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Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Space Transformers

Korea/Austraila. Honestly, I have no idea. Joseph Lai produced it though, and do you really need to know anything more?

It's been too long since we last visited the bizarre world of cut-rate Korean cartoons made by a Chinese guy using Japanese robots and characters and marketed toward Australian television, so let us once again steel ourselves for the bad acid trip that is a Joseph Lai produced cartoon. Lai, to bring up to speed those of you who don't know him, was a producer most famous for taking bits and pieces of cheap Hong Kong movies and splicing them together to form a new movie, usually augmented by freshly shot scenes of white people in ninja outfits. The films border on works of absurdist art masterpieces. With titles like Ninja Phantom Heroes, Ninja Demons Massacre, and Diamond Force Ninja, Lai's films -- often created in conjunction with shadowy men of mystery Godfrey Ho and Thomas Tang -- did far more than make no sense at all. They attained a rarefied air of complete and utter incoherence that has remained largely out of the reach of even the most incompetent of filmmakers.

In the early 1980s, a series of bargain bin Korean cartoons started showing up on Australian television. Like a snake eating its own tail, one movie would freely and generously recycle footage from the others, allowing what had probably been a couple separate movies to then blossom into six or seven movies. And there, at the beginning of every one, was the name of Joseph Lai, set majestically against a disco light backdrop. Lai had purchased the original Korean movies, dubbed them, and sent them off to unsuspecting Australians, who being trapped on their own island-continent, had nowhere to flee. These films have recently been rediscovered and achieved a certain degree of infamy for a number of reasons.


First, they are just awful. I mean, mind-blowingly awful. The stories rarely make a lick of sense. The animation is beyond crude, making even the flagrant lack of attention paid to the Challenge of the Superfriends seem diligent by comparison. Second, and of more importance to the fans who stumbled across these movies in the dollar bins of Wal-Marts across America or on Australian afternoon television back in the day, although the animation and artwork was original, the robots and characters who populated these films were often copies of more famous Japanese counterparts. Anything from Raideen to Gundam to the Space Battle Cruiser Yamato being piloted by the Voltron crew could show up in one of these things. Playing spot the source material becomes almost overwhelming, so multitudinous are the blatant violations of intellectual property. Since Japanese material was banned from South Korea for a long time, Korean audiences wouldn't know the difference (thank to anonymous poster in the comments section of Space Thunder Kids for filling in some of the gaps in our info).

I hope that, as we continue to work our way through the other titles that serve to flesh out this animated Joseph Lai universe, we will continue to pick up bits and pieces of information about the films and how they came to be. At this point, I guess we know they were originally made for Koreans who couldn't watch Japanese stuff, and then were purchased and dubbed by Joseph Lai to distribute in Australia. Somehow, someone got a hold of most of them and put them on DVDs that could only be sold at Wal-Mart.


Of the films in this series, Space Thunder Kids is probably the most mind-blowing, as it was assembled entirely out of the pieces of the other films, presumably by ten different groups working in ten different locations around the world, with no contact between them. It's possible that the various pods and hatches in Lost are actually the hermetically sealed locations where Space Thunder Kids was assembled. So colossal is the ineptitude of this film that it can scarcely be communicated using any human language, though I did my best when I reviewed it a while back. Space Thunder Kids actually ceases to be a movie at some point, and becomes an entirely different form of art so advanced that we humans can't even conceive of it. It is like the high art of advanced race of alien gods, and we have no frame of reference we can use to wrap our heads around it. Short of asking yourself what existed before the universe, "what the hell does Space Thunder Kids mean" is perhaps the most perplexing question of our time.

Hot on the heels of Space Thunder Kids came Solar Adventure, a feature that mixes live-action footage with animation and features a number of robots stolen from The Transformers, among others. Many scenes from this movie also show up, within a different context, in Space Thunder Kids, including the evil machinations of a green alien and a dastardly, goiter-sporting communist leader meant to be Kim Il-sung. Now we turn out attention to yet another member of this elite family of animated wonders, Space Transformers, which dares ask the challenging question: is a microscopic giant robot still a giant robot?


As with most of the films in this series, the earth is under attack from sinister, crudely drawn aliens. We meet them at first when they attack an orbiting space platform that looks suspiciously like the Super Dimensional Fortress Macross, or like the orbiting space platform that showed up at the beginning of Space Thunder Kids. These aliens look human and command robots that pilot larger robots that shoot meteors and carry axes. Why you would need to carry an ax if you can already shoot meteors is a bit of a mystery, but then I reckon you need something for close quarters combat. After the attack has begun, the space fleet gets a transmission from Ivy, the world's most special girl, warning them of an eminent alien attack. Her ability to warn people of things that started happening a few minutes before she warned people of them somehow makes her the lynchpin in Earth's plans to defeat the aliens. Exactly how this helps in the fight against aliens or why Asians are always pinning the hopes of the galaxy on twelve-year-olds is never really explained.

Unfortunately, evil alien leader Tonga knows Ivy is the Earth's most special girl, and so he sends assassins to earth to eliminate the only threat to his dreams of conquering Earth. Meanwhile, Earth's giant robots seem pretty adept at destroying Tonga's invading fleet. But why root for the giant robots when Ivy could save us all by telling us things that are already happening. Despite being guarded by a crack team of giant robot pilots and scientists, aliens manage to infiltrate the hospital where Ivy is hiding and shoot her, thus ending her threat and dashing the hopes of all mankind. No wait, how silly of me. They shoot her, yes, but rather than just using a bullet and killing her, they use a virus ray that causes her to lapse into a coma as she is slowly killed by the disease with which they have infected her. Luckily, this gives the humans time to devise a plan to save Ivy's life. Eventually, they decide the most logical way to deal with the situation is to shrink some giant robots and their crew down to microscopic size, inject them into Ivy, and let them travel through her body on a mission to destroy the disease and save her life. So basically, it's The Fantastic Voyage but with giant robots and Robin Hood's Merry Men. Oh wait, I didn't get to Robin Hood's Merry Men yet.


But you see, once inside Ivy's body, we learn a number of important things about the human anatomy. For example, we are full of planets and suns and swirling spiral galaxies. Some of those planets are inhabited by suspicious but ultimately friendly medieval guys with monk haircuts. And Keebler elves. Other planets are inhabited by green goblins in loin cloths -- presumably the viruses injected by the aliens into Ivy -- who enslave the good peoples and force them to perform random tasks of physical labor when they aren't throwing them into a pit containing a man-eating octopus. Still other planets are populated by sexy women who like to fly around on space platforms and command giant robots and super deformed Gundams who like to watch her take showers.

So begins a series of thrilling battles between giant robots, as well as a scene of a smart-alec little robot (I mean littler than a microscopic giant robot) kicking the hot, evil chick in the butt over and over again, until something completely weird happens in the end which, I think, results in some or all of the heroes dying or something. Or they don't. And then everyone gets out of Ivy, presumably after having usurped the goblin conquest of her internal organs, and the giant robots fly off to beat the alien armada -- without any help or battle plan from Ivy, who they just spent the entire film saving, presumably because only she knew how to beat the aliens. Incidentally, at some point, the aliens go from being human in appearance to being green guys with blue bowl cuts, but at this point in our journey through Joseph Lai productions, this hardly even phases me.


Incredibly, Space Transformers is even more bizarre than Solar Adventure, and while it is more decipherable than Space Thunder Kids, it certainly approaches that film in terms of sheer lunacy. Among other things, it taught me a lot about the human anatomy and what sort of crazy stuff goes on inside the body of a pubescent girl. It is at least as accurate about teen bodies as those old films we watched in middle school, where a boy would think about kissing a girl and as a result, he gets horrid, acid-spewing lesions on his penis. Space Transformers also posits a more hopeful future for human infection, envisioning a future where an infestation of spear-toting goblins and cackling evil hot chicks on flying discs can be taken care of via tiny transforming robots and their sass-talking human crews.

Anyway, I can't help but admire the crackpot imagination behind this scenario. I don't know if these fights actually count as "space" battles." I mean, they are battles that take place within a defined space, and the backgrounds are all Milky Ways and Saturn, but technically, we are inside a teenage girl's body -- a statement which is going to mislead a lot of Google searchers. The body as universe is hardly a new metaphor, but I don't know that anyone has taken it quite as literally as Space Transformers, where the human body literally contains a universe, complete with medieval societies, elves, and spaceships. And of course, the asteroid belt surrounding Uranus. Sorry, but there was no way I getting through this review without at least one Uranus joke.


I doubt that anything will ever unseat Space Thunder Kids as the king of the Joseph Lai animated titles, but Space Transformers comes awful close. It's packed with action, as most of the films are, and everything about it is just so weird. And the culmination of the in-body battle is just bizarre. Suddenly, everything gets super melodramatic and full of tragedy, and there's a nuclear explosion, which can't be good for Ivy. Then everyone inside her dies. At least I think they do. Honestly, it's pretty hard to tell what actually happens. And it doesn't really matter since, in the end, Ivy has absolutely nothing to do with the war against the aliens.

Still, there's plenty of space battles, or whatever space battles are inside the human body, and plenty of robot fights. It lacks the green alien with the big head and Kim Il-sung with his bulbous tumor, but it replaces that with gut goblins and epic spaceship and robot battles, so I'm good.

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Monday, February 05, 2007

Urotsukidoji: Legend of the Overfiend

DIGG THIS ARTICLE. 1989, Japan. Starring Yasunori Matsumoto, Koichi Yamadera, Yoko Asagami, Daisuke Gori, Tomohiro Nishimura, Maya Okamoto, Hirotaka Suzuoki, Yumi Takada, Norio Wakamoto. Directed by Hideki Takayama. Written by Sho Aikawa.

I was having a hard time starting this review, and I'm not sure why. I don't mean that I was caught in some moral dilemma, wondering if I should dare discuss such a filthy, irredeemable piece of trash -- I think we all know how such a moral dilemma would hash out if I'm involved. I guess it was just a case of writer's block, or exhaustion. Or maybe it was the fact that there were just so many things to say, so many approaches that could be taken in discussing the source material, that I was overwhelmed. Perhaps even spoiled for choice. And under a bit of pressure. An epic as vast and sprawling and serious as this demands an appropriately grave and serious demeanor. Would I do the subject justice? Would my review be deserving of such a monumental work of art? In the end, I simply had to accept that sometimes words don't come easy, even to a rambling windbag like me, but like the titular character of the Overfiend, while words may not come easily, they must come never the less.

Which brings me to the disagreeable preface that must be applied to a review of a film of this nature. As regular readers know, I pride myself in ardently defending the standards and decency of the community. Luckily, since the community to which I refer is the Internet, which means pretty much anything short of Hitler jerking off on Jesus while the Savior makes sweet love to a little boy can be considered decent and acceptable. Still, even with the community standards of the Internet thus established, I feel like I should warn some of our less seasoned and no doubt happier readers that the movie about which we're going to talk today is a work of questionable morality and ill repute.


At this point in my career, I don't think any recreated act on film or video could manage to shock or offend me. Amuse, perhaps. Disappoint, sure. But when you've been at this for as long as I have, the disconnect between make-believe and reality becomes crystal clear, and once you've managed that, there's not much point in getting offended by goofy make-believe sleaze. But I understand that not all of you share this particular immunity toward offense, for a variety of valid personal reasons, so allow me to warn you now: Legend of the Overfiend is utter and absolute filth. Unless, like me, what was human in you died a long time ago, you will find this series inexcusably tasteless, offensive, and perhaps even upsetting. In a couple weeks, I'll be reviewing the ridiculously fun and enjoyable Bollywood caper Shaan, and I suggest that if you have heart or soul left in your being, you simply rejoin us then and give this whole horrible Legend of the Overfiend thing a miss.

On the other hand, if you find cartoon tentacle porn more absurd than upsetting, and if you want to slog through a film that is indeed filthy and wretched, but also one of the single most important titles in the history of anime in the United States, then steel yourself, make sure your boss isn't working (I'm writing this at work -- I don't see any reason why you shouldn't be reading it there), and prepare to submerge yourself in a series that is impressive both for how callously offensive and perverse it strives to be while also striving to be colossally epic and vast in scale -- sort of like the Old Testament.


When, during the summer of 2006, Teleport City decided to dig about in the waters of anime from the 1980s, we mentioned on more than one occasion that the eighties were probably the most glorious decade of unfettered excess and decadence in the anime world. The giant robots and melancholy space pirates of the 1970s gave way to hot chicks in battle armor, exploding heads, and the now infamous birth of tentacle porn, among other things. While today's anime market may be choked with cheap hentai titles full of tentacle rape and nurses pooping on each other, it's neither as shocking nor as notable today as it was in the eighties, for two main reasons. First, the eighties did it first, and just about everything that happens today is derivative of the sleazy pioneers of the 1980s. Modern sleazeball anime may have plumbed further into the depths of human perversions and replaced magical demon bodily fluids with actual human bodily fluids, but given how mainstreamed porn and sexual deviance has become (and God bless it!), even the most shockingly sick and twisted modern hentai lacks the punch of its forefathers, if for no other reason than we've seen it all before. I don't know what it says about me or society that a title like Cool Devices can come out, and my reaction is a decadent sigh of boredom and, "Oh, ho hum. He's peeing on his sister."

Second, modern hentai (for you people who don't take time to acquaint yourself with esoteric terms, "hentai" is what people call porn anime so they don't have to call it porn anime) exists largely and almost exclusively within the confines of the porn ghetto. There is very little, if any, cross-over between hentai and the more mainstream world of shrieking blonde ninjas in orange jumpsuits telling me to "believe it!" Of course, I speak only of official production anime; if one needs to find the crossover between porn and mainstream anime, one need only turn to our dear old friend, the Internet, which will allow you to access a whole world of fanfic in which the characters of Naruto lick each others buttholes while fending off an endless attack of bad grammar and spelling mistakes. But that's fanfic, and it's a ghetto all its own. Only Dragonball filk is lower.


There was plenty of underground hentai in the 80s, of course, but there were also several titles which crossed the line (in more ways than one) and either flirted with or achieved legitimate mainstream crossover success. Here in the United States, when anime broke in the latter half of the Reagan era, it was defined primarily by three titles, though only two are ever really acknowledged as having reigned supreme, while the third is filed away as sort of this guilty curiosity that no one really saw, but don't let that sort of anime history revisionism fool you. There were three king hell titles: Akira was the obvious top of the heap, followed by the OVA Bubblegum Crisis, which dominated the home video market for reasons I still cannot fathom to this day. I guess it was all we had at the time, and it was better than watching MD Geist.

The third title comes to us courtesy of one of the creators of the classic anime series Yamato, aka Starblazers in the United States, and even though Akira is named time and again as the defining moment in 80s anime and one of the landmark accomplishments in the history of anime as a whole, it was the bastard son of a writer-director-producer Yoshinobu Nishizaki -- The Nish, as he has become known lately -- that really defined anime in the mainstream press. In between creating Starblazers, delighting generations with Odin: Photon Space Sailer Starlight, and shooting cannons off on his private yacht, Nishizaki found time to serve as producer for a new series which, unlike all his previous ideas, wasn't just a rehash of Yamato. Following the lead of Lovecraft-inspired horror that flirted with graphic sex presented to us in Wicked City, Nishizaki decided that the one thing wrong with that movie was that it only featured some sex thrown in with its violence, and never had the guts to show full-on penetration of a woman by a gigantic demon penis.


And so, as the 90s came to a close and the window for getting a high-profile work of such decadence and depravity was closing, Nishizaki collected together a crew that included director Hideki Takayama (still brand new to the game in 1989, but he's since gone on to direct all sorts of screwed-up demon rape porn, and for some reason, Sakura Wars) and writer Sho Aikawa (who was fresh off the popular title Vampire Princess Miyu and would go on to write for Fullmetal Alchemist), and together, they made a little OVA series called Urotsukidoji, more popularly known as Legend of the Overfiend.

This is a pretty dubious assembly of talent, and one sort of has to stretch the meaning of the word talent to really fit them all in. After all, Nishizaki hadn't really come up with anything memorable since Starblazers, and he seemed to be batshit insane in addition. Sho Aikawa -- who I'd like to think is the same Sho Aikawa who would go on to acting fame in Takashi Miike's Dead or Alive trilogy, but I'm pretty sure it isn't -- may have achieved some degree of respectability with Vampire Princess Miyu, but that was flirtation with respectability, at best, and you have to do much better work if you want to make people forget about you also having written Dog Soldier and Angel Cop. And director Hideki Takayama? Other than becoming the go-to guy for Overfiend sequels and rip-offs, he doesn't have much to offer. But the fact remains that while they may not have been impressive names, they were still names, and they had some legitimate work under the belt. And The Nish, crazy or not, still had Yamato era clout that helped make his own private exploration of ridiculously grotesque and pornographic extremes more of a high profile release than the average piece of hentai naughtiness.


But whatever respectability the Overfiend saga -- and porn aside, it is a saga, complete with a vast and ambitious personal mythology and epic scope -- may have squeezed out in Japan is nothing compared to what happened to the thing when it hit the United States. It became a cult phenom that, for a brief time, very nearly rivaled the status of Akira, albeit with a decidedly different tone in those who talked about it. I remember seeing it for the first time in 1990, when a friend who was heavy into trading VHS tapes to get obscure horror films, ended up with a copy on a tape where it shared space with some Japanese porn movie about a woman pursued by a garbage bag containing her murdered husband, and an underground video of some chick performing "hanadensha," or "pussy arts," such as blowing up balloons, shooting a dart gun, smoking a cigarette, and, umm, filling herself up with squirming, live eels. Yeah, I really don't have any excuse whatsoever, other than it was pretty late, and we sure did laugh a lot.

It was just the first episode of Overfiend, fuzzy and with no translation, so all we really knew was that there was a spectacle on the screen the likes of which we'd never really seen, not even in Wicked City. And we weren't the only ones. Bootleg copies of this "ridiculously screwed up thing from Japan" were circulating like wild fire throughout the cult film underworld, and while many looked on with awe-inspired disgust, that doesn't change the fact that many looked on, always corrupted by a friend waving a VHS tape and saying, "Dude, you have got to see this!" So many saw it, in fact, that the Overfiend eventually crept into mainstream consciousness and became the poster boy for how hideous and corrupt anime was. Not just porn anime, but all anime. It didn't matter if it was the gender bending shenanigans of Ranma 1/2, the turgid teen romance of Kigamure Orange Road, or the epic science fiction of Akira. Overfiend, as far as the local newscaster was concerned, embodied them all, and all anime looked like and was as perverse as Urotsukidoji. If only. I might have finished Kigamure Orange Road if that had been the case.


Of course, it's not like anime was totally innocent of the charges. The 80s were, as we've said, pretty packed to the gills with messed up stuff. If anything, The Overfiend was simply the trends of the 1980s taken to their most logical extreme, or as logical as Nishizaki was ever capable of being, and exploding in the final year of that decade with all the gruesome force of the Overfiend's orgasm blowing some chick's head off in a messy splash of blood, brains, and semen. It was the last gasp of the twisted, free-for-all of the 1980s. After that, anime settled down, and the porn settled to the bottom of the barrel. In time, when old timers would go back and talk about the seminal movies of the 1980s, they would neglect to mention the most "seminal" of them all. If Urotuskidoji was mentioned, it was usually as an offhanded aside, or a sneering condemnation of how this tasteless abomination ruined anime and made everyone thing anime fans were all a bunch of murderous pervs. Rarely will they mention that, for better or for worse, damn near everyone who watched anime in those days saw it. Rarely will they mention that it was, again for better or for worse, a defining title of the era, and that among other dubious claims to fame, it was the first anime feature (when the OVA episodes were edited together to create a feature film) to be released in both dubbed and subtitled format not just to U.S. home video -- but to U.S. movie theaters as well.


The Overfiend gets no respect, and frankly, it doesn't deserve much. The animation is sometimes hit or miss, occasionally nicely realized, and in some cases bordering on great; the story is scatter-brained; and yes, it's packed full of misogynistic violence toward women, underaged sex (though the warning at the front of the film swears the high school characters are all over the age of nineteen), and rape that culminates in exploding heads. It's just not very good. But it does have its moments, and good or not, it played a huge role in defining the formative years of anime, and deserves, if nothing else, to be recognized for its contributions (be there good or ill) and its rightful place in the history of anime. So it was that I decided that, while I wasn't going to champion the series (I save my Nishizaki championing for Odin), I would at least try to put it in it's proper context, and I would do so with the help, should they chose to offer it, of the great and mighty torchbearers of celebrating "old school" anime, the Anime World Order podcast. Of course, they're a podcast, and I'm a written review website, so I don't know exactly how this collaboration will work out, but that's all part of the fun.


Of course, as soon as Gerald from the AWO took me up on the offer, I had to figure out exactly how I was going to deal with such a notorious and admittedly irredeemable piece of filth. The Overfiend, I mean, not Gerald. In my younger years, I would have simply indulged in it with reckless abandon, celebrating the filth and the fury with slimy screencaps and interminable gusto. I am older now, and not so prone to adolescent fits of petty offensiveness, but I'm also still not offended by things that are saucy or stupid, or in the case of Urotsukidoji, both saucy and stupid. And in the end, Urotsukidoji is definitely stupider than it is offensive. In fact, I find the whole thing so absurd, so totally ludicrous as to be inoffensive, because seriously, man, how can anyone take this crap seriously? There are much scarier things in the world and much scarier things in the world of anime, and they are called moe and harem shows, but we'll come to those later.

So in deference to my more sensitive readers who do not share my callous disregard for what you humans call morality, I'll do my best to exercise some degree of restraint, which may be an odd thing to do in the case of Urotsukidoji -- but only just barely, because while I may claim that the purpose of this review is to put this much maligned piece of trash in its rightful place in the pantheon of anime, my real motivation is simply to have a good laugh, which ultimately, is about all you should get from something as completely goofy as the Overfiend.


Our story begins with narration courtesy of a guy who seems to be competing with Tomisaburo Wakiyama as Ogami Ito for the deepest voice in the world. He lays out the basics for us -- demon world and human world, one intruding on the other -- the usual. And there's a chosen one who will rise up and cleanse the world and unite us all while demons with six breasts do it doggy style to clue parents in to the fact that they shouldn't have rented this movie for their kids, even though the kids themselves are no doubt appreciative. Right away Nishizaki clues us in to the fact that there's not going to be much in the way of originality on display in this story. We then meet the nominal hero of our story, a goofy peeping tom named Nagumo, who alternates his days between peeking in the girls' locker room and being licked on the cheek by the number one ace hero of the basketball court during some weird Japanese high school sport in which basketball games are accompanied by a girls' gymnastics routine. Watching everything from up in the rafters is Amano, the new kid at school who no one seems to notice has catlike whiskers. Amano is searching for the titular Overfiend, the super-being foretold by prophecy to be the savior of the world. Amano is pretty convinced that it's that cheek-licking basketball guy, but Amano's sexy sister Megumi is convinced that it's someone else, possibly nerdy perv Nagumo. Either way, once again we see that ancient beings relying on a "chosen one" is always a stupid idea, because the chosen one is always some kind of a chump. Here we get a face-licking basketball star or a masturbating nerd. Nice going, prophecy of old.

When next we meet the brave and noble Nagumo, he is slinking into the school to peep on Ameki, the sweet girl next door on whom he has a crush, and one of the female teachers. When it turns out that the teacher intends to sex up the young student, Nagumo assumes his standard position of peeking in. But when it's further revealed that the teacher is, in fact, a hideous demonic monster that is going to rape Akemi via a twitching tangle of giant tentacle penises that spurt glowing neon goo, well, Nagumo still just sort of squats there peeping through the crack in the doorway. It's not until Amano shows up that the sexual assault is halted thanks to some good ol' magical intervention that results in exploding heads.


The good thing about Legend of the Overfiend is that it doesn't try to trick you into thinking it's something it's not. If you are going to be offended and disgusted by the movie, it makes sure you know that from the very first few minutes. That way, at least you haven't wasted your time. Pretty much everything that will jam pack the rest of the series running time is put up front for your consideration in this opening scene, so you can't say Nishizaki didn't warn you. Personally, as I said before, the whole scenario is so utterly silly and juvenile and presented in such an over-the-top manner that it's really hard for me to feel offended in any way. I would have loved to have been sitting in on The Nish and his crew when they were writing the story for this absurd exercise in the extreme. Although the story itself is presented in a serious fashion, I can't imagine anyone taking it the least bit seriously when they were writing it.

But then again, Nishizaki is batshit insane, so who knows? Whatever sexual and psychological hang-ups he and the society in which he lived might have had are certainly laid bare in The Overfiend. There is an obvious fear and lack of understanding in regards to women. Lesbians are all secretly drooling demons who have hidden their giant penises behind a veneer of femininity. And even as they paint a terrified phobia of homosexuality, they fetishize the penis to a degree that would even make Tom of Finland blush. If you are the type to analyze such things, it's worth noting that The Nish made his millions working on the Yamato series. The original battleship Yamato was a massive World War II ship that was supposed to be the pride and joy of the Japanese people and a symbol of their might. Its construction bankrupted the Japanese military, and during it's first major combat operation, it was sunk by American airplanes. Still, however, the Yamato is held up by many -- mostly men -- as a great symbol of pride despite it being a catastrophic failure. More than a few people have said that the Yamato was nothing more than the "big dick" syndrome. Theirs was the biggest and that made them the baddest. Never mind that the thing turned out to be impotent.


So decades later, Nishizaki resurrects the myth of Yamato's grandeur by creating a cartoon series in which the original ship is recovered from its watery grave and turned into a spaceship that will save humanity. If The Nish had his history straight, then there would have been tremendous fanfare and pomp as the space battle cruiser Yamato was launched. Then it would have been shot down by aliens a few minutes later. But that would have been a pretty lame television series, and since Yamato is one of my favorites, I'm glad Nishizaki didn't go that route. And ultimately, I reckon championing the old Yamato battleship is no different than any other country championing their lost causes.

Anyway, after Yamato, Nishizaki made a show about a submarine that's turned into a spaceship -- completely different from the Yamato series, right? Anyway, you may notice that Nishizaki -- who also happens to be a gun and cannon nut, as well as sporting a fondness for speed boats and big yachts -- seems to have a preoccupation with things that are long and cylindrical in shape. And then comes The Overfiend...I've never seen Nishizaki naked, and likely never will, so I can't say what he's compensating for. However, it's pretty obvious that the man has built an entire career around his obsession with his own penis. Overfiend is just the most overt example.


Anyway, having established that this movie is going to be an affront to all that is decent and tasteful in the world, Overfiend then goes on to lay out the rest of its plot, which has got to be one of the most complex and sprawling mythologies ever grafted on to cheap animation and porn. Nishizaki may be obsessed with dicks, he may fear and/or hate women, he may be ripping off Wicked City, but no one can say that the man didn't have vision or put work into the back story of his infamous masterpiece of the grotesque. Spread over the first few episodes of Legend of the Overfiend, we get a story that spans thousands of years and involves everything from depraved captains of industry to Nazi madmen, to peeping tom high school students. As Amano and Megumi continue to try and ferret out the Overfiend -- or Chojin -- other forces from the demon realm seek to do the same. This includes such demon assassin hits as messing with that basketball guy during his orgy, offering up a giant possessed demon penis that will make the school's resident nerd ultra-potent and powerful if he chops off his own useless little member and replaces it, and finally sending a wizardy uber-being out to kill Amano. Just when you think Overfiend can't possibly get any sillier, it finds a way.


Eventually, Nagumo realizes his destiny, but to the horror of Megumi and Amano, it's not the destiny they expected -- and for all that is ridiculous about Overfiend, the final revelation that basically, the people who believed in the prophecy just got it all wrong, is a pretty nice writing touch. The series ends on a cliffhanger of sorts -- with Amano shedding his human disguise and attempting to take on the Overfiend himself while vowing to survive the carnage that comes from the inevitable destruction of the world. Unfortunately, the series is never fully resolved. The final two episodes of the OVA end up being post-apocalyptic side stories that don't really go anywhere, and subsequent sequel series' were equally pointless. Eventually, the final Urotsukidoji series was just a remake of the first series. If you've seen Odin and suffered through its non-ending, then you might pick up that this is sort of a thing for Nishizaki. Unfortunately, Overfiend does not end by randomly cutting to a Loudness music video.


Not all the blame (or credit -- whatever) for Urotsukidoji can be laid at the feet of Nishizaki. Urotsukidoji was actually created by manga artist Toshio Maeda in 1986. Maeda was working as a porn manga artist and had gotten bored, he says, with drawing the same mundane crap over and over. He decided that what erotic manga needed was a dash of grotesque fantasy. Blending his erotic manga with a Lovecraft-esque sense of the horrific, Maeda more or less invented the tentacle porn genre -- yes, it's a genre now -- with tentacles and nightmarish abstractions of the penis standing in for actual sexual organs as a way to skirt Japanese censorship laws. When Nishizaki seized upon Urotsukidoji as the source for his next masterpiece of anime, Maeda's position as the father of sick and twisted cartoon porn was cemented. Maeda went on to create several more of the more infamous high-profile hentai titles of the early 1990s, including the terrible Adventure Kid, Demon Beast Invasion, and La Blue Girl. Maeda is infinitely proud of his legacy and has reportedly even said that he wants "Tentacle Master" inscribed on his tombstone. Urotsukidoji remain his defining "masterpiece."


You know, Urotsukidoji is an absolute mess. Although the high concept is interesting and intricate, the execution leaves a lot to be desired. And it's still largely just a pornographic rip-off of Wicked City with a bit of Akira thrown in (the scene in which the Overfiend comes full into power and decides to destroy the world is very reminiscent of the finale of Akira). It draws from the same Lovecraftian/H.R. Giger vision of horror as Wicked City. The characters are ridiculous -- after being raped in every orifice by a teacher who turns into a slobbering monster, Akemi shows up for school the next day and is basically no more freaked out than, "Boy, that sure was weird." Nagumo is completely impossible to like as a character. I guess the story is ultimately about Amano and, to a lesser degree, Megumi, which is OK since Amano is the only halfways decently developed character in the whole thing. The animation is often incredibly cheap, with limited motion in most scenes. Effort seems to have been put into the big battles and the demon rape, but that's about it.

But for someone as awful as me, there's a perverse enjoyment to be extracted from the nonsense. For one, I admire the ambition of the story. Most of the tentacle porn that would follow in the footsteps of Urotsukidoji was incredibly weak -- basically, they would say, "There's a demon world, and they rape humans and some people fight them," and leave it at that, knowing that the ultimate goal of their little film is to get some lonely perv off, and he's probably not even going to listen to the plot. That wasn't good enough for Nishizaki. The man had created an expansive universe for Yamato, and even for Odin, and he saw no reason that Urotsukidoji shouldn't enjoy the same epic mythology. Never mind that it was an endless parade of filthy porn and callous rape; he was still going to weave a monstrously complex tapestry to serve as the backdrop Also, as cheap as the animation is in most scenes, one does have to admire the imagination that went into the monster design. There are, after all, a lot of monsters in Urotsukidoji, and no two of them look alike. From hulking wolfman-like monsters to grotesque toadmen that dress like Humphrey Bogart, the sheer number of drooling ghouls the art team dreamed up is fascinating. Of course, at the end of the day, it's all about the giant screaming (sometimes literally) cock, but still, points for wickedly sick imagination.


Finally, there's the finale. Although it leaves almost all of the plot threads dangling and is a weak resolution to the story as a whole, the scenes of mass destruction and carnage as the fury of the Chojin and the whole demon world is unleashed on earth are pretty impressive. They obviously cut costs on the rest of the series so they could deliver on the finale, and at least in that respect, Urotsukidoji doesn't disappoint.

But it's still pretty foul. I wouldn't really recommend it, although I was just as enthusiastic in the old days about convincing unsuspecting friends that they should watch it. But there is something grotesquely fascinating about the whole artistic abomination. The incredible insanity and over-the-top spectacle of it all trumps the nasty misogynistic edge and juvenile penis-obsession and really transforms Urotsukidoji into a sleazy carnival sideshow. You hate yourself for looking, but you can't turn away. It's that car wreck everyone slows down to gawk at. As wretched as it may be, it has a strangely hypnotic power that can draw even decent people into its world of laughing demons and spurting bodily fluids.


It might be worth watching just so you can see the cast list for the English dub. Apparently, whoever worked on it was a little embarrassed, so the English cast list includes names like Chris Courage, Rebel Joy, Rosie Palmer, and my two personal favorites, Lucy Morales and Jurgen Offen. I would assume that the use of such names is perfectly in tune with Nishizaki's high school locker room level of discourse. The dubbing was done primarily for the theatrical cut of the film, which combined the first few OVA episodes into one film and cut out all the scenes of actual penetration. The Japanese cast (most of whom elected to have their names left out of the credits) actually includes a lot of experienced actors, including a lot of people The Nish roped in off the Yamato series and other Leiji Masumoto works. Tomohiro Nishimura, who voices Amano, even worked on My Neighbor Totoro! It's sort of reminds me of all the respectable actors who showed up in Caligula.

If you are interested in the history and evolution of anime, you can't help but pay attention to it. The dang thing played in American movie theaters, for criminey's sake! Newspaper and TV reporters held it up as the sole defining example of "anime," resulting in crusades to have anime banned and all anime fans branded as slobbering perverts, while at the same time, apologists tied themselves in knots trying to write pieces that deconstructed and analyzed the film and trumpeted its artistic merits (it's a cautionary tale about teenage pregnancy or a cautionary tale against blind faith, depending on who's writing the analysis). It was an absolute fiasco, and if nothing else, I always enjoy a good fiasco. As alarmist and shocked as the reaction in the U.S. was, it was even more sensational in England. In the U.K., things were a little more serious. Urotsukidoji practically destroyed the anime market in England, which was only just coming off the high of its infamous Video Nasties years. It took a long time before anime fandom in the U.K. could rebuild itself. Like its titular character, Urotsukidoji destroyed the world so it could rebuild a new and better one in its place. But the fact that it gutted the industry and made anime so incredibly difficult to obtain for many people might be the main reason, far more so than the actual pervy content of the series, so many people harbor a lingering distaste for this anime atrocity.

For me, personally, it didn't make much of a difference. I didn't suffer any of the "anime is all porn and anime fans are all perverts" stigma because, frankly, no one at my high school even know what anime was or was in any position to even hear about Overfiend or anime. everyone in Buckner, Kentucky, was too committed to the new Bocephus album at the time. So I have a much better sense of humor about this series than many other people who did get branded as freaks on account of it may have -- even if they were Miyazaki fans and had never seen Overfiend. I mean, hell, as far as anyone I knew was concerned, if you were watching cartoons, period, you were just a nerd.


At the end of the day, Urotsukidoji is all those things and more -- and less. It is filth. It is irredeemable. It does have artistic merit. It lacks artistic merit. It is shameless and offensive. It is ridiculous and harmless. It was the logical illogical extreme and the culmination of the increasingly outrageous nature of anime in the 1980s. You should avoid it like the plague. You should absolutely see it.

There's really no way to make sense of the controversy and jungle of opinions surrounding the series. At the end of the day, you really just have to see for yourself. Me, I think it's mildly entertaining in spots and ultimately harmless. In fact, as outrageous as the porn aspects of Urotsukidoji may be, when held up against certain aspects of the modern anime landscape, it seems to be little more than goofy doodling -- quaint, almost, perhaps even innocent. And that's because everything is presents is so preposterous that it can't be taken seriously or really looked at as a corrupting agent. No one is going to go out and mimic the Chojin, after all. Compare that to something like the modern moe or harem show -- things that may not feature a giant demon raping a woman and making her body explode with his semen, but instead paint a world where an unlikable loser with no redeeming qualities never the less finds himself in control of a group of slavishly devoted women who worship him like a god. Or moe, in which female characters are so overly precious and innocent and doe-eyed and pre-pubescent that the whole thing reeks of child pornography. These types of shows are far more insidious and perverse than the flashy, over-the-top idiocy of Urotsukidoji. They often appeal to a segment of the population that really does relate in some way to the lead male character and really does let the portrayal of women and little girls affect their opinions of the real world. I don't see Urotsukidoji operating in quite the same fashion.

So yeah. Whatever man. Urotsukidoji is the tawdry piece of pornographic trash you've heard it is; it's also not all that fiendish or corrupting. It's just silly. But it is a major milestone in the history of anime, so if you are the type who needs or wants to understand the evolution of anime, then you pretty much have to deal with Urotsukidoji. It's really not as painful as you think it might be. I mean, I wouldn't watch it with my parents or invite a date over to watch it, but come on: it's so loopy, so genuinely cracked in the head, and so unabashedly over-the-top, and so epic and ambitious that it really stops being offensive porn and starts being nothing more than a laughable freak show. And it does try to be something more than cheap porn. It tries to be really lavish, complex porn. earlier, I made a passing reference to Caligula. Overfiend is definitely the Caligula of anime -- fitting, even, since both films were funded with Penthouse money. They both contain about the same degree of perversion an twisted grotesquery (I'm pretty sure that's not a word -- but it is now!).

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posted by Keith at | 8 Comments


Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Lupin the 3rd: Castle of Cagliostro

1979, Japan. Starring Yasuo Yamada, Eiko Masuyama, Kiyoshi Kobayashi, Makio Inoue, Goro Naya, Sumi Shimamoto, Taro Ishida. Directed by Hayao Miyazaki. Written by Hayao Miyazaki and Tadashi Yamazaki. Buy it now from Amazon.com.

People who are not familiar with the character of Lupin the Third are still likely to have heard of and perhaps even seen this movie thanks entirely to its being the feature film directorial debut of Hayao Miyazaki. Even many non-anime, non-animation moviegoers know Miyazaki's name thanks to the man having single-handedly directing more "timeless classics" than the entirety of the Disney animation studios. These films include My Neighbor Totoro, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, Kiki's Delivery Service, and more recent films like Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away, and Howl's Moving Castle. Several of his films (most notable Mononoke and Nausicaa) consistently rank among my top films of all time, and I've never let a friend have a little kid without me sending them a copy of My Neighbor Totoro as a gift (usually accompanied by a copy of Godzilla's Revenge, as both should be required viewing for any wide-eyed and adventurous kid who needs to be brought up proper).

But before Miyazaki became the greatest animation director of all time and left footprints of glittering gold everywhere he went, before he waved his hand and magically made the streams of Japan run rich with gumdrops and chocolate and all the Kit-Kats that kids taking school entrance exams buy for good luck, Miyazaki was naught but a lowly grunt director for the hugely popular Lupin the 3rd television series during its 1970-1971 run. At this point, I'm going to assume you are already familiar with Lupin III. If not, why not take this as a prime opportunity to familiarize yourself with him and his accomplices via our sort of half-assed history of the character in the previously posted review of Lupin the 3rd: The Mystery of Mamo? Miyazaki was one of several directors who worked on the series, alongside Yasuo Otsuka, who was to be the animation director for this movie. Otsuka had a long career in animation, stretching back into the 1950s and including work as an animator on 1960's animated Monkey king adventure Saiyuki -- released in the United States as Alakazam the Great -- and Puss in Boots. In 1971, he became one of the directors for the Lupin television series, then went on to work on Panda! Go Panda and Future Boy Conan.

The script was written by none other than Japanese cinema maverick Seijun Suzuki. There are quite a few anime fans whoa re unfamiliar with live action Japanese cinema, and thus aren't familiar with Suzuki's reputation or his groundbreaking and delirious films. Similarly, quite a few fans of Suzuki's films don't realize that he dabbled in anime, working with his team to provide scripts for the Lupin television series as well as directing episodes of the 1984 run and the 1985 feature film, Lupin III: Legend of the Gold of Babylon under the pseudonym Kiyoshi Suzuki (unfortunately, one of the Lupin movies that is missing in action on domestic DVD as of this writing). Suzuki's oddball yakuza films like Branded to Kill and Tokyo Drifter are often sited as being inspiration for Lupin creator, Monkey Punch, along with the original French pulp tales of Arsene Lupin, obviously (Lupin III being his great grandson).

Unfortunately, Otsuka didn't seem to care for Suzuki's script. He brought in Miyazaki as director for the film, under the condition that Miyazaki provide him with an entirely new plot. I have no idea what Suzuki's script was about, or if portions of it were salvaged for his later Lupin adventure. Even with Miyazaki's new script approved, however, the movie had to be significantly altered during production due to a ridiculously tight shooting schedule that left them only four months to finish the film. According to Miyazaki, the finale was a much grander affair in the script than we got on screen -- which must be something, since the finale is pretty spectacular as is. Still, Miyazaki has frequently expressed disappointment that an overly demanding timetable forced him to go with what he saw as a substandard sequence. As for what he originally had in mind, I can't say, because I don't think Miyazaki himself has ever said.

In one of those twists of fate, the third Lupin film was originally slated to be directed by Mamoru Oshii (who would go on to greater fame with Patlabor and Ghost in the Shell, among others), unitl Oshii's treatment was judged too weird, causing producers to give the job to Seijun Suzuki. Who would have every thought that Suzuki, of all people, would ever be brought into a project to replace someone who was deemed too freaky?

Shooting schedule aside, the film Miyazaki eventually made is Castle of Cagliostro, and it is consistently hailed as one of the hallmarks of anime and animation in general, which is an honor that would soon become synonymous with the work of Hayao Miyazaki. In Castle, one can already see the soon-to-be familiar Miyazaki style emerging in both the character design and the story. After the lusty, bawdy Mystery of Mamo, Castle of Cagliostro is a decidedly more innocent take on the film, and just as fans who know Lupin exclusively through Cagliostro must have been shocked the first time they sat down and watched Mystery of Mamo, likewise fans of the television series and first film must have found Miyazaki's big-screen interpretation of the anti-hero thief a bit of a shift in gears. However, Miyazaki remains true to the spirit of the character and his cohorts (though we've rarely seen and would rarely see again Fujiko wearing such modest outfits) and plants them in the midst of what is undoubtedly one of the finest action-adventure yarns ever spun for the cinema.

We pick up, as is often the case, with cat burglar Lupin (Yasuo Yamada) and former yakuza hitman gone freelance Jigen (Kiyoshi Kobayashi) having just pulled off a heist that results in their tiny European style car being filled to bursting with stolen cash. The instant you see Jigen and Lupin in one of those little European cars, you know you're about to get a chase scene. The little European car chase scene is a staple of the Lupin series, and every bit as integral to the formula as the ski chase is to Bond movies. For the record, Lupin favors the 1969 Fiat 500 from Italy.

Lupin and Jigen soon discover that the loot they've just stolen is all counterfeit, but this seeming setback puts them hot on the trail of a set of legendary counterfeiting plates that are so perfect that there's practically no way to tell real money from counterfeits made with these plates. The trail soon leads them into contact with an innocent young woman, her boorish snob of a guardian, and a conspiracy that has affected the world's monetary markets for centuries. Needless to say, the adventure will also cause Lupin and Jigen to cross paths once again with brooding samurai Goemon (Makio Inoue) and big-bosomed sometimes-competitor, sometimes-partner thief Fujiko (Eiko Masuyama), who manages to keep her clothes on for the entire film, as opposed to the last movie, where she was constantly falling out of whatever garment she half-heartedly threw on. Despite its status as an animated feature, Cagliostro is still one of the most breathtaking, pleasing, and flat-out fun swashbuckling adventures ever filmed, stuffed to the gills with sword fights, guys scaling castle walls, dungeons full of skeletons, hijinks in a gyrocopter, secret chambers, and other quality adventure staples.

The movie is set in magical Miyazaki-Land. Drawing on fairytales and Japanese misconceptions about what it must be like in Europe, the world of Castle of Cagliostro is all twisting medieval roads, rolling green fields, glittering lakes, crumbling ruins, and majestic Bavarian style castles. It's a dreamlike fairytale amalgamation of Europe past, present, and purely imagined, complete with a knight in shining armor (or at least in a garish seafoam green blazer), an usurper to the throne (or the fortune), and a damsel in distress who gets locked away in the tall tower of a castle. Just as Western films tend to present idealized and stylized representations of Asia, here we get a highly stylized hallucination of a Europe that doesn't quite exist but seems imminently believable since so much of the iconography is so familiar (European films themselves would create equally fairytale like representations of their own past in the sword and sandal adventures of the 1960s). Miyazaki spares no artistic expense in bringing his modern fairytale Europe to life. Every hand-drawn frame is stuffed with detail. The characters are constantly in motion (Lupin is, as usual, a flailing bundle of gangly limbs) and backgrounds are lush and colorful. As with all of Miyazaki's work, Castle of Cagliostro is a testament to the potential of classic, hand-drawn, pre-computer assisted cel animation. For my money, only Akira and some of the films from director Rintaro can match Miyazaki for the sheer amount of gorgeous detail they fit into each frame.

Beautiful artwork can only get you so far, however. The rest is up to the characters and the story. The script written by Miyazaki and Tadashi Yamazaki (aka Harauya Yamazaki, who would go on to work on Space Adventure Cobra) is a perfect blend of fairytale romance (in the purest definition of what the word used to mean), comedy, and action setpieces that are highlighted by the aforementioned car chase, a battle with razor-clawed ninjas (or whatever the Frenchy butler equivalent of ninjas would be), and the climactic clock-tower showdown. Miyazaki keeps the film quick-paced without ever glossing over detail or skimping on character development. What I really like about the script here is that it is scaled back. There is always a tendency when a character makes the transition from television (or manga, or American comic books) to movies to make the story in which they find themselves a huge "save the whole world" sort of affair. Mystery of Mamo definitely gave in to that temptation (though it was still an incredibly good movie), and while it's fun to see the character operating on such a grand stage, I appreciate that for the second film, rather than go even bigger and more outrageous, things were reigned in. Cagliostro is a much more intimate film, which allows for greater character development, but at the same time it boasts action scenes that are even better and more thrilling than what was seen in its more sprawling predecessor. Although the implications of the counterfeiting conspiracy could potentially affect the whole world, at its heart, Cagliostro is simply the fairytale story of a hero rescuing a damsel from an evil jackass.

Each of the primary characters is easy to like, even when they were at their greediest and most ribald in the previous film, but Cagliostro really excels at making Lupin and his crew into characters about which you care, which makes the story and action much more enthralling. They're helped to no small end by Count Cagliostro himself, who is the picture perfect brutish, rich jerk that fans of Lupin so love seeing their hero take apart. Caught in the middle of it all is poor old Inspector Zenigata (you didn't thin they would leave him out, did you?), voiced as usual by the superb Goro Naya. As would become common in the cinematic adaptations of Lupin, Zenigata starts out the film determined to arrest Lupin at all costs, only to later be forced into an uneasy truce with the thief when he discovers a far greater evil than Lupin's sticky fingers.

Miyazaki's experience with the characters through working on the television show is obvious, as is his desire to do something a little different with them. Cagliostro isn't what you'd call a reimagining of the characters, but it is markedly different without every betraying what draws people to this lovable cast of rascals. Lupin is still a rascal, but his fiery loins are temporarily in check as he throws himself into rescuing Countess Clarisse (Sumi Shimamoto) from her overbearing and abusive guardian, Count Cagliostro (Taro Ishida), who can only maintain his hold on the Cagliostro fortune by dominating young Clarisse. In fact, Lupin seems even more committed to the welfare of this young woman -- completely without sexual advances, for once -- than he is to uncovering the secret of the counterfeiting plates. Although knight errant a departure for Lupin, the story makes the shift in motivation is well explained and completely believable. For once, he truly is a gentleman thief. Even Fujiko also seems less interested in the double-cross. Jigen and Goemon are their usual gruff, lovable selves, but all of the characters seem infused with a more innocent energy than we've seen before.

Countess Clarisse (named after the original French pulp novel Lupin's wife) does little more than fulfill the doe-eyed damsel in distress role and foretell Miyazaki's lifelong obsession with young princesses. She looks almost identical to Nausicaa (though most of Miyazaki's young female protagonists look similar), and the design of her character stands out somewhat compared to the design of Lupin, Jigen, and Goemon. Lupin had a long-standing established look, but Miyazaki also possesses a very strong sense of how he wants his material to look. For the most part, he manages to adapt each of the characters to his style, keeping them looking like they should, with just a few tweaks here and there. Clarisse, however, is pure Miyazaki. And even though she's the weakest of the characters, it hardly matters since it's up to Lupin to carry most of the story anyway. And he's written to do so with a refreshing gusto. Even though they are only cartoons, it's easy to forget that and see Lupin as an actor who is absolutely excited about the movie and giving his role every ounce of energy he has. If you have ever doubted the ability of an animated character to really act, then Castle of Cagliostro should banish those thoughts from your mind. It's not just the voice acting, either -- Miyazaki and his staff put tremendous effort into facial expressions and body language. It is far and away the easiest time I've ever had forgetting that what I was seeing was animation.

This was the final go-round for Miyazaki in the Lupin universe, save for returning to direct a couple episodes of the 1980 run of the series, under the pseudonym Tereki Tsutomu. He worked a bit more in television during the first half of the 1980s, then in 1984 directed one of my absolute favorite films, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. In 1986 came Laputa, Castle in the Sky, followed in 1988 by My Neighbor Totoro. After that, the sky was the limit, and Miyazaki became one of the biggest -- if not the biggest -- name in Japanese animation in particular and Japanese film in general. During the dark days of the late 1990s and early 2000s, when the Japanese film industry seem to crumble entirely, Miyazaki films were the only domestic productions Japanese moviegoers would bother to go watch in the theaters.

Which is ironic in a way, because Castle of Cagliostro was an infamous flop upon its initial release, panned by filmgoers for being too sweet and childish and not at all what they demanded from the thieving rakehell with whom they'd fallen in love. It was a family-friendly version of Lupin, albeit family friendly in the classical sense of the word, which meant you could still have smoking, shooting, skeletons, and ninjas with razorblade claws. Like the films of Akira Kurosawa, Cagliostro didn't find any success until it sought it overseas. It was the first animated film to ever be screened at Cannes, and Western fans, unfamiliar with the Lupin III character but able to recognize the European backdrop and universal adventure appeal of the movie, championed its cause. Decades later, the initial cold shoulder given the film has been all but forgotten and Castle of Cagliostro has taken its rightful place among the upper echelons of animated classics.

Even people who find Lupin irritating can probably rally behind this film. It's packed with everything good adventure filmmaking should have. There are plenty of films in the world that have been tagged with the "one of the greatest films ever made" hype, but Cagliostro is the rare movie that really lives up to the hype. It's not often that you can find a movie that is this energetic and fun. It's hard not to grin like an idiot through the whole thing, because it's such a recklessly enthralling joy ride.

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posted by Keith at | 4 Comments


Monday, June 26, 2006

Lupin the Third: Mystery of Mamo

1978, Japan. Starring (original Japanese language) Yasuo Yamada, Kiyoshi Kobayashi, Eiko Masuyama, Makio Inoue, Goro Naya; (English dub) Tony Oliver, Richard Epcar, Michelle Ruff, Lex Lang, Jake Martin. Directed by Soji Yoshikawa. Written by Atsushi Yamatoya, Soji Yoshikawa. Buy it now from Amazon.com.

I had the bright idea of getting a three-part series review done, but it was a hard road to walk, and I was badly in need of some shut-eye after a night that ran on until four in the morning and involved four pints of Newcastle at a local pub washed down by three science fiction cocktails that glowed unnatural colors, bought from a posh bar hidden in a back room of a Japanese udon restaurant. An hour train ride home in a slightly tilting world was followed by some cold water and a viewing of Space Thunder Kids, which did more to screw me up than any amount of drinking could ever accomplish. I finally managed to drift off to sleep at precisely the same moment the alarm went off to wake me up. An hour of the snooze button, a cold shower, and eight ounces of skim milk and whey protein later, and I'm out the door on the way to work, buried in a Kem Nunn book for the duration of the train ride that takes me to a day at the office that passes sluggishly. After work was supposed to be more of the same, and thirty-four is neither too old nor too young but it is the sort of age you hit and realize that you can't keep going like you used to be able to. So I cashed in early and bowed out of a second night of decadence and debauchery and unclad gyrating strangers sitting on my lap while I downed a scotch and watched another twenty dollar bill vanish, and I decided to simply hit the pavement and head for home where the scotch was cheaper and the music was better.

But you guys and dolls are our loyal readers, so you know the Teleport City lifestyle. This is how we roll. One night it's all Japanese bartenders in tuxedos and women slinking around poles while I trade wit and whiskey with a dame in a short black dress, and the next day it's off to work then home to watch and review a Lupin the Third movie as I work my way steadily through a bottle of Soca rum and a bag full of limes and split my brain between analyzing an old Japanese cartoon and trying to account for the hours of four and six in the morning, until I remember that I was watching Space Thunder Kids and finishing off a bottle of Orangina while doing my best to figure out what was in the glowing red drink I'd had just a couple hours earlier. It was, to say the very least, a strange way to start an anime review, but this is me we're talking about, and the anime is Lupin the Third, so it all seems fitting somehow. Let this be a lesson to you though. If you live the life the way I encourage you to live the life -- full of fast women, cheap movies, and free-flowing booze -- make sure you space the nights out a little better.

Lupin the Third is something we should have talked about a long time ago. If I was ever to put together a list of movies that would serve as examples of how a man should live his life, Lupin the Third would be at the absolute top of the list, right next to the Sean Connery James Bond movies, Danger; Diabolik!, and that scene in The Ambushers where Dean Martin's bed slides forward and dumps him and his hot chick of the week into a bubbly hot tub with a bar that drops down from the ceiling. Anything less is unbecoming of a man.

Created by Japanese artist Monkey Punch (surprisingly, not his real name) in the 1960s, Lupin the Third was a mixture of James Bond, Matt Helm, Cary Grant from To Catch a Thief, and whatever guy you can think of who grabs boobs a lot. Bill Clinton, I guess. Lupin the Third was meant to be the globe-trotting super-thief great grandson of Arsene Lupin, a much beloved French pulp story character who was very much the "gentleman thief." Lupin the Third jettisons the gentleman part most of the time but excels in the thievery department. Quite in contrast to his famous relative, Lupin the Third is a crass, horny, occasionally sleazy, always smart-alec guy with a weakness for beautiful girls. Together with his parters in crime Jigen (a former yakuza hitman and reportedly the greatest crack shot in the world) and Goemon (a guy who identifies a little too heavily with the romantic ideal of the mysterious, wandering samurai), Lupin trots the globe in search of treasure to be found, banks to be robbed, chicks to be nailed, and smug rich guys to be kicked in the jaw.

Complicating Lupin's life are two more characters: dogged Interpol inspector Zenigata, whose entire life revolves around finally arresting the wily Lupin; and Fujiko (whose name means "peaks"), a big-breasted flirt who is sometimes Lupin's partner, sometimes his rival, and usually both.

And there you have the simple set-up for one of the longest-lived characters in Japanese pop culture. Lupin the Third dominated manga and television for years before finally making the jump to a feature film, The Mystery of Mamo, in 1978. Castle of Cagliostro followed shortly thereafter, and then much later and after a few other films, another movie called Dead or Alive was released. Since then, a whole slew of Lupin movies have been released, some better than others, all highly enjoyable if you are a fan of the series (some enjoyable even if you aren't). We'll be looking at abovementioned three films because: 1) the first one was the first one; 2) the second one marks the feature film directorial debut of regular Lupin television series director Haiyo Miyazaki, who would go on to create such critically- and fan-acclaimed films as My Neighbor Totoro, Spirited Away, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, and Fist of the North Star (I could be wrong about that last one, butI'm pretty sure); and 3) Dead or Alive is directed by Lupin creator Monkey Punch. So each one has its own historical significance, as well as being snapshots of how a character can evolve with advances in anime technique and storytelling while also remaining essentially the same, unchanged character that everyone loves. Well, everyone but my friend Lyn, who I thought would be a huge Lupin fan until I brought it up and she flew into a rage and boldly proclaimed that she would rather be forced at knifepoint to watch a One Piece marathon than ever waste another second on seeing anything involving Lupin the Third. Man, just when you think you know someone...

Mystery of Mamo marks the first time Lupin appeared on the big screen (unless you count the live-action film, which I guess counts, so it's the second time, but first in pure animated form), and coming hot on the heels of the revival of the television series in 1977, that meant that the movie was going to basically do everything the series did, only bigger and with more bared tits. Lupin was snottier, the heists were crazier, and Fujiko was nakeder -- what more could anyone ask for? How about knockout action setpieces, great animation, a funny script, and a plot that manages to be completely over-the-top weird yet somehow still manage to work in the world of Lupin, which was always grounded in reality -- or at least the kind of reality that allows you to drive little European cars up the side of mountains or down pyramids.

Mamo begins with the death of Lupin the Third, which comes as a major shock to Lupin the Third when he hears about it. This initial puzzler sends Lupin, Goemon, and Jigen on a wild quest that brings them face to face with the United States Navy and a mysterious, reclusive billionaire named Mamo, who happens to look like one of those freaky blue kids from Akira, only with bad "aging record label executive" hair and a lavender leisure suit worn with white platform shoes and a bow tie. One thing the Lupin franchise has always been is a challenging roadmap to high fashion. If you watch this movie then follow the advice doled out by Walt "Clyde" Frazier in Rockin' Steady: A Guide to Basketball and Cool (sample: "I slap cologne all over my body -- lookin' good, smellin' fine"), then you, too, will soon find yourself raiding pyramids and making time with busty cat burglars or suave international men of action.

Mamo, it turns out, is up to far more than setting fashion trends, and before the end of things, Lupin and crew will find themselves in a race to save the whole of human race from annihilation.

Secret of Mamo crackles with fun and action. It's every frame is infused with kinetic energy and a lusty gusto that makes the movie a ton of fun from beginning to end. The jokes are good, the action is spectacular, and the characters are expertly written and used. No real surprise there. With Monkey Punch's brilliant original creations to work with, scriptwriters Atsushi Yamamoto and Soji Yoshikawa (also the director) had excellent source material. Yamamoto was already a highly regarded screenwriter, having penned the script for the outrageous, ground-breaking Seijun Suzuki-directed gangster film Branded to Kill in 1967 and the wild girl gang exploitation classic Stray Cat Rock: Sex Hunter from 1970 and starring exploitation film goddess Meiko Kaji, best known for her role in Lady Snowblood, the live-action films based on the Kazuo Koike manga of the same name, and the Female Convict 701 Scorpion films. He also wrote and directed a 1967 film called Inflatable Sex Doll of the Wastelands, which is something I know nothing about -- and I do sorely regret my ignorance.

He was a screenwriter with one foot in the avant garde Japanese new wave and the other in sensational pulp exploitation. Stray Cat Rock was directed by one of our favorites, Yasuharu Hasebe, a protege of Seijun Suzuki and also the director of the trippy go-go spy adventure film Black Tight Killers, as well as the Female Convict films, Bloody Territories, and the old Specterman series that only I seem to love. Obviously, he was a superb candidate for writing a big screen Lupin adventure, even though he'd had no real experience with anime. Despite being a cartoon, Lupin is a perfect fit with Yamamoto's list of credits. It allows him to blend outrageous action, psychedelic art design, saucy sexploitation, and cutting-edge wit to a world brimming over with cool hitmen, boob-grabbing super-thieves, and insane Interpol agents, as well as a weird blue guy with Edgar Winter hair and white loafers.

Equally inexperienced with anime -- and inexperienced with just about all aspects of filmmaking -- was director and co-writer Soji Yoshikawa. Mamo was his first -- and apparently only -- credit as a director, though he did go on to write scripts for Lensman and Armored Trooper Votoms during the eighties. His inexperience doesn't show, though, as Mystery of Mamo is crisply directed and magnificently paced, taking full advantage of the inherent chances for action, tension, and comedy in every scenario. The world of Lupin is larger than life, and the team of Yamamoto and Yoshikawa work in perfect harmony with character designer Yuzo Aoki (a veteran of the Lupin television series) to breathe life into the brightly-colored world of ridiculously curvaceous dames and amusingly-contorted men. Lupin is all flailing limbs and flapping blazers, just as likely to run away screaming from a situation as he is to stand his ground and deliver a knock-out punch to some chump's jaw. And Fujiko -- frequently unclothed during the film -- seems like an obvious influence on other "hot thief with a heart of gold" characters -- namely Cowboy Bebop's Faye -- and Lupin bears more than a few similarities with that same show's Spike Speigal (they even have similar dress sense and footwear). Ditto Jigen and Jet, who sport similar bizarre facial hair and gruff attitudes. However, I don't know that you'd really say stoic samurai throwback Goemon is especially similar to Ed.

The acting is uniformly top notch. They just hired all the same people who worked on the series, including Yasuo Yamada (Lupin), Kiyoshi Kobayashi (Jigen), Makio Inoue (who joined the Lupin series in 1977 as the voice of Goemon, replacing Chikao Otsuka), Eiko Masuyama (as Fujiko, also from the 1977 series, replacing Yukiko Nikaido -- although it was Eiko who voiced Fujiko in the original promotional clip that was used to sell the series in 1971), and the venerable Goro Nayo as Inspector Zenigata (Nayo was last seen around these parts in our review of Crusher Joe). Obviously, each of these people is intimately acquainted with the character they inhabit, and the transition from television to the big screen is smooth and seamless.

The English-language dub is also quite good. The voice actors for the Lupin series are, by this point, almost as familiar with the characters as the original Japanese cast. The English language cast includes Tony Oliver (who always does a superb job as Lupin and was last heard here when we mentioned the English dub on Golgo 13: The Professional), Richard Epcar as Jigen (now doing the English dub voice of Bato in Ghost in the Shell and also credited as directing the English-language version of Mamo), Michelle Ruff as Fujiko, Lex Lang as Goemon, and the hilarious James Martin as Zenigata (gotta admit I actually like his voicing of Zenigata more than the original Japanese). All of these people had experience dubbing the 1977 Lupin series, and although Mamo and Lupin came very in the careers of each performer, they're all exceptional at their job (which is why they're all still doing it). I generally prefer the original language, but truth be told, I have absolutely no problem listening to any of the above English language actors. They do a top notch job and have, in many was, become every bit as definitive a chorus of voices as the original actors.

Some parts of the movie seem to have been redubbed for the recent DVD release. An American representative sounds (and looks vaguely) like Henry Kissenger, which given the character design, I assume was part of the original plan. But the voice of the President of the United States is decidedly George W. Bush-ian, and I have a pretty rock solid belief that that's not how it was originally. If it was, then that's just amazing!

Still, given the quality of dubbing from the main players, it's a minor gripe (and I rarely consider leaving the original language off a disc to be minor), and you will quickly forget as soon as you get caught up in just how much fun Mystery of Mamo is. Without a doubt, one of my favorite anime movies, and one of the high water marks for anime. It's got action, jokes, insane escapes, plot twists galore, lots of boobs, and a brash, snotty aesthetic that seems straight out of punk rock.

Amazingly, things would get even better, although markedly different, just one year later when the second big screen Lupin adventure was brought to life.

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Friday, June 02, 2006

They Were 11

1986, Japan. Starring Akira Kamiya, Michiko Kawai, Hideyuki Tanaka, Toshio Furukawa, Tessho Genda, Hirotaka Suzuoki, Norio Wakamoto, Michihiro Ikemizu, Kozo Shioya, Tarako, Tsutomu Kashiwakura. Directed by Satoshi Dezaki and Tsuneo Tominaga. Written by Moto Hagio, Toshiaki Imaizumi, Katsumi Koide. Purchase from Amazon.com.

They Were 11 continues a recent trend for me, which is visiting old anime titles that, for one weird reason or another, I never actually got around to watching back in the day. In the case of Crusher Joe, it was because I didn't think the title sounded interesting. Realizing how wrong I'd been about that movie after finally watching recently, I decided to investigate another title I'd skipped over for an even more bizarre and nonsensical reason.

I have no idea why I thought this, but for years I labored under the false impression that They Were 11 was another "team of spunky girls save the galaxy" type OVAs in the spirit of Gall Force or Dangaioh. I have absolutely no idea why I ever got this notion stuck in my head. It's made all the sweeter by the fact that not only is They Were 11 not a "spunky girls saves the galaxy" movie, but there aren't even any girls in it period. Well, not really. I'll get to that. I'm trying to remember why I ever though it was another Gall Force sort of thing, but about the best I can come up with is that I should chalk it up to seeing the old VHS box art from a distance on a day when I wasn't wearing my glasses. And it was hot. And maybe I was drunk, even though it would have come at a time when I was going through my straight edge phase. So I was blind, uninformed, and drunk on sobriety when I spied the box from across a parking lot and thought to myself, "Hmm, that looks like it'd be sort of like Dangaioh. I didn't really find Dangaioh all that interesting. I think I'll watch Crystal Triangle instead."


Once again, however, the polite suggestion of friends and the good graces of the DVD industry have conspired to convince me that I really should have seen this movie a long time ago, back when I was wasting my time by doing things like watching stupid Guyver OVAs instead of watching Crusher Joe and They Were 11. Not that I condemn people who liked The Guyver. I know there were a lot of fans of the show back in the day, but it never really did anything for me. Of course, I could just be suffering a case of sour grapes, as I still harbor a grudge over the fact that no television network was interested in my idea for the McGuyver television series, in which a high school science teacher finds the Guyver bio-suit and proceeds to don it while using the practical application of Mr. Wizard-style science to solve a variety of crimes and cases of espionage, or in the instances when scientific ingenuity can't provide a solution to the week's predicament, he shoots a bony spike out of his elbow and through some guy's skull.

They Were 11 is an interesting take on sci-fi anime from the eighties, and definitely a marked departure from the vestigial space operas overflowing from the previous decades and the wham-bam sci-fi actioners that defined the eighties. There is really only one action scene in the entire movie, and that's a pie fight. Yet despite the dearth of robots on roller skates shooting cannons at each other, They Were 11 is an engaging, tense, and engrossing piece of science fiction that makes you feel like it's action-packed even though it isn't. The basic premise was derived from an old Japanese short story (I believe) about a group of children at a playground who suddenly realize that there is one more child there than there should be. There's a good chance the extra kid, whichever one he may be, is some sort of monster. In They Were 11, we have a group of potential space cadets vying for coveted spots in the galaxy's premiere space flight school. After passing a variety of tests, the cadets receive their final assignment: a group of ten are to board a derelict space craft, get it semi-operational again, and successfully staff and maintain it for a certain length of time. The only contact they will have with the outside world is via a panic button which, if pushed, will call in a rescue squad but also automatically fail everyone on board and disqualify them from obtaining entry to the academy.

Upon arriving at the ship, the cadets -- who have never met one another -- realize there are eleven people on board. The first assumption is that a simple administrative mistake has been made. Then it's posited that this mysterious extra person is part of the test. But when the cadets discover bombs strewn about the old ship and begin to uncover its doomed past, a third possibility emerges: that the eleventh member of the team is a terrorist. Unwilling to forfeit their chances at passing the test by pressing the panic button, the eleven cadets split their time between trying to solve the mystery of what happened to the ship with trying to solve the mystery of who is the false member of the team.

Although They Were 11 falls pretty frequently into the classification of space opera, it's really less of an opera and more of a space parlor mystery, the sort of thing you'd find on a British stage or an Agatha Christie book. It's a potboiler. There's plenty of the typically cool future tech we expect from eighties' anime movies -- lots of cool spaceships, laser guns, weird spores, and so forth, but the concentration is really on the characters.

We're told in the prologue of the film that rapid expansion throughout the galaxy has resulted in centuries of war between various planets and factions, and that the violence is only just now beginning to simmer down. So tensions are still strained between various races already. The fact that one of the cadets is potentially a saboteur only makes matters edgier. The story's protagonist is the young Tada (Akira Kamiya, who did voice work on the Yamato series, a bunch of those Go Nagai giant robot shows, Macross, Urusei Yatsura, and Record of Lodoss War, though he's probably most beloved as the voice of Ryu S