dark, dingy…and oddly charming – that’s Dorohedoro!

There’s an interview with Q Hayashida, Dorohedoro’s mangaka, that I found surfing manga brog. In it, Hayashida states that she disliked the marble busts she had to draw in school because they were ‘too smooth’, and the interviewer responds that she’s into things that are ‘interestingly textured’. And textured is really the best way to describe Dorohedoro. I prefer smooth myself, so I was always a little daunted by the scratchiness of Hayashida’s style and the incomprehensible world she built with it. That’s where adaptations come in. MAPPA have taken Dorohedoro and have somehow made it comprehensible.

That’s not to say that MAPPA have sanitised Dorohedoro. The strength of the art direction lies in how coherently it conveys the manga’s chaos. Art director Shiji Kimura has credits that include Tekkonkinkreet, Blood Blockade Battlefront and Shashinkan – all of which have complex, intricate art direction where the physical setting takes centre stage. He and his team repeat the magic here with dense background art that pulls you into the world, without becoming overwhelming. Dorohedoro toes the line of excess, but never crosses it.

The show’s restraint is good because it keeps the audience onboard with what could potentially become a very messy story. And Dorohedoro is weird. It’s head-to-toe, back-to-front, flat-out weird. And I knew it would be a strange experience, but that didn’t prepare me for just how strange the show could get. Four episodes in and I thought I was starting to ‘get it’, but that was before the giant, remote-controlled, talking cockroach. Weird. Yet it works. Dorohedoro isn’t strange for the sake of it – it just is. There’s not an ounce of self-awareness, and that’s part of the charm. The confidence in its own weirdness is one of the show’s strongest selling points.

But the strangest discovery watching Dorohedoro was definitely the characters. They are fascinating. They’re all violent people, with seemingly no morals, but they’re just so fun to watch – either because of their personalities or their relationships. It’s strange to watch a hyperviolent show centre its story around the heartfelt friendship of its lead characters. Caiman and Nikaido have one of the most earnest, innocent friendship I’ve ever seen between two murdering vagrants. And that was a shock. I’m not comfortable with the show’s apparent message of ‘everyone can burn in hell as long as me and mine are safe and sound’, but 1) I don’t think that’s the show’s message and 2) I don’t think the show even has a message. Dorohedoro is too random to philosophise about. Wherever the story goes from here, I’m just going to take it as it comes.

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Texture isn’t just a visual style, but a principle that Dorohedoro embodies, from its grimy world-building to its strange cocktail of morally-dubious-yet-oddly-endearing characters. I have no clue if MAPPA plan on adapting the rest of the manga, but if it was meant as a glorified 12-episode ad, then it’s been very effective. I’m not entirely sold, but I’m definitely intrigued.

Ashita no Ousama (1996)

 

Volumes: 10

Chapters: 53

Status: Finished

Published: 1996 to 2001

Genres: Josei

Authors: Yachi, Emiko (Story & Art)

Synopsis

A country girl in the big city, Yu doesn’t quite understand just how hard it is to make it big. So when she’s enraptured by a play, she immediately declares it her life’s mission to become a great actress. Unfortunately, she has no knowledge of the craft, no experience, and no skills aside from making good curry—not that that kind of thing would ever stop her.

Ashita no Ousama is the sort of manga that kind of…surprises you. You look at it and you don’t really expect much, but once you get into the swing of it, you start to realize how carefully and quietly this show subverts expectations to create a unique, if naive story about ambition and success in theatre.

Of course, my fondness for the manga was probably already sealed from the get go. I love it when one art form discusses another art form, even though theatre, being so complex in its action and staging, didn’t seem perfect for illustrative manga. Emiko Yachi takes a different approach- focusing intently on the behind-the-scenes of theatre, rather than actual performances. There’s a lot of research that’s been done into the technique of expression, and more importantly, the psychology of theatre. It’s so fascinating, seeing how actors and directors coexist and how each must go about embodying the persona they need for each play. I was so surprised to learn Yachi didn’t know anything about theatre before the manga, because she flexes and applies her research so well. The manga’s themes of ambition, rivalry, constant ‘levelling up’ reminded of a lot of sports anime/manga, and the rush of adrenaline I got whenever Yuu managed to execute a play was the same as watching Hinata perform a perfect spike in Haikyuu!. And a lot of the plays actually sound so interesting. Like, I would love to watch these in real life! The manga itself prefers to infer the performances via single splash pages, and the artstyle supports this. The lankiness of the character designs and the way the characters dance across the stage during performances reminded me of Art Nouveau posters for the Moulin Rouge, especially in the way they interact with other in these loose floating poses, seemingly free of all laws of gravity and perspective. As the manga progresses, Yachi becomes increasingly confident and her understanding of theatre starts to show as performances become longer and more elaborate. Yachi’s art is undeniably shoujo, but it’s shoujo grounded in strong drawing technique. Sometimes she relies too heavily on repetitive emoticons to represent emotion in her characters offstage, but it never got to the point of being distracting, and as an emotionally light story, it all came together well in the end.

 

Another aspect of the manga that appealed to my personal tastes was the premise. The idea of someone discovering something they love purely through coincidence, and then throwing themselves wholeheartedly into pursuing that love without fear is something that I admire- it appeals my silly sense of romance. It’s not too ridiculous about it – Sasaya Yuu’s initial attempts at theatre aren’t successful at all- but her determination to succeed in theatre against all odds was so admirable, even when she was clearly barking up the wrong tree. She’s this wonderful mixture of super-proactive/determined and all sweetness, meaning she could power the plot whilst keeping all the charm and good-heartedness of your typical shoujo protagonist. It was entertaining and refreshing to see a female lead who knew what she wanted and actually made strides to obtain it. It was also refreshing to have my expectations subverted in other characters like Touya, who was not the aloof ‘prize’ I thought he would be, but a genuinely nice person with his own struggles and insecurities despite his talent and skill. As Sasaya climbed up the ranks and gained power, Yachi took steps to bring Touya down from his seemingly unreachable pedestal to make his character more human. There’s romance too, but Yachi wisely assumes that we already know who is going to get together, and the strong cast chemistry meant that whenever the romance did briefly come into the foreground, it made perfect sense. The manga refuses to sink to pointless cliches and moves at lightening speed, as it strives to keep a drama-fee plot occupied by a cast of mature adults who handle conflict responsibly and don’t draw anything out unnecessarily.

However, conflict is necessary for a good story and Ashita no Ousama’s fast pace means that conflicts are not as well-developed as they should be, or get built up only to have a somewhat unconvincing resolution. It is justified mostly, because of the proactive nature of our protagonist and the manga’s insistence on everyone being rational adults, but sometimes I felt it could had more of an impact had it indulged more heavily in its drama side. Another side-effect of the pace is that the manga, as time goes, fails to make much of an impression. It’s very much an ‘in the moment’ piece of work, where it impresses there and then, but when you’re done and dusted, you realize you actually can’t remember much of what actually happened in the first place. I think the ending contributed a lot to that. It concludes things nicely, but it’s also incredibly rushed and lacks tension, because we knew what was going to be happen. It didn’t sour my experience, but I feel like it could have been better, especially considering how strong the rest of the manga was.

Nevertheless, Ashita no Ousama really is a beautiful, solid portrayal of theatre and a wonderful insight into the art form. It’s mature, funny and anchored by a lovable protagonist in Sasaya Yuu. If you’re looking for a relaxed, but solidly executed and intelligent story, this is the one for you.

 

Review: Jin Roh, the Wolf Brigade

“Why?”

A soldier asks a young girl holding a bag of bombs.

“Why?” This question is symbolic – the first line uttered by our silent protagonist, and a sign of his humanity hidden under layers of terrifying armoury.

Then the girl blows herself up.

So begins Jin-Roh, the Wolf Brigade, an hour 40 minutes of calculated storytelling, building up to the best resolution in any movie ever. It’s emotional, gorgeously animated and brutally dedicated, the perfect conclusion and affirmation of the movie’s themes.

I was not impressed with Jin Roh the first time I watched it. Certain parts of it, parts to do with the protagonist, were compelling, but much of the show was bogged down by dull cryptic conversations between characters I didn’t care about. But I couldn’t stop thinking the ending. That ending… There was something on the tip of its tongue, some missing piece of the puzzle. I felt I was being unfair, and so gave the film a second viewing. And all revealed itself. The fog cleared and I could see the film for what it was. Jin Roh’s understated tendencies definitely work against it initially, but upon re-watch you come away with a deeper appreciation of its themes.

The soldier Fuse, is haunted by memories of the girl. He sees her during training exercises, in his dreams, and in her sister, her doppelganger. The two meet at her grave and strike up a melancholic relationship. Their steps are shadowed by a more twisted version of Little Red Riding Hood, where you’re never quite sure who is the wolf and who is the girl. This game of cat and mouse is reflected, on a cruder level, in the political conflict that forms the background for this romance. On my first viewing, this was the weakest part, but it’s so tightly wound with the best element of the film – Fuse’s characterisation- that I felt to dismiss it as bad would do a serious discredit. Undeniably, I was not enthralled, but it did form the perfect foundation for Fuse’s character arc to flourish. Fuse is a deeply understated character- he speaks very little and emotes very little. He’s a man constantly fighting his own humanity. He expresses, or the film expresses his feelings through careful visual framing and little gestures: the way he carries himself with a sort of downtrodden-ness, his perpetual stare, the pointed-ness of his few sentences, and most importantly, his silence. His silence speaks.

Much of this anime is subtle character and machinery animation. I had high hopes for it considering its director was Hiroyuki Okiura, a master at realist animation. When the animation kicks in, much of it is beautiful and organic, reflecting the attention to detail that would come from having the likes of Tetsuya Nishio and Toshiyuki Inoue (great animators of movement) supervise the film’s animation- all whilst appealing to Okiura’s own realist sensibilities. Okiura himself animates some of the film’s best cuts and his understanding of human expression is evident in those. The characters move carefully- no look, no gesture is wasted as the animation visually conveys their observant, paranoid nature. The general design/aesthetic is very fitting. The character designs are the closest to realism I’ve ever seen (without succumbing to the uncanny valley); this realism allowed for diversity between characters. I loved the design of the Special Unit. They’re these heavily armoured men wearing face guards with glowing red eyes. These designs always stood out on screen and they were framed in menacing, eerie ways.

The music is gorgeous. This is one of the few soundtracks I would actually buy, because of just how much I love. It really elevated every scene it was in. It worked nicely against the film’s silence, filling out the scenes of wanderlust, then dimming down in dialogue scenes. There was a constant push and pull between the silence and the music, and I loved it. The English dub was a pleasant surprise. It carried itself with a sort of dignity and elegance; the voice actors really embraced the melancholy of the film and reflected it in their performances. It is uneven, but I never had any difficulty believing in the characters they were playing. Moneca Stori’s performance as Kei, the dead girl’s sister, was especially good. It was the performance I was most dreading, but Stori played her as dreamy, whimsical and a little naive, whilst keeping her character grounded to the film’s reality. She had the most emotionally heavy scenes to play, and again, they were generally uneven. In the final scene however, she delivered spectacularly. Definitely one of my favourite dub performances.

So clearly Jin-Roh is quality, and a must-watch. I’m actually surprised by how little discourse there is surrounding this film. Its themes and symbolism are fascinating to watch, and there is a lot of beauty here. That said though, don’t force yourself to like it because it’s a rumoured ‘underrated masterpiece. Take it as it comes.

 

Series Review: Now and Then, Here and There

Now and Then, Here and There is a really good show. As someone who wants to get good at writing, I’m always looking for new shows to show me how it’s done. Now and Then is a series that definitely showed me how it’s done. The show managed to tell a complete story in 13 episodes with impressive consistency. It’s a show that I’ll have to revisit on another day, because I have so many thoughts on it. This review won’t do it justice, so I’ll likely come back to it another day. For now, this is all I have.

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The story follows a young boy named Shu, who is transported 10 billion years into the future. This earth is on its last legs, eclipsed by a giant dying sun and ravaged by years of war and drought; ruled by a mad dictator who lives in a battle fortress run and defended by child soldiers. It’s in this setting Shu must survive, and for 13 episodes, his resolve will be pushed to breaking point.

Efficiency is the name of the game with this show- NTHT understands its limits and decides to work around them. You can’t create a complex story with a large cast of characters and successfully pull it off in 13 episodes. So, NTHT opts for simplicity instead. The plot, broken down, is actually quite typical. What makes it atypical is the execution. Slowly is the key word here: the writing never rushes itself. It gives all the different elements of the story time to breathe, so when the finale starts to roll around, it all comes together smoothly. Each plot thread leads into the next seamlessly, in a way that feels naturalistic as opposed to calculated.

I’m no expert, but sometimes, some shows feel written. I’m always aware that events transpire to keep the show padded for another so-so episode, instead of flowing naturally from the actions of the characters. NTHT links plot progression to its characters’ actions, so the writing was far more opaque. The result was incredibly immersive.

This efficiency also applies to the character writing. Most of the cast fit neatly into one character archetype or the other, but they were still compelling due to their fleshed out internal conflicts. And these conflicts always tied perfectly to that omnipresence of war that pervaded the setting. As a result they all felt like organic parts of their hellish world, save for our lead, Shu. Shu, our Shonen-esque protagonist, was both a blessing and a curse. His relentless, go-getter attitude often crossed the line into blatant insensitivity. But in this hell, I found myself really appreciating his brazen nature, how he strived to get things done despite not having the power to do so. He was some kind of oasis in a desert; in a land where everyone had accepted their miserable fate, his constant effort to change things around him were admirable, though not effective. The show seems to both laud and mock him for his efforts and I thoroughly agreed. Mind you, I wish his character developed during the show, but this was clear pragmatism as he was not the show’s focal point.

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There isn’t a lot of animation going on here, but the show compels through excellent story-boarding instead. Some shots, like the one below, are so beautifully composed and poignant; they adeptly conveyed the claustrophobia of the setting. The editing was often razor-sharp to capture the action of the scene. There was a rhythm behind the cuts that felt urgent, at least at the beginning. Towards the end of the show, as events grew broader, the editing lost much of that edge. It’s a pity, because it was really beautiful to watch.

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I particularly like how violence was portrayed. It’s less ham-fisted and more nuanced- there was weight in each act of violence. Suffering is difficult to write. Whenever I try to write it, I take it too far and the story becomes exploitative and melodramatic, the worst kind of story. I think it takes a really thoughtful mind to write about suffering in a way that feels genuine- genuine to real experiences. This is where Now and Then, Here and There shines. It treats the brutality of war with respect and deep consideration for those who have suffered it. For me, personally, this was the show’s greatest strength.

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Overall, this show was pretty good. Like I said before, I’ll likely revisit it to really do it justice. There are so many good things to talk about, and I really want to analyse certain aspects of the show in the future. I definitely recommend it for anyone looking for good post-apocalyptic stories. I’m still figuring out this whole writing thing and the review was so hard to write. I’m welcome to any helpful criticism on blogging as I really want to improve. I hope this review sold the show well enough. It’s fantastic and deserves my very best in return.