Roots Search: Film Review

Title: Roots Search: Shokushin Buttai X
Writer: Michiru Shimada
Director: Hisashi Sugai
Year: 1986

Since the beginning of this review blog, I have seen a fair amount of anime, and the quantity I saw beforehand is greater still. In all this time, there aren’t many releases, be they series, film, OVA, manga or live action, that I would dismiss as being of no value whatsoever. There is a large amount of throwaway ecchi rubbish, but if a shows aim is to be throwaway ecchi rubbish, actually slamming it for being so seems redundant, as they are easily avoidable. What we have with Roots Search, however, is a 45 minute release which has pretentions of an intelligent philosophical debate, but fails to live up to any of what we could generously describe as its ‘promise’.

Before I explain why I think the film is a resounding brainsore, I will qualify my criticisms by acceding that 45 minutes is perhaps too short a time to have really gone into the ideas Roots Search proposes in a more challenging way, but I feel the film also fails to compromise successfully and instead makes a hash of everything.

I am no expert when it comes to sci-fi horror, but if horror scenes appear clunky and not at all frightening to someone who isn’t a horror enthusiast, then they are hardly fit for purpose. Bearing in mind that this film is over 20 years old, it is possible that these scenes would’ve appeared less obvious to an audience not used to the epic CGstravaganzas that abound today. Still, the premise isn’t, and wasn’t, a new one, and while I’m sure Roots Search was dismissed by some as an Alien rip-off, it seems a bit unfair that one film should have monopoly on the idea of ‘horror in space’. Roots Search is ‘horror in space’, but the reason that no one can hear them scream is not due to the vacuum of space, but due to the awfulness of the production. It is almost as awful as my analogy for how awful it is.

The horror scenes revolve around the psychic alien creature locating the characters’ guilty pasts and forcing them to relive or face up to them through the use of ‘horrifying’ apparitions. Like A Christmas Carol, except in space, with a lot more blood, and significantly less Yorkshire pudding. The uninspired set up for these scenes are further let down by the spectacularly awful visuals. When I say visuals I am not referring only to the poor quality of the animation, which is more or less forgivable bearing in mind the age of the production, and also that it was likely made on a shoestring budget, something which is also suggested by the oddly short running time. I am referring to the poor ideas behind the design of these scenes; the beginning of the alien’s intervention is always announced by a screen-filling shot of the aliens face (sideways mouth aaargh!), which is then replaced with the face of an individual from the character’s past, which is replaced with the alien, which is replaced by the individual, alien, person, alien, person, eeeeeh! All of this underpinned with the synthy whooshing and whooping of an angry child assaulting a Moog. Sorry, that’s probably not how they were made. It is also conceivable that it was a Yamaha. I can’t tell whether this was passé when it first came out, but by today such a scene is to be considered excruciating cheese, and at a planning meeting a suggestion for such a scene would be met with the relocating of the tantrum-throwing Moog-child into the personal space of the gibberling who had suggested such a thing.

The film is further burdened with ugly character design, which is perhaps a harsh claim that can’t really be substantiated because it is based solely on my taste, rather than an opinion formed (hopefully) rationally. Nevertheless, ugly character design. Have it. Scott, a blonde-haired fop, is modelled on a carrot that has been inflated, and heroic Johnny-come-lately Buzz is a bastardised version of an archetypal old-school anime hero. The female lead, Moira, is tousled and clueless, plodding around with her big puppy eyes and overlong sleeves, plugging away in the ‘helpless damsel’ tradition, looking for all the world like a gender-stereotyping analyst’s wet dream.

Heteronormativity is further pandered to in a scene where, being confronted with a significant amount of gore, Moira buries her face in Scott’s overlarge manly/carrot chest, as he nobly holds her and declares “That’s too gory for a young woman to have to see”. Which to me is a strange line, as it is embedded with the assumption that there is a level of gore that a young woman should have to see, though I imagine the level is ‘not very much gore’, or possible, ‘hardly any gore at all’. A second assumption is also there through contrast, which is that the level of gore is perfectly suitable for viewing by young men. Such as carrot chested Scott and lantern-jawed Buzz.

Gore is an important commodity in Roots Search, as it is used as a substitute for horror. Japanese horror, though this is generalising slightly, is known for its understatement and horror-through-mood approach, which contrasts with the mainstream American ‘holy shit isn’t this stabby man scary?!?!’ approach, which makes Roots Search’s approach even stranger. Not scared by the monster-apparition that’s chasing a crew member? No worries, we are about to impale him with a dozen girders. Through his face. The horror.

The pacing of the piece seems rushed, which is again to be expected and is likely evidence of an epic idea squashed into too short a slot, which still doesn’t excuse some of the blunders. Early on in the piece, the alien declares: “I will kill you all within two hours”, which is an oddly time-conscious outburst from a monster, and suggests an intelligence which is absent from the horrors he decides to visit. Further dialogue sillies come roughly a quarter of an hour into the piece, as Moira suddenly changes the topic of conversation apropos of nothing to discuss the reason of human existence. This conversation needs to occur in order to set up the alien’s story, but it is a grinding shift of focus from the rest of the piece up until that point. Harsh contrasts can be an effective dramatic technique, but in this instance it comes across as half-arsed and clunky. Characters also have a tendency to say each others names too often, which is slightly annoying and needless in such a short piece. Whether this is to engender empathy from the viewer or just a consequence of poor writing is unclear, though it fails to make me sympathise with Moira, Scott, Norman, Marcus or Buzz.

There’s no epilepsy warning at the beginning of the piece, but I’d suggest there should be, as the creators of the film certainly subscribe to the idea that there is nothing quite as terrifying as viciously flashing backgrounds. Gone are the days when TV and films were allowed to literally send viewers into fits. Far be it from me to trivialise epilepsy but seizures may be the only way of disguising Roots Search’s many faults.

The film is capped off wonderfully with a dated awful synth-based thoughtless soundtrack, which is coming from someone who is an avid supporter of synth-based offerings. There are better ways of creating mood than simply thrusting both hands onto the keyboard when the monster appears suddenly on screen.

Towards the end of the film, a character is aggressively blinded, and if I were the sort of person who would make light of blindness, I would suggest that it would be preferable to having seen the film. But I won’t do that, obviously.

When the film started I thought that it would be an underground favourite with people who might watch it ironically and find brilliance in its awfulness, like finding a rich seam of gold whilst excavating the cavity of Nick Griffin’s melty eye, but alas, it is just a melty eye. I mean, a bad film. Naughty film! Rub its nose in it!

Vexille: Film Review

Title: Vexille (Bekushiru: 2077 Nihon Sakoku)
Director: Fumihiko Sori
Writer: Fumihiko Sori
Year: 2007

Being an ardent fan of tales where the future is portrayed as a nightmarish place, I was almost instantly enamoured of Vexille. By my reckoning, the more dystopian stories that exist, the less likely they are to come about. It is in times of hardship that incredibly cheerful productions are written and produced, as is shown by comedy being so successful in the recession. Already, I digress.

Vexille is set in the year 2077, in a world where robotics technology has began advancing at such a rate that the UN have banned further research on the subject, which in turn leads Japan to pursue a policy of complete isolation. This isolation includes the construction of an enormous series of signal towers around Japan, which release a scrambling signal and effectively remove Japan from sight. By 2077 Japan have been socially removed from world affairs for 10 years, and yet the Japanese Daiwa Corporation have absolute monopoly over the world’s robotics market, supplying the American technology police agency, SWORD, with all of their equipment. Suspicions about Japanese development of robotics, which, if it were taking place, would be in contravention of international law, are raised as SWORD are tipped off to a clandestine meeting between a number of politicians and a Daiwa representative.

Now, when it is discovered that the Japanese have indeed been developing new technology, the characters seem genuinely surprised, as though an entire country would have hidden itself away from the world in order to develop prettier flowers to give to orphans. Oh no, no, no, no.

The story follows the titular Vexille, a ludicrously buoyant-haired female member of SWORD, who is on a mission to infiltrate Japan in order to send out a scrambler signal to scramble the original scrambler signal so that the signal that scrambles satellites is then scrambled so that the previously scrambled satellites can see Japan clearly.

The film is a CG wonderpiece, that is occasionally effervescent in its glimmering shimmering hoo-hah, or at least it would be if it wasn’t set largely in a gritty hellscape populated by technologically-tortured refugees. What is particularly surprising about this situation is the flawless hair of every single character. I have trouble taming my mop on a good day, and yet it seems as though every Satoshi, Daisuke and Takashi are able to maintain their pristine visual kei headdresses even when eking out a living in an impoverished shanty town. It seems petty to niggle over unrealistically preened hairstyles when a far more significant suspension of disbelief is required to deal with the vast amount of koolwank that the action scenes are teeming with.

As I have just coined the term, I will attempt to define ‘koolwank’. This is where a scene included ludicrously superlative actions whose aim is to make the viewer go: “OMG kool!” and then have a wank. Examples of this from Vexille include a scene where the wing of a plane explodes through a wall of a mansion, forcing Vexille (clad in a futuristic battle-suit reminiscent of Master Chief) to dive to the floor in a blind panic, where a completely un-armoured Daiwa employee coolly ducks his head, reappears after the wing has passed, grabs hold of a handle on the wing as he does so and makes good his escape. Koolwank!

Despite all the koolwank, Vexille does occasionally fall back on the age-old Gundam technique of having skitterish robots that are far too prone to exploding after being grazed by a few bullets. Very unsatisfying.

As well as the pseudo-Master Chiefian suits, Vexille seems to have drawn heavily on other sci-fi sources for design inspiration. A number of unmanned robots roll around looking like the bastard son of Star Wars’ destroyer droids and the clean white turrets of Portal, the drop ships' mechanism is reminiscent of Starship Troopers, and archetypal sand buggy design leaves me unable to point out exactly what it is derivative of. Similarly, giant worm creatures, named Jags, as fresh and unique as they appeared to me, certainly seem to be a novel take on the sand worms of Dune fame rather than a completely original creation. Some sound-bytes feel as though they are cheeky nods to other sources, with one particular scene having a sound so similar to the ‘checkpoint cleared' ambient synth notification of the Gears of War franchise that it cannot possibly be coincidence. On occasion, these similarities make Vexille feel like a ‘Sci-Fi Greatest Hits’ medley, although I would argue that the film has just enough individuality to shine through on its own merits.

The setting and the premise of the film is admirably bleak and hopeless, but they strive all the way through to ruin this by offering hope, which is anathema to my misanthropic tastes. There is almost enough gruelling suffering throughout to satisfy my need for bleakness, but the powerfully corny addendum that closes the film leaves me with the taste of sick in my throat and the whiff of cheddar in my nostrils, but if survivors are what you like in a film then its likely you wont share my mild eye-rolling disgruntlement.

Despite all my sneering, my only real gripe with this film are the occasions where characters decide to mourn the suffering/loss of compatriots in the only way they know, which is to fall to their knees and scream the name of the suffering character-in-question and hold the scream out as long as they possibly can. Rather than the heart-rending tragedy this is meant to convey, instead it merely fills me with embarrassment for the actor stood in a studio repeatedly screaming. There are better ways to convey grief, i.e. quietly.

Apart from this aural terrorising, the acting and the ambient noise is solid, on top of which the soundtrack is utterly fantastic. The backing tracks are an eclectic mix of (according to Wikipedia) “electronic, techno, urumee melam and trance”, with featured artists including Asian Dub Foundation, Basement Jaxx, Boom Boom Satellites, Carl Craig, Dead Can Dance, DJ Shadow M.I.A, Mink and The Prodigy, with the music being ‘handled’ by Paul Oakenfold, whether that refers to editing, mixing or arranging it is uncertain. Though I am not a fan of these genres of music, the tracks are incredibly apt, and usually have a gritty or rocky backbone usually associated with more hardcore varieties of the genres.

All in all Vexille was an enjoyable piece, with certain characters being far more empathetic than is the norm for a feature length production, especially in an action-oriented film. Moreover it is a fascinating hypothetical thought-experiment in the tradition of the best of classic sci-fi works, although if that sounds too high brow or artsy then take solace in the fact that there are plenty of scenes where you will go “OMG kool!” And then you can go and have a wank.

Paprika: Film Review

Title: Paprika

Directed by: Satoshi Kon

Written by: Yasutaka Tsutsui

Year: 2006

It may be difficult for me to give an account of the work of Satoshi Kon without lapsing into hyperbole and hero-worship, but it will be good exercise for my objective muscles so lets have a go.

The basic outline of Paprika may seem deceptively simple; a medical institute have developed a machine, the DC mini, which allows dreams to be seen on a monitor and recorded, and also enables people to interface with the dream, literally placing themselves into the patient’s dreamscape. The inventor of the device, Kohsaku Tokita, imagines the wonders of being able to share in a friend’s dream, and also understands the medical and therapeutic breakthroughs the new technology could enable. Anyone familiar with Kon’s often dark plots will be able to pre-empt that all will not go as planned.

At the very beginning of the film several copies of the DC mini have gone missing, and very soon all psychedelia breaks loose. Madness is infecting the members of the institute where the DC mini was created, as the missing technology is being used to broadcast the dream of a mentally unstable patient into the minds of others, which is visualised using the, now iconic, parade; a noisy and frenetic convoy of insanity thinly disguised as jubilation.

The titular Paprika, then, is the dream-exploring alter ego of Atsuko Chiba, a psychologist working in the aforementioned institute, who attempts to provide therapy more effectively by experiencing the patient’s dreams alongside them. Needless to say, when the chaotic dream begins to leak out, it is Paprika who is best placed to combat the situation.

The film was marketed in the Western world with the tagline: “This is your brain on anime”, a parody of the 1987/88 anti-drugs campaign, likely due to the, for some, confusing nature of the film (I refrain from the phrase head-fuck), and the heavy use of frenetic psychedelic imagery. This is perhaps a strange choice, as the ‘drugs’ of the original campaign are depicted as damaging, thus you would expect the ‘anime’, placed in the same category, to also be damaging, although to be fair they were likely playing on the retro feel of the reference, hoping to gain publicity from that alone. This criticism of the tagline may seem slightly unnecessary, and of little consequence to the actual film, which is a fair point, however if I am to portray a positive and a negative side to the film, that is how far I have to grope for aspects I am dissatisfied with.

The film plays heavily on the line between dreams and the real world, for want of better terminology, constantly blurring the distinction between the two, and falling back on the old pull back and reveal technique. Overuse of the pull back and reveal would usually suggest a lack of innovation, and at times Paprika skates frighteningly close to being a parody of the “and then I woke up” story that you are forbidden to write as a child. However, Paprika manages to utilise this technique sparingly, and to great effect, perhaps aided by the slick visuals, with the change from dream to reality playing out in one scene as a layer of scenery is sucked into a vacuum, revealing the real world behind.

The film is wonderfully crafted with almost infinite examples of a deft artistic touch and, strangely for a writer and director that has such a long history of serious and dark subject matter, exquisite comedic timing. It is perhaps unsurprising that Paprika has some genuinely humorous moments, although actually laughing aloud may simply be evidence of my increasingly twisted humour, as a film which is so heavily invested in psychosis has its fair share of genuinely insane dialogue. In the examples where manic senseless dialogue occurs, the film wavers between the instant humour that can be derived from absolutely nonsense utterances, and the inevitable horror to follow, as these verbal explosions are precursors to complete mental breakdown. The example I have chosen to illustrate this is from the very first instance where it occurs, where a Doctor involved with the DC mini’s use exclaims:

“This whole festival was put together by thirty third-graders with lots of chutzpah and panda!”

before proceeding to jump of out of the nth floor window.

The characters are all fantastically designed, where the somewhat surprising difference of style between certain characters should jar, but in fact it stands up well, and effectively emphasizes the difference between them. It is likely that this occurs due to the film relying heavily on a suspension of disbelief, where if you are willing to accept that a dream can be entered and manipulated through the use of technology, accepting that a certain character is ludicrously overweight is less of an obstacle. But oh! How overweight. It wouldn’t be presumptuous to suggest that Mr Kon was really trying to make a point when designing Tokita, a man not only obscenely obese, but also strangely out of proportion with the rest of the characters, in the same way as toys often are (Spiderman and Mr Sinister were never meant to battle, and were a constant source of annoyance to me as a child).

The foul design of Tokita, whose bloated neck floats out further than his jaw, is counterbalanced by the slick power-dressing of Atsuko, and further by the casual indie-chic of Paprika. It is, however, in the backgrounds where the meticulous detail can be discovered. In particular, the parade scene is so detailed and busy that there a million and one pop culture references that may be being made, where brief bursts of recognition (there’s the Statue of Liberty!) are counterbalanced by the interminable frenzied march. There can be no doubt that these references are being made however, as Paprika briefly appears as Son Goku astride a cloud, from whichever incarnation of Journey to the West you would recognise that character from, and later appearing as Tinkerbell, although it is just as likely she is merely a archetypal fairy-character. More direct references to Kon’s other works are made, for the sort of fanboys who would enjoy that sort of thing (i.e. ME), where a cinema complex at the end features posters of Millenium Actress, Perfect Blue and Tokyo Godfathers. Similarly I had to wonder whether Paprika skipping ephemerally through the cityscape over the opening credits was an homage to the sort of skipping done in the climactic scenes of Perfect Blue, where if it isn’t it hints to a skipping-based obsession held by Satoshi Kon.

Alongside the psychedelic imagery that the film is most-likely known for, there are examples, with one butterfly scene in particular in mind, of deeply disturbing shudder-inducing visceral horror. The film really should feel busier than it does, as a piece including horror, psycho-thriller, psychedelia and occasional comedy shouldn’t be able to fuse comfortably, but Paprika seems to have achieved this fusion.

I was able to follow the story fairly comfortably on this viewing, though I have seen the film before. As this was a second (or perhaps third) viewing, I decided to view the film with the English dub, for as any pretentious anime purist/elitist knows, first viewings are in Japanese with subtitles if this option is available. Now I have no abiding memory of the Japanese voice acting, which would suggest that it was good, and by viewing the cast list, Hayashibara Megumi in the lead role, I can’t imagine that it was anything less than a stellar performance (this is criticism at its cutting edge). The English dub, however, is another matter completely.

It would seem unfair and reductive to criticise the voice acting by declaring that Paprika’s voice was annoying, but it was. Looking back on my notes I have actually written that her voice “makes me angry”. Apologies to Cindy Robinson, who will never work again now that she has suffered the death knoll of Animated Opinions' criticism. On the other hand, she also voiced Atsuko, and the voice she assumed for this role caused no irritation. It is simply possible that the ultra-cutesy style with which Paprika speaks works comfortably in Japanese, where there is a heavily trodden tradition of the cute, but English-language archetypal cutesy voiced characters merely cause irritation, and seem false and vacuous. On a, very tenuously, related note, one American-accented extra pronounces paella “pie-ay-ah”, which is a new one on me, and simply will not do. Unless of course my understood pronunciation of “pie-ell-ah” is incorrect, in which case: sorry America.

My final gripe, then, is the occasional example of blatantly expository dialogue. It would be interesting to see whether this is present in the original Japanese, but having too much information explicitly stated somewhat dulls the film, and patronises the audience, especially when the audience is as clever as I am. One example has Atsuko suggest that an elderly injured Doctor stay in hospital, as the meeting to cancel the project involving the DC mini needs to involve every member to be passed, with the Doctor himself then stating something along the lines of: “If I stay here, the meeting can’t go ahead!” which I greeted with a slow shake of my head and mild chagrin.

It is necessary to have it known that I have perhaps overcompensated with the negatives on this film, as I was afeard that I would drown the production under the flood of my enjoyment. The film is a thought-provoking, gripping and dark story, animated and depicted ingeniously, and backed with the experimental electronica of Hirasawa Susumu. Paprika is a continuation of the collaboration between Kon and Hirasawa that has been so successful in the past, and there are a number of standout tracks in the Paprika soundtrack, in particular ‘The Girl in Byakkoya’ and ‘Parade’, though to be fair the entire film is wonderfully scored.

Boiled down, what can be expected of Paprika is what can be expected from any other Satoshi Kon piece, enjoyment for your ears, popping of your eyes and an initial boggling of your mind, followed by its expansion.

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind: Film Review

Title: Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (Kaze no Tani no Naushika)
Year: 1984 (English Language Re-Dub 2005)
Directed by: Hayao Miyazaki
Written by: Hayao Miyazaki

Original sci-fi epics are thin on the ground these days, with new takes on old stories littering our screens such as Battlestar Galactica, Flash Gordon, I am Legend and Doctor Who. It is fitting, then, to analyse a genuine oldie, rather than a rehash, and therefore I have opted to revisit a Miyazaki masterpiece, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind.

When Nausicaä first made its way to English speaking shores, the respectful American market decided to release it exactly as is: knowing that a film is a work of art, and therefore deserves to be released as close to the authors vision as is possible. No, my mistake. Instead the footage was butchered into a new form and released as Warriors of the Wind. In contrast to the current trend of updating oldies, Nausicaä was released properly in 2005, with an English dub that is simply a direct adaptation of the Japanese release. In some ways, this wait may have proven fortuitous, as the calibre of voice actors they were able to bring in was likely higher than it would have been back in the day. I am, however, getting ahead of myself.

The story follows Nausicaä, the young Princess of the Valley of the Wind, a small kingdom near the edges of the gargantuan, oppressive and poisonous Toxic Jungle. Nausicaä is an unusual princess, inasmuch as she is constantly in danger throughout the film, due to her own adventurousness and explorative exploits. The heroine of the film is not a throne-dwelling non-entity, but a fantastical old-school monarch-figure, leading the metaphorical battle from the metaphorical front line.

The Toxic Jungle is the focal point of the film, as the poisonous spores released from the plant-life within are, to humans, fatal, and so human life is coloured by a constant struggle against these deadly flora. Similarly, the Toxic Jungle is home to ‘ohmu’, which are essentially super-sized insects, and anyone who has seen enlarged pictures of creepy-crawlies will know quite how disgusting that is.

Of the three nations in the Nausicaä mythos, only the people of the Valley of the Wind appreciate the need of co-existence with the Toxic Jungle, with all others attempting to discover ways to obliterate it completely.

In all aspects of Nausicaä, the design is detailed and varied, which makes the world feel huge and complete. The jungle scenes are overgrown and otherworldly, which really adds to the ominous nature of any time spent there, as the characters traipse around in strange masks, so as to survive in the inhospitable air. In stark contrast to the threatening jungle, the Valley of the Wind is a peaceful sylvan idyll, looking almost too much like the wet dream of an overexcited member of the Green Party.
Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind exists in an unusual marriage between swords & sorcery and hard sci-fi. The majority of the characters are decked out in something resembling tunics or ponchos, unless of course they are antagonistic, in which they are likely clad in a variety of plate-mail. Weapons range from daggers and swords to rifles that fire flares, also incorporating tanks, flamethrowers and mid-air dogfights, all-in-all it is a quite diverse mix which should be unsettling, but the unique magic of the world ensures that it is all included naturally.

Contrast is a huge part of the film, with even the look of the technologies used by the various nations creating dichotomies between them. The nation of Tolmekia uses obscenely colossal airships, hulking and grey, and whilst landing they gouge huge scars into beautifully green patchwork fields. The Valley of the Wind, conversely, is as lo-fi as it is possible to be whilst still utilising ‘technology’, the blades of their windmills are an organic brown, and even the blades of their swords are a translucent non-metal, which is little surprise really, the environmentally-friendly credentials of the Valley of the Wind are of paramount importance to the story.

The action in the film is tastefully done, with enough down time between bursts of hyperactivity so as not to render actual story meaningless. As I have discovered is usual of Japanese stories, a potent no-holds-barred vein even runs through yarns aimed at children, and so the pre-dominance of blood and death should be taken as read. The main criticism I have of the film is that Nausicaä is almost too brilliant, as she is loved by all, genuinely courageous, adept with nature, technology and at battle she is near-invincible, despite her small frame and her un-utilitarian mini-skirt. Honourable mention must go to her boots, which are outstanding. Having the young princess decimate a group of armour-clad adults using only a primitive croquet mallet is slightly jarring, no matter how distraught she may be. Adrenaline can certainly lend people unusual strength, battle prowess is another thing altogether. Fans of the overpowered old man character will quickly warm to Lord Yupa (voiced by Patrick Stewart), who is an inhumanly calm master swordsman.

It is good to see such a copious amount of characters bedecked in voluminous quantities of facial hair, I feel these are usually missing in the slick world of anime and manga character design, where smooth baby-faced androgyny is the norm. Lord Yupa is probably the most amazing exponent of the ludicrous facial hair, with a bushy grey goatee that obscures his mouth, also offset by the youthful brown Mohican he hides underneath his hat.

The film does occasionally hit a blip when it comes to the dialogue. As I mentioned briefly earlier, the cast are filled with a plethora of veritable movie talent, including Patrick Stewart, Shia LeBeouf, Uma Thurman and Luke Skywalker. The voice acting is fantastic, which, in my opinion, is still a slight novelty in English dub, which is blighted by its notoriously dreadful history. There are a number of lines in the script, however, which no actor could improve. There is a repetition of dialogue along the lines of “Look at those red eyes, he’s blind with rage”, playing slightly too heavy-handedly on the idea that the stampeding ‘ohmu’ literally cannot see because they are so furious.

Playing further on the idea of tortured puns, I wrinkled my nose slightly at the line: “Join our enterprise”, which I feel may have been crowbarred into the script due to the presence of Captain Jean-Luc in the cast. It is fully possible that I am simply too attuned to the world of awful nods to the audience to comment credibly. Despite my criticisms, there are some delightful turns of phrase dotted throughout the film, such as the oddly phrased, and for me, hugely amusing insult: “You act like a scared little fox-squirrel”. Slightly more direct, and a phrase I will be using myself, is the outburst: “Silence old hag, we’ll have none of your raving”.

The music, as you would expect of anything Ghibli, is utterly wonderful, and is scored by the magnificent Joe Hisaishi. My two favourite tracks from the film are ‘Stampede of the Ohmu’, which is one of the first numbers in the film, and is best described as portentous terror-cheese-synth. It is brilliantly led into by a sequence of silence, bursting into the actual track as an immense ohmu explodes from the dense jungle. The second track is a chirpy track entitled ‘Mehve (Seagull)’, which I have been unable to detect in the actual film, though it is present on the OST (Blog Trivia: and also on my phone, as my text tone).

The main message of the film seems to be one of the need to co-exist with nature, and to have more respect for the environment, lest we reduce the planet to an uninhabitable mud-rock. I’m sure there are a number of people who would disagree with the pro-Green points the film is attempting to make, though the message is surely more valid today than it was at its first inception. I would certainly hate to live in the world as portrayed in Nausicaä, although I’m sure I would enjoy the flying sequences.

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind certainly agrees with my firmly held belief that you cannot go wrong with Ghibli. Hayao Miyazaki’s studio is often described as the Japanese Disney, which he apparently is not pleased with, which I don’t blame him for, after all, aside from a number of fantastic classics, Disney has been responsible for a huge catalogue of awfulness. In comparison, (what I’ve seen of*) Ghibli has never been less than masterful, and Nausicaä is an example that has truly stood the test of time.

*Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind
Spirited Away
Only Tomorrow
Grave of the Fireflies
Howl’s Moving Castle
Whisper of the Heart
Princess Mononoke
Tales from Earthsea

Galerians: Rion : Film Review

Title: Galerians: Rion

Director: Masahiro Maesawa

Year: 2002

Written by: Chinfa Kang

My interest in Galerions: Rion stems from having owned the game Galerians as a child. I use the term ‘owned’ in its original form, to mean that it was in my possession, not to imply that my gaming skills were astounding. In fact I was awful at it, which was incredibly frustrating as I was very attracted to the premise. Imagine my joy, then, to discover a non-gaming adaptation of the game.

The story follows Rion Steiner, a pristinely gelled teen sporting a waycool short-sleeves over long sleeves number, capped off with red shorts and converse boots in an example of 90s Japanese punk-chic. Perhaps not the most usual design for a lead character in what aims to be a psychic-based survival-horror piece. Rion awakes in a futuristic nightmarish research lab, memory-less and confused, and therefore proceeds to bulldozer his way out of the totalitarianesque laboratory through instinctive use of his psychic powers.

This is rather an abrupt beginning to a film, and is the first example of a trend in the case of Galerians: Rion where I make the concession that: “It probably works better in the game”. A main character under your control in a game is essentially you, the gamer. Bearing this in mind it is a powerful and inclusive device to have an amnesiac main character, as then the story is set up so that as the main character learns things fluidly as the game continues, so does the player. A film is a less immersive format, and having a clueless main character can prove troublesome, especially in a story as chaotic as Galerians: Rion.

Drug-use is a large theme of the story, with injecting various fluorescent liquids endowing Rion with various psychic powers, and eventually, as in real life, leading to both physical and mental breakdowns. The ‘baddies’ of this piece are very much in the syringe-happy camp, and go to great lengths to look the part.

We are treated to Dr Rem; a lanky, eye-patch wearing android, Birdman; a madly cackling Lawrence Llywelyn Bowen-alike in dungarees, Rainheart; a fat kid in a heavy bomber vest and a hairnet, and Rita; a very out of place scarlet-haired bombshell. The oddness of these characters adds to the frenetic feel of the story, where the world feels skewed because of Rion’s wanton drug abuse.

The main problem with this film is that it is badly paced. The story is solidly good, but is ill at ease when squeezed into a feature length time frame, it is clearly meant to be spread out over a longer period, as characters will switch violently from being fierce enemies to having an understanding of one another, which I feel may sit better in the slower, more methodical game format. The film feels like a series of disjointed PS1 cut-scenes. Names of locations flash up on screen as they would as you reach new areas in-game. Enemies are introduced and dispatched in a very short time frame, which left me feeling as though there was no point introducing the character at all. Similarly, there is an over-reliance on Rion’s flame abilities, which leaves the character looking like a tedious one-trick pony, especially when he has access to both lightning and telekinetic abilities.

The story also relies heavily on vague disjointed flashback sequences, which are purposefully disorientating due to the dodgy state of Rion’s perception, but without the gameplay aspect with which to anchor these frantic flashbacks, it is possible to be left confused, rather than frightened, as is the aim.

The settings of the various areas are the messy bastard son of old-school Resident Evil and Portal. This is likely aimed at providing a stark contrast, between the grotty, rusty dilapidated haunted mansion areas and the sterile white blankness of the laboratory style arenas. Perhaps this duality aims to convey the fragile state of Rion’s mind, however it merely made the areas feel more disjointed and clearly like different ‘levels’, another probable leftover from a messy game-to-film adaptation. One particular area design also borrowed heavily from the Mt. Nibel Reactor scene in Final Fantasy 7, which may not bother the vast majority of people, but is sure to niggle Final Fantasy fanboys (like me). Another game leftover are the cut-and-paste sprite style of the enemies, who are either beefed up super-soldiers or comical cartoon ne’er-do-wells in heavy overcoats and trilbies.

The writers clearly had trouble making the fighting translate fully, as battles that would have been difficult, drawn-out affairs in the game are effectively castrated. The importance of ‘survival’ in the game ensures that despite the player’s ability to will spontaneous combustion onto enemies, it is necessary to use the ability sparingly, or run out of power. This methodical, tactical element is absent from the film, which ruins the ‘horror’ aspect of fighting, as Rion just wanders around trailing behind him a mobile bonfire of flammable grunts.

There are a few instances of intelligence-insulting lines in the film, such as the aggravating: “the future of the world lies in your hands”, which does indeed set the scene, but in the most pedestrian way possibly.

The film aims to fit into the Silent Hill school of horror, favouring creeping, suggestive scares rather than the cheap, jumpy variety. I’d argue that it is indeed a student of this school, but where Silent Hill is an honours student, Galerians: Rion is a troubled child suffering from ADHD. The story has the cake of freaky horror well within its grasp, and then proceeds to shovel it into its own face, with sequences that could fit wholesale into any shounen-adventure story. The backbone of Silent Hill’s horror is an everyman main character, Galerians skews this all over the bed by having an obscenely powerful main character who, despite looking incredibly young and frail, wanders around frantically with eyes shining with murder. An over-abundance of screamy powering-up sequenced led me to wonder whether Vegeta and Goku were standing off-camera letting loose. The only horrifying thing about Dragonball Z is the English dub (that is a slam-down my 13 year old self would be proud of).

Despite that, however, the film does show a certain flair when indulging its horror parts, with particularly unsettling imagery including a dead body in a fridge with a pocketwatch forced in its mouth. The film also gathers from the plentiful font of horror that is children. There is hardly anything more viscerally worrying than including children in a horror situation, and a wandering child in a plain white hospital-style gown with a full head of bandages is shudder-inducing. The let-down of these creepy scenes however is there is very little reason for the particulars of them, there is seemingly no purposeful symbolism, the presence of a pocket-watch in the mouth of a corpse is inexplicable beyond a vague sense of “Ooh! Isn’t this freaky?”

The true triumph of the film, in terms of evocative imagery; are the eyes, which are animated magnificently. In every scene, the emotions of the characters and captured and conveyed astoundingly, the tortured, manic madness of addiction, the smug and hateful stare of enemies and the unreserved malevolence of the pitiless monster. Never has the blank dead-eyed stare of a corpse been so affecting.

I began to fear that the story would pan out to be disappointingly shallow, but further layers unravelled grippingly as it progressed. Characters that had seemed two dimensional and very basically ‘bad’, began to be portrayed sympathetically, with their own personal troubles highlighted; addressing self-loathing, schizophrenia or just plain madness. Though the story, arguably, dealt with these issues slightly too simplistically, it was at least an interesting and thoughtful message being offered, where drugs were exposed as the actual cause of the suffering, with the characters themselves portrayed as victims. I feel that this is a heavy handed offering, perhaps, but also a worthy message, especially with attitudes toward drug users today still erring toward the criminal, seeing addicts as criminals to be punished rather than sufferers to be helped.

Certain characters’ death scenes were given a full white backdrop as they performed their earnest, heartfelt soliloquies, outlining their troubles and angst, in a format most recently plundered wholesale by Assassin’s Creed, and to a less wholesome effect by Metal Gear 4. Those of you with the eyes of a hawk will have noticed that the vast majority of comparisons I have drawn for this film are games, and that is because the adaptation isn’t quite complete enough. I would certainly recommend the story highly, but I think I probably would have enjoyed it more, and been more frightened, had I gone back to the actual game.

Despite not being blown away by the film, it does offer a hauntingly bleak ending which a certain type of person (me) would find gratifying and, considering asinine ‘Happy Ever After’ positivity is the well trodden path, grotesquely refreshing.