Angel’s Egg

There should be a single word that encompasses the meaning "beautiful and strange," so that I could use it to summarize this movie. Using the two words separately seems insufficient; "Angel’s Egg" is a surreal experience that deserves its own vocabulary. It’s easy to describe the plot, because there isn’t much of one: An odd-looking white-haired girl protects a large egg as she seeks out food and water in an otherworldly, night-shrouded, gothic city. She meets a young man who might be some kind of soldier or warrior, carrying a cross-shaped object that might or might not be a weapon. Singleminded, ghostly fishermen harpoon fish shadows that swim on the walls and streets. It rains a lot. The egg is opened. And that’s about all that happens. This movie is much, much deeper than such a description can convey, however. The artwork is, for lack of that perfect word, beautiful and strange. The landscape is washed in shades of blue and black; the girl’s white hair, pale skin and pink dress stand out against the darkness like a rose on a gravestone. Though there are a few pan-and-zoom still shots, the frame rate and detail that was put into such animations as flowing hair, a billowing cloak or a hand clutching a tunic can amaze. The music, isolated by long periods of silence, barely intrudes on the consciousness, amplifying the mood only when needed, then retreating dutifully. The only thing more minimalist than the music is the dialogue; there are probably fewer than 50 lines in the movie’s 110 minutes. "Angel’s Egg" doesn’t have a message or even much of a story to tell; it’s an experience, a dream cut loose of its tethers, a swim through surreality, a glimpse through the window of a long-abandoned house. It doesn’t ask questions of itself, and it doesn’t answer yours. It just is. Three and a half stars; four if you’re stoned.

Boys Be...

After watching the first couple episodes of this series, I thought the rest of that title should read, "...Obsessed with Girls’ Bodies." But having watched the whole thing, I find that at least when it comes to the three main characters in this series, Boys Be... deeper, more sensitive and more complex than you give them credit for. I’ve seen this series described as "Azumanga Daioh" for guys, and the metaphor is apt. Like that series, "Boys Be..." is a realistic, heartwarming depiction of the everyday trials and tribulations of a small group of high-school friends – only with fanservice. The series centers on three particular boys: Kyoichi, the awkward, shy artist drawn to the girl he’s known since childhood; Yoshihiko, the romantic baseball star who doesn’t really know what he wants out of life; and Makoto, the overconfident player who keeps track of girls’ vital statistics on his palmtop. The show explores their on-again, off-again romances, false starts and fumbling advances on the way to happiness. Divided into the four seasons of a single school year, the show shifts tone with each season. The weather, the background music, even the tone of the episodes shift with the seasons to reflect the growing and maturing of the boys’ relationships. Spring is full of hope and promise, summer is energetic and fun, autumn brings a chill and winter is magical. Each of the boys goes through the ups and downs of several romances in the space of thirteen episodes, finally settling on one that seems so natural it should have been obvious from the start. And though the one relationship that is woven through the entire series isn’t entirely resolved by the end, you get the impression that, like the new spring, this romance will blossom again. Despite the copious amounts of fanservice – including lascivious video clips of real-life girls in the eyecatches – this series is really sweet and romantic at heart. Though I have to downgrade it for its simple animation and sometimes predictable plots, "Boys Be..." quite enjoyable. Three stars.

Crest of the Stars

It’s hard to tell truly epic stories. Either your characters have to be of epic scale themselves, or you have to be satisfied with lower-level characters whose main role is to act as the viewer’s proxy, thrust into a greater role by circumstances. With the first route, the pitfall is that such powerful characters become (pardon the term) cartoonish, making it hard for the viewer to identify with them (Captain Harlock comes to mind). With the second, the characters have to be deep, intriguing and well-done enough to make you care about their fate – a tough trick to pull off when we’re talking about cartoons. And it doesn’t hurt if those circumstances that thrust them into danger also offer them the opportunity to play a larger role, like Luke Skywalker in "Star Wars" or Paul Atredies in "Dune." This is the route taken by "Crest of the Stars." The story starts small, on the edge of something much bigger. The Abh, blue-haired, elfin beings, consider themselves "kin of the stars," and don’t care to even set foot on a planet if they don’t have to. And though they rule half the galaxy, the Abh are not your typical space conquerors – they desire to control the means of space travel, but are content to let their subjects rule their own worlds. Jinto Lin, pampered son of one of these planetary quislings, is sent off to military academy in the company of his prickly Abh escort, Lafiel. But this simple trip becomes complicated when the enemies of the Abh launch a surprise attack on their ship, and Lafiel – an inexperienced cadet who is revealed to be a princess of the Abh ruling family – is assigned to get Jinto to safety. That’s only the beginning of this 13-episode OAV, but I don’t want to spoil more of the plot. The anime sweeps along at a breakneck pace, including events of high import, but never losing focus on Jinto, Lafiel, and their growing trust and reliance on one another – a two-person parable for the relations of their races. When it’s over, you’re left wanting more; this could easily have been a 26-episode series. Luckily, there is more – two more series, in fact, "Banner of the Stars" and "Banner of the Stars II." I’ll be seeking both of them out soon. The series shows its early-80s vintage in a somewhat dated animation and character-design style, but I still have no problem giving this series four stars.

El-Hazard: The Magnificent World

Rarely does a show grab you completely right from Episode 1. For me, "Bleach" did. So did "Burst Angel" and "Erementar Gerad." To that short list, I can add "El-Hazard: The Magnificent World." In the space of 45 short minutes (most episodes are half an hour), "El-Hazard" manages to set up the premise of the series, transport us to a foreign and ornately detailed world, introduce more than a half-dozen well-defined and distinctive characters, and drop them right into the action. This is something that some other series (*cough*Harlock*cough*) can’t manage to accomplish in several episodes. And from that beginning, "El-Hazard" doesn’t rest. The series sweeps along at a relentless pace through a fantastic story. Science whiz and all-around high-school standout Matoko doesn’t realize that Student Council President and perennial also-ran Jinnai considers Matoko to be his bitter rival. When Matoko discovers an ancient artifact beneath the school and Jinnai’s pushy sister Nanami thwarts Jinnai’s efforts to take the credit, Jinnai calls Matoko out for a showdown after school. Revenge goes awry, though, when a beautiful woman who claims to know Matoko emerges from the artifact and sends Matoko, Jinnai, Nanami and alcoholic teacher Mr. Fujisawa to the magnificent world of El-Hazard. The four are separated, gain extraordinary powers due to the dimensional transfer, and are immediately swept up in the ongoing war between the people of El-Hazard and the hulking, insectoid Bugrom. Jinnai sides with Deva, queen of the Bugrom, and Matoko and Mr. Fujisawa rescue princess Rune Venus from a Bugrom attack. Matoko is recruited to calm the leaders of the allied human nations by standing in for Rune Venus’ missing sister – in drag. They then set off for the distant temple of the three high priestesses in order to convince them to unlock a doomsday weapon that could turn the tide against the Bugrom. And this is all in the first episode. The OAV’s seven-episode length guarantees the viewers are swept along at a breakneck pace with nary a filler episode in sight. As Jinnai indulges his suddenly unfettered lust for revenge by whipping the disorganized Bugrom into a ruthless army, and Matoko and crew scramble to stop his destruction, the viewer is truly transported to a magnificent world. Four stars. (Note that this review pertains to the original seven-episode OAV. The four-episode OAV sequel and the TV-series retelling, "El-Hazard: The Wanderers," will be reviewed later.)

Haibane Renmei

"Haibane Renmei" was written by Yoshitoshe ABe (yes, he really capitalizes it that way) and directed by Tomokazu Tokoro, the team that created "Serial Experiments Lain." Like that series, "Haibane Renmei" is a beautiful, compelling and involving look into an intriguing and slightly off-kilter world. But in the place of Lain and her digitized journey of inward discovery, we have Rakka, a teenage tabula raza exploring her mysterious surroundings. And instead of the virtual world of "The Wired," we have Glie, a medieval-European-looking town surrounded by an insurmountable wall. The only ones who go beyond this wall are the Toga, a group of traders who are forbidden to interact directly with the townspeople, and the birds, which play a bigger symbolic part in the story than it seems at first. The story is told from the viewpoint of Rakka, the newest "Haibane," a group of people with halos floating above their heads and ash-grey wings on their backs. (That's Rakka in the picture at top.) Born full-grown from a huge egglike cocoon, with no memories of her previous life save for vague images of a dream of falling, Rakka is welcomed by the other Haibane who live in Old Home. The first thing they do is to use a headband to affix her new halo (which won’t stick as it should, for comical reasons revealed later) and try to keep her comfortable when her wings start to grow and burst forth from her back. From there, Rakka is the viewer’s eyes and ears as she learns about the oddities of being a Haibane in a town of outwardly normal people. For example, Haibane cannot use money, own anything that has not been used and discarded by people, or even touch (much less pass) the walls surrounding town. And with every new discovery comes new questions. What are the Haibane? What is the reason behind the restrictions on them? What are the motives of the Haibane Renmei, the secretive society supposedly devoted to protecting them? What is outside the city walls, and why is nobody – not even the normal townsfolk – allowed to pass beyond them? As in "Lain," not all the questions that are raised are answered explicitly, but the resolution here is more satisfying than in that series. Some reviewers have complained about the slight blurriness of the artwork, but when combined with the muted color palette and atmospheric music, this merely serves to add to the dreamlike quality of the setting. Four stars.

NieA_7

This series was also created by Yoshitoshi ABe, creator of "Lain" and "Haibane Renmei." However, where those series soared, "NieA_7" flops. The main problem, unfortunately, is unavoidable – it’s the title character. "NieA_7" (pronounced Niea Under Seven) is set in a near-future Japan, after a mother ship full of humanlike aliens crash-lands on Earth. Rather than coming for conquest or alliance, these interstellar refugees have pretty completely integrated themselves into society. For example, NieA herself, who as an antenna-less "Under Seven" alien ranks bottom in the aliens’ antenna-size-based caste structure, has integrated herself into the closet of perpetually penniless cram-school student Mayuko (who looks a lot like a slightly older Lain). In contrast to Mayuko, who in between studying at cram school works three part-time jobs, including cleaning the financially shaky bathhouse where they live, NieA is a completely unrepentant leech. Not only does she steal Mayuko’s food and live under her roof without any kind of compensation, she hoards junk and builds dubious UFOs that tend to explode inconveniently in Mayuko’s room. Such a character could be likeable if she were cheerful and good intentioned, like "Love Hina"’s Kaolla Su, whom NieA superficially resembles. However, the alien’s personality has no such redeeming features. She whines, steals, shirks work, makes promises she has no intention of keeping, insults Mayuko and shrieks "discrimination" when confronted about her behavior. It only takes a few episodes before this starts to really grate, and you wonder why Mayuko – much less her landlady – lets the little parasite stay. By the time NieA starts hearing voices, acting funny and disappearing without explanation, the viewer honestly doesn’t care if she ever comes back. And when she does return (a "surprise" I have no guilt about spoiling for you), not only is there no explanation forthcoming for her absence, there is also no change in NieA – she’s back to being the same greedy, lazy pest as before. The dynamic between her and Mayuko is likewise unchanged. You just want to take a tire iron to the back of NieA’s head, and you even start to dislike Mayuko for being such a doormat. Though ABe has done much better work, and the setting and premise of "NieA_7" could be used to present a similarly deep and intriguing story, the end result here is disappointment. By the end of the series, you are left with the feeling that you’ve just watched six and a half hours of nothing happening. On a scale of 1 to 10, NieA rates a minus-7. I have to give the show a little credit, though, for its attractive artwork and backgrounds, and interesting, sympathetic secondary characters. Therefore, "NieA_7" gets a grudging two stars.

Puni Puni Poemi!

"Excel Saga" gleefully and energetically skewered every aspect of anime and Japanese culture except hentai. With this unrepentantly ecchi OAV sequel, "Excel"’s creators – ahem – plug that hole. Poemi Watanabe, who relentlessly refers to herself as Kobayashi (the name of Poemi’s voice actress – as Poemi’s father explains, "she’s bad at staying in character"), takes Excel’s energy level, pulls its pants off and funnels caffeine down its throat. Paper-thin though it may be, here’s the plot: Poemi’s dad Nabeshin (the afro-sporting director of both "Excel" and this series) and mother are killed by a ball-swinging, pantsless alien, which Kobayashi – excuse me – Poemi takes as an opportunity to practice emoting for her voice-actress job. Yes, that’s right, not only does Poemi refer to herself by the name of her voice actress, Poemi herself wants to be a voice actress, and flashbacks show her difficulty working with Nabeshin on "Excel Saga" – this show’s prequel. Think about that – this show takes place in the same setting as a show that is clearly shown, in this setting, to be FICTIONAL. You can’t get more self-referential than that without a Tardis. Anyhoo, Poemi takes up residence with the Aasu sisters (Aasu – ass – get it?), self-appointed and under-powered protectors of the planet. Oh, and did I mention it’s a hentai parody? The sisters embody every cliché of that genre – the mammoth-breasted glasses-girl, the fuku-wearing lesbian schoolgirl, the underage loli, the flat-chested sporty type, the cutoffs-wearing "American" blonde, the whip-wielding dominatrix and the mature office lady. When the Aasu sisters fail to defend Earth against an alien mecha, Poemi discovers that the bloody dissection of a talking fish lets her transform into magical girl Puni Puni Poemy, who combines her usual wasteful energy with the destructive power of an A-bomb. And in case you forgot it was hentai, in episode two, Poemi has to rush to rescue the kidnapped Aasu sisters from being lasciviously tortured and ravished by the cutest little tentacle monster ever. (And in case you’re squeamish, don’t worry, there is no frontal nudity or actual hardcore content – one of the show’s best running gags parodies the cliched methods anime producers use to conceal such scenes.) Then there’s some kind of weird mystical deus ex machina at the end, something to do with Poemi being the embodiment of the Earth, but who really cares? The fun is in the ride. And what a ride it is. Like a rollercoaster, it may not last very long, but by the end you’re out of breath from laughing. I give it four stars, but strip off three of those if you can’t imagine yourself laughing at a theme song that includes the line "My bunghole itches ‘cause I’m a girl."

Voices of a Distant Star (movie)

You think your five-minute "Star Wars" fan film is hot stuff? Watch "Voices of a Distant Star." Then shut the hell up. Shinkai Makoto, a then-unemployed computer animator, made this 25-minute film by himself, using only his Macintosh computer and the voice talents of a couple friends. That’s it. And though it’s a labor of love, nothing about this masterpiece makes you think "low-budget." The characters are winning, the voice acting is superb, the concept is intriguing, the script and direction are tight, and the CG animation is stunning. There aren’t enough positive adjectives to describe this little-known gem. The plot is simple. In the far future, schoolgirl Mikako is drafted to pilot a combat robot against an alien force. Shipped off to a theater of war light-years from Earth, she keeps in touch with her boyfriend Noboru by sending text messages on her interstellar cell phone. (I’d hate to pay her roaming charges.) But because of relativistic time-distortion, in a span of weeks for her, years are flying by for Noboru back home. There are some pretty (and pretty impressive) scenes of mecha/alien combat, but the show is all about Mikako and Noboru. It’s a simple tale of love’s enduring power, and one made all the more impressive by the feat of its creation. Watch this movie. Four stars and more.