problem is through the streaming with region-locking and paid subscriptions, i.e. Crunchyroll’s model. I’m not aiming to criticise what CR are doing here: they did great things in giving Eve no Jikan exposure, made last year’s Global Shinkai Day even more special and are so far the only independent site that has made a high-profile attempt to seek the middle ground.

BUT…not every English speaker lives in the US. Yes, there’s only 60 million of us on this damp little rock, but there are fans here. And elsewhere. Region locking is a pain, but unless the contracts between CR and the Japanese licence-holders change, I suppose that issue will stay with us for a while yet. They also dropped the DTO service for reasons that I sadly can’t recall, and don’t offer as much HD content as I’d like either.

Above all other points I make in this post, I firmly believe that the fansubs debate would move forward if the fans/fansubbers and the licence-holders/distributors talked more and eyed one another with suspicion less. Studios don’t want to deliberately piss their viewers off, and fans don’t want to see the film-makers and actors they admire out of work. There IS a compromise here somewhere – I’m strangely optimistic about that.

What would I ask for in an anime streaming/downloading site? If it’s a series or movie I really, really like I’d want a DVD/Blu-Ray so this post isn’t about DVD/BD piracy, or issues associated with packaged media and licencing/distribution thereof. For ‘casual’ viewing, I’d want to watch it like I’d watch an ordinary anime show: being able to see it subtitled every week.

Good sound and picture quality are desirable. Much of Youtube’s content has godawful pixellation and artefacting, which is an experience I find somewhere between staring at the sun and being stuck in a lift with Harriet Harman in terms of discomfort. Newer PCs can cope with 720p and even 1080p, and quite a lot of currently-airing anime is at least 720p, and it looks great.

Broadband speeds vary worldwide. The UK is pretty shabby in that regard but again, not every part of every country has the same speeds as urban areas of Japan and the US. Streaming can be a bit choppy in many places, which is even more infuriating than ropey video or poor resolution; downloading the episode then watching it off your hard drive solves this but (quite rightly really) the Industry types of wary of it. DTO makes it hard to stop piracy since it’s a system open to abuse from unscrupulous viewers who can all too easily ruin the fun for everyone else.

So, what would I do if I were a programming genius with execs from Shaft, KyoAni, Madhouse et al waving contracts at me? The criteria would need to be:

• Decent quality video and audio that can deliver 720p and at least 2.0 stereo, using formats that are compatible with current standards
• The option of live streaming for people with reliable, fast connections and DTO for those who haven’t
• region-locking that *works*…a bit of a bummer, but that’ll have to be thrashed out later
• The option of setting a limit to the timeframe in which the content can be downloaded and viewed
• a system that allows revenue to pay for new licences and site maintenance

The last point is an important one: my personal feeling is that good entertainment is worth paying for. Not necessarily the eye-watering prices those poor Japanese fans pay for their Blu-rays, but a subscription fee is fair enough; CR already uses this, and it’s not a bad idea. The other criteria might sound like a tall order but why do I think it’s possible, at least from a technological/software standpoint? Because the tech already exists, and has been used by millions for some time now.

The answer is obvious for UK residents, but for the rest of you it’s this: BBC iPlayer. To clarify, this is an online service that give access to a lot (not all, due to copyright reasons) of programmes broadcast on BBC TV and radio. After a show is aired it is available on iPlayer streamed, or to download if you prefer.

I personally think iPlayer is one of the best ideas the BBC has ever had. I don’t have a TV so don’t pay a licence fee, but there is some good quality stuff that’s worth watching; if iPlayer required a subscription fee, I’d rather pay it and watch the programmes I like via the internet. It’s a neat way of watching stuff without requiring the infamous TV licence; which is effectively a blanket tax for merely owning a TV set…a stupid idea in this day and age. But I digress.

The clever bit of the iPlayer service is that, if your connection speed can’t reliably support streaming, you can download the programme and watch it later. There’s a timebomb-like feature built in that automatically deletes the file from your machine after a given period, and there’s even a security measure that somehow prevents you taking screencaps (I don’t know how that works, but it does. I tried it). There are even some programmes in high definition, that match the standards of picture of the BBC HD channels.

The iPlayer Desktop application uses on Adobe Air, and can run on Windows or a Mac. Long story short, it works, and fits all the criteria listed above apart from the payment system. So then, the technology exists for viewers to watch their favourite shows but it also has security features built in to allow the site’s webmasters to control who can access the content, and for how long.

I’m suspect there are a lot of other, legal rather than practical, reasons why Crunchyroll’s site and terms of service aren’t ideal and why the fansub/piracy debate rages on. I must confess I’m ignorant to many of them, because right now I’m thinking “what’s stopping it?” If it’s physically getting it to work, there are real-life examples of film and television that is viewable publicly and legally. It works for the viewers AND keeps those corporate folks happy.

The bottom line is that there needs to be freer dialogue between the people who make the shows and the people who watch/buy them. The physical act of getting the content available online however is the easy part…if the rest of the obstacles are insurmountable that’s fair enough, but how cool would it be if the fandom could pull something like this off?

yes, I’m an idiot. I get it

Any minute now, someone’s going to make a point that will make me feel incredibly dumb. I’ve already braced myself for a facepalm that it’ll give my unborn grandkids nosebleeds, so fire away and stop me daydreaming like this. But I at least wanted to try and make a constructive suggestion, because the *real* stupid questions are the ones you don’t ask.

Cat Shit One is very, very different from pretty much everything else around right now, which is reason enough for me to recommend it on its own. The idea of anthropomorphised rabbits rescuing hostages from armed terrorist camels is indeed absurd but it was surprisingly easy for me to forget the sight of cottontails twitching prior to an all-out firefight because it was, with this quirk aside, hell of a lot of fun. So much so that I was able to accept the concept and simply enjoy the action.

I’m reluctant to call the character designs a gimmick for a number of reasons. Firstly, the very sight of them looks bloody weird and plays into the hands of my twisted sense of humour. Secondly, the use of animals’ facial features cleverly avoids the Uncanny Valley you often encounter with CGI/motion capture efforts featuring human characters. The third reason wasn’t evident in the opening episode, but it leaves things open for a deeper message later on: portraying the various factions as different species of animals avoids sensitive issues and potentially serious ramifications for the production team.

That is to say, it’s fine to see rabbits and camels slugging it out but using different nationalities and/or ethnic groups of humans in a similar situation would pretty much force the writers down a serious route and run the risk of offending people (and let’s face it, offending people in this day and age is like shooting fish in a barrel. If the barrel was small. And the fish were already dead). This way, they can be as serious or as jovial as they like and choose whether or not to make genuine Real Life social or political statements as they see fit.

I didn’t detect any meaningful subtext at this stage – it’s basically twenty or so minutes of Rambo-style military action and very few clues concerning the background, but for now that’s enough for me to declare it to be excellent. I suspect this first episode is merely an introduction to the main characters, plus a good advertisment for funding of later instalments; with it being an ONA like Eve no Jikan, we can only speculate about when the subsequent outings will be ready for airing. I reckon there’s a merchandise opportunity for Cat Shit One plushies…

It’s more Black Hawk Down than Watership Down to be sure, but I was really impressed with the way everything was rendered. I used to play Operation Desert Storm 2 with friends at uni, and the general feel of Cat Shit One is like that and the war movies I sometimes watch with my dad (although it might take some convincing to get him to watch CGI rabbits). Considering how it’s an indie piece a la Studio Rikka I was mightily impressed with the CGI – it’s near as dammit to flawless visually, which is no mean feat considering how the big-budget Appleseed led the field five or six years ago.

This includes the details regarding the weaponry and vehicles: it’s telling that the closing credits include a name for the role of ‘military research’, and damn does it show. The terminology, tactics and equipment all look wonderfully convincing, just like a classy first-person shooter or bona fide war movie. The support chopper for instance looks like one of the Russian Mi-24s, which made me wonder who these guys really work for…a private organisation kitted out with export gear, I expect.

The opening credits are, ignoring the obvious factor of the animal cast, just like a proper war movie too. It comes across as being a pastiche with every sign of a few tricks up its sleeve, but is holding them back while the audience adjusts to its quirky premise. The pacing makes the whole episode one long adrenaline rush but at this point it doesn’t really tell you one hell of a lot: Perky is GAR, Botasky is a bit of a wimp but delivers the goods when it matters and the overall experience is a lot of straighforward fun.

Even so, there isn’t much plot to speak of here. Perky and Botasky are sent in on a mission that we see them carry out from start to finish but we’re told nothing about who the CMS are, why they’re there or even the enemy’s objectives. I really ought to read Kobayashi’s original manga because the potential for that socio-political commentary is really interesting to me and the Vietnam era story arcs might fill in the gaps plot-wise. Sadly initial searching suggests that it fell into Out-Of-Print Hell along with a lot of ADV’s titles so it’ll be scanlation-only for the time being.

So, yeah. Cat Shit One has my wholehearted approval. It’s bad-ass and tremendously entertaining, but how the follow-up episodes can build on this is anyone’s guess. I’m certainly expecting a long wait before anything of the sort happens because the artistic side of things strikes me as very time-consuming and labour-intensive. Because such a lot of care and attention has been poured into the production, it’s worth checking out but if the characterisation and plotting can keep the pace I reckon we’ll have another cult classic on our hands.

In the case of Ookami-san and the Seven Companions, I guess it’s fair to say I started watching this because of Ryouko. She’s basically the good old butt-kicking tsundere with a few inches added to her height and has apprently raided Luka Megurine’s backup wardrobe. Which is no bad thing really. The “ZOMG! Those legs go on forever!” observation has been done to death already, so I won’t state the obvious by commenting any further on that. I wish they’d give the poor girl a break on her bra size though…you can’t have everything, y’know?

The question raised now is, should I bother watching something purely on the appeal of one cool character when the storytelling and the rest of the cast are so generic, bland and predictable that the writers might as well have dropped Ryouko into a room full of cardboard cutouts propped up around her? Sadly, no. The narrator and her frequent breaking of the fourth wall is fun though, even though she seems determined to sound like someone’s gran. I suspect her appeal, apparently as a reference to A Certain Magical Index and …Railgun (two shows I haven’t seen), is lost on me.

As far as the idea of ‘guilty pleasure’ goes, I don’t think you can get much better than High School of the Dead. Imagine a George Romero movie in the style of Black Lagoon with the fan service cranked up to eleven and you wouldn’t be far off the mark. Although I wouldn’t say flat-chested is a turn-on (sorry, Ryouko), there’s something not quite right with having boobs twice the size of your head swinging around. Accepting that bit of artistic licence and the pantsu shots aside though, this bloodstained little number could well be a lot of fun in the coming weeks.

The lowbrow ecchi-centric aspects of the production fortunately didn’t draw my attention away from the visuals or the editing, which are suitably smooth, slick and unflinching for the grusome subject matter. The zombie apocalypse thing is so overdone these days that most recent offerings are parody/comedy efforts (Shaun of the Dead and Zombieland being my personal faves) but given the introduction, in which the hero goes from bum to badass and winds up killing his best friend, I’m hoping for some Battle Royale-style character study. How’s that for a slice of fried gold?