Film Review: The Empire Strikes Back

Star Wars: Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back

• Publisher: 20th Century Fox
• Production Studio: Lucasfilm
• Release: 21 May 1980
• Genre: Action, Science-fiction
• Director: Irvin Kershner
• Producer: Gary Kurtz
• Writers: Leigh Brackett, Lawrence Kasdan (Screenplay), George Lucas (Story)

Previously on the SDP, I reviewed Star Wars: Episode IV: A New Hope, in anticipation of the new movie coming out.  And now, the saga continues.

Previously on Star Wars, the Rebel Alliance succeeded in destroying the Death Star, a super weapon of the Galactic Empire, but have been chased to the ice planet of Hoth.  Our hero, Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill), starts off the movie by patrolling the snowy wastelands, when one of the Empire's probe-droids crash-lands on the planet.  As he goes to investigate, he is knocked out by a furry ice-monster, but eventually overpowers it through his limited training in the Force.  On the way back, he has a vision of his old recently-deceased teacher, Obi-Wan Kenobi (Alec Guinness), instructing him to continue his training as a Jedi Knight on the planet Dagobah.

An early highlight of The Empire Strikes Back is the battle of Hoth, where Rebel forces try to hold off the Empire's assault.  Building on the technical tricks developed for the first film, little Snowspeeder ships fly around AT-ATs, the giant Imperial walker mechs, which were animated by combining stop-motion animation with motion blur effects, to create a smoother motion than would otherwise be possible.  The David-and-Goliath aspect of this battle is brought about by the clever way in which the Rebel pilots bring down some of the AT-ATs, by shooting harpoon-cables into their legs and flying circles around them to trip them up.  But alas, this does not help the Rebels win the battle, just to buy enough time to help as many of their number evacuate the planet as possible.

The Battle of Hoth displays an evolution in special effects.

Once the Empire finally catches up with them, our heroes split up into two groups.  Han Solo (Harrison Ford), Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher), Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew), and C-3PO (Anthony Daniels) fly off in the Millenium Falcon.  There is a sub-plot running throughout the movie where the Falcon's hyperdrive engine is on the fritz, preventing our heroes from fleeing danger via lightspeed jump, and forcing them to rely on their own ingenuity.  I especially liked the moment where they hide right behind one of the Empire's Star Destroyers, and take off as it ejects all its space junk.  Eventually, they make it to a cloud city on the planet Bespin, and seek refuge with Lando Calrissian (Billy Dee Williams), an old smuggling mate of Han's.  Though initially friendly, Lando reveals that he had to cut deals with Darth Vader and the Empire to make ends meet, and thusly, is forced to get Han frozen in carbonite and delivered to the bounty hunters after his head.

Meanwhile, Luke Skywalker heads off to Dagobah, a swamp planet, where he resumes his training under the tutelage of the diminutive yet wise (and wise-acre) Yoda (voice of Frank Oz).  Through Yoda's exposition, Luke (and the audience) learns more about the nature of the Force, specifically on the schism between the light and dark sides of the Force.  This drives home a running theme throughout the film, one of duality, of the darkness encroaching upon the spirits of good people. Luke's decision to abandon his Jedi training and save Han, Leia, and his other friends from a trap causes tension between him and Yoda... somehow.  I mean, Luke does promise to return to Yoda and pick up where they left off.  Maybe it's because he fails to exercise the patience needed of a true Jedi.  Maybe it's because they know that the trap Han and Leia have fallen into is also a trap for Luke himself.  But, for whatever reason, the lingering possibility of Luke falling for the dark side creates an undercurrent of tension.

This tension comes to a head when, towards the end of the film, Luke has his first face-to-face showdown with Darth Vader (David Prowse, voice of James Earl Jones).  The power that Vader possesses also keeps us on edge, as he pelts Luke with telekinetically-tossed machine parts, and almost traps him in the same freezing chamber that claimed Han Solo.  At the same time, the fight alternates between this action and quiet moments where the two are briefly separated, and no one seems to know when one or the other will show up.  This battle ends when Vader drops one of the most famous plot twists in cinema.  I don't know if I should bother with spoiler tags, because everyone seems to be familiar with it.  But then again, surely not everybody in the world has seen this movie yet, and this is the sort of moment you can only experience once.  So if somehow you have never before seen The Empire Strikes Back, or any other Star Wars movie besides the first, stop reading this review now and go watch it.  Everyone else, say it with me: Darth Vader turns out to be Luke Skywalker's father.  He tempts Luke with the power of the dark side of the Force, even offering the chance to overthrow the Emperor together, but Luke would rather (and indeed, does) almost die instead of accept that fact. He does manage to get picked up by his friends in the Millenium Falcon, and together they finally fix the ship's hyperdrive engine and take off.  You are now free to turn off your TV.

Empire expertly builds up tension ahead of the Luke/Vader fight.

Characterisation was one of the strong points of the first Star Wars, but The Empire Strikes Back takes it to the next level.  There's Luke's internal struggle, as I discussed.  Lando, having been forced to betray his friends, eventually turns the tables back on the Empire when given a chance.  Even Darth Vader seems to get a character arc of his own.  As his underling officers keep making mistakes here and there, he shows a bad habit of Force-choking them to death.  But at the very end, as the Millennium Falcon escapes through hyperspace, Vader simply walks off the scene in silence, with nary a constricted throat to be had.  It shows a hint of humanity which may or may not pay off in the next movie...!

The Empire Strikes Back may no longer have the benefit of a self-contained story, but there's something more poignant, even poetic, about this approach.  What successes are achieved by the protagonists are far smaller in scale, but manage the same degree of catharsis when they finally pull them off.  Despite not ending with the joy that comes from a decisive military victory, just knowing that our heroes are safe and sound again (for the most part) still evokes warm and fuzzy feelings, especially after all they've been through.  Between that and the moral duality of pretty much all its characters, The Empire Strikes Back takes a darker and more mature approach with its story, but in a good way.  Having clear-cut good guys and bad guys is all well and... good for fiction, and no diss to the first Star Wars for taking that approach, but it does not reflect the real world very well.  Admitting that there is both good and bad in every person is an important part of growing up, and The Empire Strikes Back does not sugarcoat this message.  This willingness to take chances, combined with the improved production techniques, shows how to do a sequel right.

Positives:
+ A brilliant running theme of moral duality.
+ More ambitious and improved special effects.

Negatives:
- The scenes on Dagobah are a bit slower on action, but serve their purpose.

Acting: 5 AT-ATs out of 5
Writing: 5 AT-ATs out of 5
Special Effects: 5 AT-ATs out of 5
Visual Design: 5 AT-ATs out of 5
The Call: 100% (A+)

Film Review: Star Wars

Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope

• Publisher: 20th Century Fox
• Production Company: Lucasfilm
• Release: 25 May 1977
• Genre: Action, Science-fiction
• Director: George Lucas
• Producer: Gary Kurtz
• Writer: George Lucas

A new Star Wars movie is soon on its way to theatres as I write this, so you know what that means: more Star Wars reviews!  And to that end, I've got the urge to review the movies themselves.  All of them.  Well, all that matter, anyway.  I've had some personal debate as to whether to review them in order of release, starting with 1977's Episode IV, or in order of story, with 1999's Episode I.  Then I thought, there's still a story to be had by looking at it in terms of release order, as we can see how the crew behind the movies evolved, or devolved, their craft over time.  So, Episode IV it is, then!

The titular "star wars", at least in this particular trilogy, refer to a civil war between the Galactic Empire and the Rebel Alliance.  The film starts when an imperial space ship, a Star Destroyer, captures a smaller rebel ship.  The boarding party, led by the general Darth Vader (David Prowse, voice of James Earl Jones), is in search of blueprints for the Death Star, a giant space-station superweapon, which were stolen by the rebellion.  But just in time, rebel leader Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher) has hidden the plans with two droids named C-3PO and R2-D2, and ejects them to a nearby planet before she gets captured.  Landing on the desert planet Tatooine, the droids are picked up by Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill).  He doesn't know what to make of them, until he brings him to his friend, the wise old Obi-Wan Kenobi (Alec Guinness).  Through Obi-Wan, Luke learns about the war raging across the galaxy, and about the mystical magical force known as... the Force.  After the empire finds and kills Luke's adoptive parents, it's up to them, the smuggler Han Solo (Harrison Ford), and his furry first-mate Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew) to return the Death Star plans back to the rebels, and avert whatever the empire plans to do with it.

Star Wars's universe has copied from many sources, but in a way that still feels original.

There's just something primal and timeless about A New Hope's story; it feels like it's always been with us.  I'm not quite sure what I'm on about, but it may have something to do with the many sources from which it has blatantly borrowed inspiration.  There are parallels, admitted by George Lucas himself, between the Jedi Knights and the samurai of Akira Kurosawa films, between Han Solo and the heroes of various westerns, and between the Death Star battle and movies based on World War II.  There's even a book about how tropes from mythologies, religions, and literature have been repeated over the years, called The Hero with a Thousand Faces, which was also claimed as an influence on Luke Skywalker.  And I don't mean that any of that as a knock against Star Wars; it uses its many source materials in ways that feel completely new.  The best parodies are the ones where you don't have to be familiar with any one of its original materials to enjoy much of the humour, and in a sense that is true of more serious works like this.

When all these familiar plot aspects are injected into a new, foreign, science-fiction setting, it makes it easier for the audience to immerse themselves into the new world on the screen.  Breaking from the traditional trends of science-fiction films of the time, Star Wars pioneered the idea of a "used future", where despite the many technological trappings used by the characters, the loose parts and scrap strewn about the place shows, without words, how places like Tatooine are suffering under the empire.  When our heroes land in the empire's Death Star, the cold cleanliness of its set dressings provide effective contrast as well.  Although, one wonders why there have to be so many bottomless pits throughout the darn thing.  And ledges without railings, too!  Man, if OSHA existed in the Star Wars universe, the Empire would never hear the end of it.  And don't get me started on how they can have ship hangars open to the cold of space, but still have breathable, livable climates on the inside.  ...Seriously, don't get me started, because I have more important topics to get to.

Star Wars made astounding innovations in the field of special effects.

The world of Star Wars is brought to life by its special effects.  In 1977, computer-generated imagery was nowhere near the state it is in today; the best they could muster at the time was the wireframe model of the Death Star that the rebel pilots watch before the final battle.  Rather, the spaceships, as well as the world-famous opening text crawl, were "animated" by moving a camera around stationary models, and compositing them onto the backgrounds.  Other effects, like the glowing blaster bolts and Lightsaber blades, were accomplished by rotoscope animation.  Everything else, especially the various alien and droid costumes, was done physically on the set.  I imagine these effects must have been mind-blowing for 1977 audiences, because even today they still look quite good.  It helps that most of the animated objects were simple light blobs or vehicles with few moving parts, which didn't over-extend the reach of special effects from the time, but   Not all the effects stand the test of time today, but those that do hold up better than some of the CGI added for the special editions, although that's a diversion for another day.

To be perfectly honest, Star Wars does not have the strongest of starts, and that can be blamed upon the droid duo of C-3PO (Anthony Daniels) and R2-D2 (Kenny Baker).  The partially prim and proper Threepio is almost constantly bickering with, and belittling the advice of, his robotic partner.   And since there's quite a stretch of film after they leave Leia but before they meet Luke, this nagging wears on the audience quite a bit. Artoo, meanwhile, only responds with a collection of beeps, which at least lends some degree of comedy to their exploits.  The human characters, however, are far more... human.  Luke has his own dreams for his normal life, and is reluctant to join Obi-Wan's mission until he discovers the death of his step-parents.  Han is only in this mission for the money, and even then only to pay off the mobsters on his back.  And Leia shows a tendency for quick-thinking action from time to time.  Even within the opposing forces, there are heated discussions between Vader, Grand Moff Tarkin (Peter Cushing), and other Imperial officers over the effectiveness of the Death Star and of capturing Leia.

And, of course, it all ends with one of the tensest climaxes I've ever seen in cinema.  In the final battle, Rebel fighter-ships must destroy the Death Star, flying through the trenches along its surface to drop a bomb, before it can fire upon the planet of the Rebel base.  Even after all the times I've re-watched this movie, this part always leaves me on pins and needles.  Good thing, too, because Star Wars is worth re-watching, as you never know what new details you'll pick up from its plot or setting each time.  There's a smarmy sort of knowledge to be held once you've seen the later movies, and you go back to this one to find out what little facts were maintained throughout the series, and what eventually got changed.  But it doesn't take knowledge of the other entries to really enjoy Star Wars, and that's what makes this original entry special among all the others.

Positives:
+ A simple but deep story.
+ Brilliant world-building, some of it completely non-verbal.
+ Innovative and still-solid special effects.
+ The pulse-pounding ending battle.

Negatives:
- The early exploits of C-3PO and R2-D2 are long and a bit annoying.

Acting: 4 Death Stars out of 5
Writing: 5 Death Stars out of 5
Special Effects: 5 Death Stars out of 5
Visual Design: 5 Death Stars out of 5
The Call: 95% (A)

Comic Book Review: Ms. Marvel

Ms. Marvel

• Publisher: Marvel Comics 
• Writer: G. Willow Wilson 
• Artists: Adrian Alphona, et. al. 
• Editor: Sana Amanat 
• Release: 05 February 2014 - 14 October 2015 

Call it crazy, but I'm not that familiar with American superhero comics. Yes, I'm well-acquainted with the sequential art form, and have even dabbled in it myself, but much of that experience comes from webcomics or Japanese manga. And I do have a working knowledge of the characters of that medium, but most of it comes from the other corners of their pop-culture exposure, especially their movies. Still, every so often a bit of news comes out of the comic-book sphere which captures my attention to some degree. For example, when I heard about the new Ms. Marvel series from 2014, I was intrigued, because this new interpretation of the character would represent a heroic role model for a people long marginalized in not just this medium, but society in macrocosm: people from Jersey City! Oh, and Muslims. Ms. Marvel is the first Muslim-American hero to come out of Marvel Comics' lineup. I guess I should have mentioned that first.

So yeah. This series stars a sixteen-year-old, Pakistani-American girl named Kamala Khan. (If you read her name without thinking of Captain Kirk's immortal scream from Star Trek II, you are stronger-willed than I. Even the series itself falls victim to it later on.) Well, on her way home from a bad party, she finds herself enveloped in a strange mist, sees a vision of Captain Marvel, Iron Man, and Captain America reciting Urdu poetry, and the next thing she knows, she has shapeshifting powers. First of all, a disclaimer: I am not making any of that up. Second, you may be wondering, as did I, how did this event come about? Surely it was a completely random occurrence, you might think. Well apparently, this mist was the product of something called a Terrigen bomb, which awoke various powers in a select few people. I'm guessing this happened in a different story, so a little extra knowledge on current events in the Marvel universe would not go amiss.

So enough about Kamala as a superhero, how is she as a Muslim character? See, here's the thing: if I told you, without any other context whatsoever, that someone at Marvel was creating a Muslim hero, odds are your impression of her would be that her appearance, or even her powers, would be an obvious, overly basic representation of her religious heritage.

For example. [1]  And that would not be farther from the truth. In fact, one of the things that struck me the most about Kamala, both in her civilian and hero personae, is that apart from when attending her local mosque, she never wears a headscarf. Now, as an outsider, I have my own preconceptions about Muslims. Not that they are all terrorists out to destroy the Western world, perish the thought. Heck, I'd go so far as to say that over 99% of Muslims are law-abiding citizens. But I still tend to instinctively identify them as, for lack of a better term, some kind of "Stop Having Fun" guys; I mean, they strictly adhere to certain rules which I may or may not view as reasonable. Speaking as an outsider, I'm not a fan of the hijab in principle. I wouldn't go yanking off the hijabs of women I pass walking by or anything, but I'd prefer them to stop and think about why they wear it. For what it's worth, both the writer (G. Willow Wilson) and editor (Sana Amanat) are Muslim women (either by birth or conversion), and also grew up in Jersey City to boot, so I have faith that they know what they're doing.

The situations Kamala deals with in her civilian life are actually quite universal.

Even so, the restrictions Kamala's parents try (and fail) to put on her have less to do with their religion, and are more so the concerns of parents trying to keep their child safe and out of trouble. The most important thing about building a character like this, is that they shouldn't be defined by only one trait (Islam, in this case). It's a complex issue, and there's no golden ratio to follow every time, but if I could personally give you a piece of advice: nobody likes a one-trick pony. [2]  Indeed, Kamala is no one-trick pony. She's a self-professed geek who enjoys playing not-World Of Warcraft, singing along with old Bollywood movies, and writing Avengers fan-fiction (Mind you, the Avengers are real people in her universe). She even has fangirl freak-outs when she meets other heroes like Wolverine, Spider-Man, Loki, and the original Ms. Marvel, Carol Danvers, in the flesh, as it were. She bristles against her strict parents, and sometimes endures bullying from her peers, but they all manage to see the good in each other in the end. She barely even wears a hijab; only when going to services at her local mosque, or on other special occasions. And the one moment I connected with her the most with had nothing to do with her religion.

Without spoiling too much (outside of spoiler tags, that is), the villain of the first arc has convinced a number of teens to submit themselves to his evil plan, namely to use their bodies as a clean energy source. Kamala manages to talk them out of it by convincing them that, despite the older generations branding them as useless, their talents can still be used to build a better world with them in it. What struck me about this passage is that the villain's logic parallels the way ISIL and other terror groups attempt to recruit young members, by making them think they're standing up for their brethren, when in fact they're just throwing their lives away, in some cases literally, all for killing their fellow man. And do you want to know the funny thing about all this? Not once is Islam even referred to in this case. It just goes to show the power comic books have, to use these more fantastical stories as allegories to real-life affairs, without coming across as forced. And then the villain, a reincarnation of Thomas Edison with a bird's head, barges in on a robot wearing a bowler hat, because comics are weird like that.

DISCLAIMER: I was not making up that robot-bowler-hat thing.

So, enough of the heavy stuff; let's get technical. Ms. Marvel has had numerous artists throughout its run, but most issues were drawn by Adrian Alphona. His style is... an acquired taste, shall I say, because it's kind of sketchy.  Literally, anyway.  That may bug some people and not others, so if I may make a more objective observation, I do like the numerous background jokes he throws in here and there. For example, Kamala can be seen in a few panels eating her preferred breakfast cereal called "GMO's" (a play on Cheerios and Genetically Modified Organisms, if you didn't get it). My personal favourite artist to have worked on Ms. Marvel is Takeshi Miyazawa from issues #13-15, whose style is far cleaner and more closely resemble true manga, but again, that's just my opinion.

I came in to Ms. Marvel expecting a different, more positive, portrayal of Muslims in America, and I got that all right, but so much more on top of it. I got somebody trying to find her own place in an unforgiving world, but rising up at the end of it all to stand up for my generation, as a Millenial. And while the ending of this 19-issue series wasn't quite satisfying, there is thankfully a second Ms. Marvel series, continuing to this day, picking up where the first one left off (as part of the franchise-wide "All-New, All-Different Marvel" quasi-reboot). This year I've started getting into western superhero comics, and I couldn't ask for a better jumping-on point than Ms. Marvel. Thank you, Kamala Khan, for teaching me how to love again.

Positives:

+ Kamala Khan is a positive role model for... just about everyone.

+ Well-written characters, whether they represent minorities or not.

+ Plenty of humourous background details.

Negatives:

- The first series sort of ends on a whimper.

- Adrian Alphona's art style is a bit sketchy.

Dialogue: 5 robot bowler hats out of 5
Plot: 4 robot bowler hats out of 5
Characters: 5 robot bowler hats out of 5
Artwork: 4 robot bowler hats out of 5
The Call: 90% (A-)

Furthermore, if I may be allowed to editorialise for a bit: Ms. Marvel, both the series and the character herself, are perfect reasons why Donald Trump should not be elected President of the United States. Although Kamala herself was born in Jersey City, her parents emigrated from Pakistan before she was born. If a president like Trump were calling the shots at the time, Kamala's parents would never have made it to America, and her story would not even have the chance to have happened. So that's two strikes against his racist isolation doctrine. Whereas the world according to Trump collectively sorts people into preordained and assumed roles, I, on the other hand, personally believe that everybody in this world has the potential to contribute to their society. This also ties into what was the most emotionally engaging moment I read in the series thus far: the bit where Ms. Marvel encouraged all those teenagers not to throw their lives away, and contribute to a better society in their own ways. As the great philosopher Bobby Nunn once said, "Don't knock it until you try it".

I'm IchigoRyu, and I approve this message.

You are the resistance.

---

[1] Wilstein, Matt. "Twitter Goes After Conan O'Brien for 'Racist' Muslim Female Superhero Joke". Mediaite, 9 November 2013. http://www.mediaite.com/online/twitter-goes-after-conan-obrien-for-racist-muslim-female-superhero-joke/

[2] MrEnter. "Avoiding Unfortunate Implications: The Characters". deviantART, 10 April 2016. http://mrenter.deviantart.com/art/Avoiding-Unfortunate-Implications-The-Characters-602166339

Film Review: When Marnie Was There vs. Inside Out

When Marnie Was There Publisher: Toho (JP), GKIDS / Universal (NA)  Production Company: Studio Ghibli  Genre: Drama  Release: 19 July 2014 (JP), 22 May 2015 (NA)  Director: Hiromasa Yonebayashi  Producers: Yoshiaki Nishimura, Toshio Suzuki  Writers: Masashi Andō, Keiko Niwa, Hiromasa Yonebayashi	Inside Out Publisher: Disney  Production Company: Walt Disney Pictures / Pixar Animation Studios  Genre: Comedy / Drama  Release: 19 June 2015  Directors: Pete Docter, Ronnie del Carmen  Producer: Jonas Rivera  Writers: Pete Docter, Meg LeFauve, Josh Cooley

Welp, another year, another Academy Awards ceremony. And you know what that means: they're gonna give the Best Animated Feature award to the Disney/Pixar behemoth. It happened to Frozen over The Wind Rises, it happened to Big Hero 6 over The Tale of The Princess Kaguya, and odds are it'll happen again. I've been preparing for the worst, especially since the "big one" of 2015, Pixar's Inside Out, is going up against When Marnie Was There, the last feature film Studio Ghibli may ever make. In a past article, I told you how I saw Marnie in theatres, despite its limited release, and enjoyed it. Well, in the interest of voting with my wallet, I refused to do the same for Inside Out, even when they gave it an encore run for Labor Day. Eventually I rented the movie and, I'm ashamed to say it... it was awesome. But then I realised something: both Marnie and Inside Out tackle the same basic story in different ways. Marnie focuses on the characters themselves, whereas Inside Out focuses on what's going on inside the main character's mind, with her personified emotions. So, I thought, now would be the best time to do another joint review on the two movies. That way, I can pre-empt the Academy more substantially than just a joke at the end of my last article.

In When Marnie Was There, our central character is Anna "no, not that one" Sasaki (EN: Hayley Steinfeld, JP: Sara Takatsuki), a twelve-year-old girl living in Hokkaido, who is shy but loves drawing. When she suffers an athsma attack, her foster parents send her to live out to a seaside village with her aunt and uncle. While exploring her new surroundings, she comes across a dilapidated mansion, and in the window, a blonde girl of her age named Marnie (EN: Kiernan Shipka, JP: Kasumi Arimura). Over the next few nights, she starts spending time with Marnie, building their freindship and uncovering the mysteries behind Marnie's life, as well as her own.

So yeah, Marnie sticks rather closely to the Ghibli playbook. But, as it turns out, this movie was based on a novel of the same name, written by the British author Joan G. Robinson in 1967. Studio Ghibli has adopted Western literature before; Howl's Moving Castle and The Secret World of Arietty (a.k.a. The Borrowers) spring to mind. The central plot device of Marnie, if there is one, is figuring out what the deal is with its titular character. Is she a real girl? Is she a ghost? Is she a figment of Anna's imagination? Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Without wishing to spoil, the way they explain all of this in the final act is kind of rushed. I mean, Anna doesn't even start her investigation into Marnie's past until halfway through the movie!

The feels that Marnie generates are weapons-grade.

But what the film lacks in a good overarcing plot, it makes up for in the individual moments that comprise the plot. When I was watching, I found myself lost in the emotions of the main characters: joy when they're playing together, sadness when they're sharing their darkest secrets, and bittersweet resignation when it's time for Anna to leave. (Sort of like Ghibli themselves.) To put it another way, this is what I wished Frozen was like when reviewed it: it focuses solely on its two main characters and how they develop together. And I have to give a shout-out to the foley artist, because the sound effects in this movie are amazing. For some reason, I don't normally notice this sort of thing, but when certain scenes go on without music and even dialog, you have to notice them. And from the waves lapping at the creaking wood of a rowboat, the sound effects do even more to build upon the ambience of some scenes.

Having re-watched When Marnie Was There, I seem to have enjoyed it less than I did at first. If it wanted to have the mystery of Marnie be its driving plot thread, they should have spaced out its developments more evenly across the film, rather than bunch them all up near the end. And some of Anna's behaviours are downright bizarre, although I suppose they do illustrate the gaping void in her mental state that only Marnie can fill. In conclusion, is it Studio Ghibli's best effort? Probably not, although they have set the bar so phenomenally high for themselves in the past, mind you. If you don't mind not having a strong plot to hook you from one scene to the next, and can get by on the scenes themselves, I would still recommend When Marnie Was There.

---

Meanwhile, in Inside Out, our central character is Riley Andersen (Kaitlyn Dias), an eleven-year-old girl living in Minnesota, who is goofy but honest, and loves hockey. The difference here is that much of the movie is, in fact, portrayed from the point of view of personified emotions living in her head. In order of introduction, they are Joy (Amy Poehler), Sadness (Phyllis Smith), Fear (Bill Hader), Disgust (Mindy Kaling), and Anger (Lewis Black). These emotions control Riley's actions at the appropriate moments, generating memories tied to those emotions. But then, everything changes when when her family moves to San Francisco. Due to a series of unfortunate events, Joy and Sadness get stranded together outside their headquarters and must venture back somehow.

The world of Riley's psyche is nothing short of a joy to behold. Functions of the brain are illustrated in inventive ways, such as the formation of memories, ideas, personality traits, and dreams. A highlight is when Joy and Sadness wander into a section of Riley's mind where new general ideas abstracted from specific ones. In the movie, this means that Joy and Sadness are devolved into low-polygon and eventually 2D forms as they try to escape. Sure, nothing comes about from it in practice and it is never brought up again (making it the movie's "Big Lipped Alligator Moment"), but the process they go through shows great research of psychology on the part of the writers. I mean, as far as I know about psychology. We also get to see glimpses of similar mental setups of different characters here and there, each tailored to their own personality.

Inside Out's settings look like they came straight from the mind of Willy Wonka -- almost literally.

What Inside Out has over Marnie is how it manages to create suspence to hook the viewer in. For example, in Riley's head there exist five "personality islands", depicting her interests and personality traits. Over the course of her mental breakdown, the island crumble into the bottomless pit below. We are told that whatever falls down there, i.e. memories that are no longer needed, can never return. But later on in the story, Joy falls down there herself, where said pit is decidedly non-bottomless, and of course she comes back out of it. And of course she does it with the help of someone who sacrifices himself to let her escape. So, it would seem that Inside Out isn't above employing the odd sappy cliche here and there, albeit rarely. Although I will give them credit for actually showing her eventual mode of egress falling into the pit earlier on. Let that be but one example of Pixar's attention to detail.

While I'm nitpicking, isn't it a bit lopsided for Riley to have one "positive" emotion, namely Joy, and four "negative" ones, especially when the one Joy gets stuck with, Sadness, has a bad habit of converting memories to sad ones by touching them? To the film's credit, and without wishing to spoil, they do address this. Speaking of the emotions, one of the most important things to keep in mind when assembling a cast of voice actors is for each actor to sound distinct from one another. I'm proud to say that this is another of Inside Out's strengths. Amy Poehler was perfectly cast as Joy, although I did love her on Saturday Night Live to begin with. The other emotion characters also manage to bring their titular personality traits through by their voice alone.

My prejudices against CG animation being what they are, "pleasantly surprised" doesn't begin to describe my experience with Inside Out. Mind you, Marnie managed to get those emotions across to the viewer without needing to personify them. But if you ask me, Inside Out had the better story, and getting to witness such creative sights along the way was a bonus. There are a few stupid or silly moments to nitpick, but they are rare and don't represent the film as a whole. All things considered, I would recommend both films for different reasons. If you want straight-up, weapons-grade feels, try out When Marnie Was There. If you want a gripping story to go with those feels, go with Inside Out. It's a big world out there, certainly big enough for both of them.

When Marnie Was There Positives: + Individual scenes are packed with emotion. + Deals with a number of complex themes. + Brilliant sound-effect work. Negatives: - For less patient viewers, it lacks a suspenceful hook. - Retreads more than a few story tropes covered by past Ghibli films. - The rushed conclusion. Acting: 4 emotions out of 5 Writing: 3 emotions out of 5 Design: 4 emotions out of 5 Audiovisual: 5 emotions out of 5 The Call: 80% (B)

Inside Out Positives: + Well-researched and creative interpretations of the brain's functions. + Terriffic voice-acting that complements each character's personality. Negatives: - It has a few minor plot holes. Acting: 5 emotions out of 5 Writing: 4 emotions out of 5 Design: 5 emotions out of 5 Audiovisual: 5 emotions out of 5 The Call: 95% (A)

---

In the end, I may not like to admit it, but not only do I think Inside Out is the better movie, I probably wouldn't lose sleep if it won the Best Animated Feature Oscar. But that's not the whole story. There's this thing called the Annie Awards, which has been going on since 1972, and honours animation in movies, television, and even video games. Ghibli's movies have been nominated for the Annie's Best Animated Feature awards several times over, and just like in the Oscars, failed to actually win.

But this time around, for the 43rd Annie Awards held on 6 February 2016, they added a new category: "Best Animated Feature - Independent", and I'm glad they did. This means that films with lower profiles but bigger hearts don't have to compete against our mainstream monstrosities. Not that such "mainstream monstrosities" can't also have heart, as we learned in this article. But the important thing is that now, for once, the underdogs have a more level playing field.

Oh, and for the record, the winner of the independent award was the Brazilian feature Boy and the World. It looks great, but given the fate of Studio Ghibli, I can't help but feel a little disappointed... Studio Ghibli may be dead, or just in a coma depending on whim you talk to, but another door to the wider world of animation is opening to us. Let's keep opening more doors, shall we?

This is IchigoRyu.

You are the resistance.

Indie-Cember 2: Undertale

Previously on the SDP, I reviewed Freedom Fall, with which I noted similarities to Portal for its simple but deep gameplay, and its simple but deep storytelling. Let's go for two.

Undertale

• Publisher/Developer: tobyfox 
• Lead Designer: Toby Fox 
• Release: PC, 15 September 2015 
• Genre: Role-Playing 
• Players: 1 

Violence in video games is one of those things we take for granted. For most genres, there are conflicts between characters in the stories, and obstacles the player must overcome themselves. And I'm not some stop-having-fun-guy who doesn't want anybody exposed to such fictional harmful acts. Otherwise, I wouldn't have reviewed so many games over the years. But every so often, you stop and think about this sort of thing. We don't treat our real-world problems by blasting away at them or whatever -- at least I hope we don't -- so is there some way this could work in a game? To answer that question, developer and composer Toby Fox has blessed us with Undertale. Undertale bills itself as "The Friendly RPG Where Nobody Has To Die". Let's see how that turned out.

You play as a gender-neutral child who one day fell down a hole and into a world of monsters. There are all kinds of monsters to be found here: some will just want to talk to you, or even help you, but most would rather fight you instead. It is within these random encounters that we see our "combat" system, which is unique among turn-based RPGs. You attack by pressing a button in time with a meter, and you avoid damage by taking control of a heart icon and dodging white objects, as in a bullet-hell shoot-em-up game. Just as there are many varieties of creatures you'll face off against, there are even more types of projectiles you'll have to steer yourself clear of.

You must dodge random objects to defend yourself.

Already this "combat" system should interest you more than the average RPG. But I said "combat" in quotes because you are never forced to fight your enemies. Instead, you can use various other commands to interact with your enemies in other ways. Each enemy has their own pattern of actions to be employed against them, when triggered, lets you spare them instead. Sparing your enemies rewards you with money but not experience points, and as such you won't be able to level up and increase your health if you do so. As such, killing your foes and not killing them provide two different experiences of the same story.

If you want this game to surprise you as much as possible, please disregard the rest of this paragraph. There are also separate endings based on whether you've killed all, some, or none of the monsters you encounter. I'm not too keen on this in theory, since it boils down to a binary moral choice system. I would And I must warn you, that attempting a "genocide" play-through may leave you with some unsettling moments. For example, early on in the game, a goat-mother thing named Toriel takes you in, gives you a room of your own, and even leaves a slice of pie out for you. It's a warm and fuzzy feeling, I tell you what. But then when you try to leave, she becomes a boss fight, and killing her just because I was attempting the "genocide" run made me feel like an awful person. Besides, if you only stick to fighting, you won't get the full taste of the "battle" system, so at least Undertale manages to persuade you to stick to the virtuous path by gameplay mechanics alone.

The game has a quirky sense of humour.

Fortunately, Undertale isn't completely downbeat in tone, as there is plenty of comedy to be had. Much of it relies on misdirection, on setting up a scenario one way and then surprising you with an unexpected outcome. For example, there are plenty of puzzles to keep you occupied in-between battles and text boxes, but the game has a bad habit of setting up some of the more intricate puzzles, only to change its mind and either solve them for you or make them ridiculously easy. Anticlimactic, yes, but I suppose it's part of the humour. I'm reminded of the Earthbound (or Mother, if you are so inclined) games because of their shared quirky nature.

This connection also extends to the graphical style of Undertale, which has a simplistic approach to it, hovering somewhere in the realm of 8-bit. As I've said time and time again, I can live with simplistic artwork, as too much detail to the visuals would distract game designers from other, more important things they could be working on. I wish the soundtrack would make up its mind as to whether it wants to be completely chiptune-based or not, although the songs themselves are properly ambient and/or melodic at the appropriate moments. Also, Undertale isn't terribly long, as I finished my first play-through in two to three hours. But it didn't feel that short, as it gave me enough distinct settings to feel like a grand journey. Besides, as much as I like JRPGs on an aesthetic level, I can't seem to get into them anymore for how tortuously padded and drawn-out they can get. So in the end, I would describe Undertale as the RPGs for people who hate RPGs, but really I'd recommend it to everyone just to show the potential of what video games can be and do.

Positives:
+ Innovative "battle" system.
+ Many funny and bitersweet moments.
+ Not long, but just the right length for an RPG.

Negatives:
- The fight/act "battle" system is a binary moral-choice structure in disguise.
- The art and music styles are a bit inconsistent.

Control: 5 out of 5
Design: 5 out of 5
Writing: 5 out of 5
Graphics: 4 out of 5

Sound: 4 out of 5

Value: 4 out of 5
The Call: 95% (A)

---

So, it appears we've reached the end of Indie-Cember 2. Sorry I didn't manage to get out all the reviews I wanted. Apparently the holidays make me less productive than I anticipated beforehand. No seriously, most of my SDP-related productivity was working to update my old James Bond reviews for YouTube. But as for the stuff I didn't get to during Indie-Cember 2, I was thinking, why should I confine them to just one month out of the year? I have my desires and fears for the game industry, so why not bring these smaller titles to your attention throughout the rest of the year? After all, as I like to say, we must be the change we wish to see in the world. In other words,

This is IchigoRyu.

You are the resistance.

Oh, and Happy New Year!

Game Review: Shantae and the Pirate's Curse

Shantae and the Pirate's Curse

• Publisher: WayForward 
• Developer: WayForward / Inti Creates 
• Release: 
• Nintendo 3DS: 23 October 2014 
• Wii U: 25 December 2014 
• PC: 23 April 2015 
• Genre: 2D Action 
• Players: 1 

Previously on the SDP, I reviewed the first two Shantae games. So naturally, me writing a review of the latest sequel was inevitable. If you'll recall my review of Risky's Revenge, the second game in the series, my greatest complaint was its short length. However, I did try to give it the benefit of the doubt, assuming that WayForward had so much trouble trying to find a publisher after the commercial failure of the first game. Well, at the risk of spoiling this review, I'm pleased to report this is no longer the case for the newest entry, Shantae and the Pirate's Curse. Maybe they've gotten used to this whole digital-distribution thing now, so that they don't have to work their budgets around what a publisher will or won't give them. Or maybe it's because they collaborated on this game with Inti Creates, a Japanese development team famous for, among other things, the Mega Man Zero series, Azure Striker Gunvolt, and the upcoming Mighty No.9 (with Comcept). They even made a port of Pirate's Curse for the Wii U, thus beating the crowdfunded 1/2-Genie Hero to become the series' first console game, and later followed by a PC port, just like Risky's Revenge. So does this new influx of resources, man-hours, and/or willpower translate to a better game?

When a brand-new evil entity known as the Pirate Master threatens the safety of Sequin Land, our heroine, the half-genie Shantae, and her nemesis, the lady pirate Risky Boots, must form an uneasy alliance to take him down. Shantae's trademarked dance-powered animal transformations are unavailable this time around, due to a run-in with the plot last time around. So in lieu of those, progress is controlled by the acquiring of various pirate paraphernelia. There's a pistol to shoot switches and deal light damage, a scimitar to break blocks underfoot, a giant hat to glide with while jumping, and so on. And unlike the aforementioned transformations, which require you to stop and enter some form of dance mode to activate, each of these new moves has their own button input or inputs. It's like the developers said, "We've got six buttons to work with on this 3DS thing, and by gum, we're going to use them!"

New equipments like the Pirate Hat elevate the gameplay experience, pardon the pun. (3DS version.)

Control ergonomics aside, this decision was a good one in the interest of making the gameplay feel fresh again. They don't offer the same abilities as the animal transformations from the first two games, but nonetheless offer new possibilities for exploring the game worlds. But it's not all different: the series' traditional attack items such as Fire Balls, Pike Balls, and Storm Puffs are back again. Whereas attack items in Risky's Revenge were fueled by a magic meter, Pirate's Curse switches them back to being consumables. However, they can be dropped by defeated enemies as well as purchased from the shop, so things even out on that front. Once again, Heart Squids may be collected to extend Shantae's maximum health, although instead of instantly taking effect as you would expect to see in most video games, you have to bring them to the "squidsmith" in Scuttle Town, who will smash them four at a time to form new heart containers. Sadistic, yes, but it also clues you in to the level of comedy you'll be dealing with in Pirate's Curse.

Instead of the singular overworld map employed in the first two Shantaes, and indeed most every Metroidvania-type game, the world of Pirate's Curse is laid out across six or so islands, one of them being the main town and the others each containing one of the games dungeon levels, and connected by a hub menu. This was also a great decision, as it cuts down on travel time quite a bit. Besides, Dust: An Elysian Tail also did this sort of thing, and that was one of the few video games I gave a perfect score to! There were still a few fetch quests which had me lost the first time around, and some of the pre-dungeon events drug on just long enough to be not fun. For example, a mid-game episode on Tan Line Island forces you into a stealth section. Still, my first play-through clocked in at about 8 hours, and if I may say so, it was 8 hours well-spent. Beating the game once unlocks the Pirate Mode, where you get all the pirate acccessories from the start of the game. If nothing else, it lets us laypeople experiment with speed-running through the game.

The character portraits look neat in stereoscopic 3D. ...Take my word for it. (Wii U version.)

The pseudo-16-bit art style of Risky's Revenge has gone largely unchanged for Pirate's Curse, although I suppose it's neat to see more enemies from the first game returning with a visual upgrade. For a game whose graphics engine relies mainly on 2D sprites, the few times that stereoscopic 3D effects in (the 3DS version of) Pirate's Curse are used are all the more notable, especially on the character portraits during dialogue scenes. Obviously this doesn't apply to the Wii U and PC ports, where said portraits were re-drawn to take advantage of the higher screen resolutions, but the other art assets were not. WayForward has done HD graphics before, even on games ported from smaller-screened platforms, so this was a curious oversight. I don't know, maybe they're saving all that work for Half-Genie Hero. The soundtrack, once again composed by Jake Kaufman, is also partly recycled from the last game, but it was cool then and is still cool now. Once again it takes melodies from the first game, along with new ones, and jacking them up with Middle-Eastern and other influences. Pirate's Curse is also the first Shantae game to introduce voice acting, tastefully limited to a few sound bites in gameplay and cutscenes. In case you're interested, the leading lady is played by Christina "Vee" Valenzuela, also known for playing Cerebella in Skullgirls, and Sailor Mars from the new Sailor Moon dub.

Still, I must stress that gameplay, not graphics, is nine-tenths of the law. Apart from the new abilities and streamlined world layout, I like how the little damage point numbers that pop up like from a classic RPG, or the halfway-decent map screen, including maps for dungeons, a glaring omission in the last game. It's the little details like those which take the experience over the top, although there are other details I wish had been cleaned up. I wish that I could leave notes on the maps when I find a place to come back to later (maybe I've been spoiled by The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds). It would certainly help me keep track of the numerous, and often unintuitive, trading-game fetch quests needed to progress through the game, as it's easy to ignore places you'll need to put things later on. Then there's the smaller stuff, like how the sub-menu automatically switches pages when I find a key item or something. But smaller stuff aside, Pirate's Curse ranks up there with sequels such as The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, Mega Man Legends 2, or Just Cause 2, which don't reinvent too much, but fine-tune the experiences of their predecessor whilst offering far more of it. Pirate's Curse is clearly the best game in the Shantae series thus far, offering a challenging hurdle for 1/2-Genie Hero to clear. But whether or not it does, the SDP and I will be all over that like black on a Tinkerbat.  (...Don't look at me like that. Risky Boots's minions aren't African, they're literally black-skinned monster thingies.)

Positives:
+ More content than the first two games (combined).
+ The pirate tools offer up new abilities for exploration.
+ Tasteful introduction of voice acting.
+ Retains the series' sense of humour.

Negatives:
- Some of the fetch quests can leave you wandering aimlessly to solve them.
- A few sections of the game appear to drag on, if only for being less fun than the rest of the game.
- The lack of upscaled graphics in the Wii U and PC ports seem like a missed opportunity.

Controls: 5 pirate tools out of 5
Design: 4 pirate tools out of 5
Graphics: 5 pirate tools out of 5
Sound: 5 pirate tools out of 5
Value: 4 pirate tools out of 5
The Call: 90% (A-)

Film Review: The Wind Rises

Previously on the SDP, I discussed the Studio Ghibli film The Wind Rises on two occasions. First, I discussed its ramifications in the context of the Japanese political right, and second, I lamented its lack of exposure and acclaim from my own country. But between the time I first saw it in theatres and when I got to re-watch it on home video, The Wind Rises became, to me, less of an actual product and more of an icon, an ideal, something I chose to stand for. But now that it finally came out on home video and I've had a chance to re-watch it, how does it stand against my mind's interpretation of it?

The Wind Rises

• Publisher: Toho (JP), Touchstone Pictures (US) 
• Studio: Studio Ghibli 
• Genre: Drama 
• Release: 20 July 2013 (JP), 21 February 2014 (US) 
• Director: Hayao Miyazaki 
• Producer: Toshio Suzuki 
• Writer: Hayao Miyazaki

The Wind Rises bills itself as a fictionalised biography of a one Jiro Horikoshi (EN: Joseph Gordon-Levitt, JP: Hideaki Anno), a Japanese airplane designer active in the 1920s and '30s. Sounds like a boring idea for an animated movie, doesn't it? Well if you thought that, A) you suck, and B) Studio Ghibli has ways to punch it up every once in a while. At points throughout the movie, the plot is intercut with Jiro's dreams, where he interacts with a mister Giovanni Caproni (EN: Stanley Tucci, JP: Nomura Mansai), a real-life Italian plane designer who inspires him to embark down a similar path in life. And indeed Jiro does go down that path, studying aviation in high school and eventually landing a job with the Mitsubishi company, all the while accompanied by his friend Kiro Honjo (EN: John Krasinski, JP: Hidetoshi Nishijima).

The character of Honjo stuck out to me, in what few scenes he took part in, because of his commentary on the state of Japan at the time. This movie takes place, at the latest, half a century after the Meiji Revolution brought Japan back onto the world stage, but even then, the nation's industry and modernisation was a work in progress. The Japanese of the time might have been able to make airplanes, but they were still using wood-and-canvas frames whereas their peers in Germany, the United States, and what-have-you had advanced to full-metal models. Perhaps this state of affairs is best encapsulated in an observation Honjo makes, that they still use oxen to transport prototype planes to the takeoff/landing site. It's as if the whole of Japan is a character in and of itself, having its own character arc and all that.

So as you witness this transition take place over the course of the movie, you'd be forgiven for thinking The Wind Rises is taking a nationalistic standpoint on history. You may also feel troubled if you know your basic 20th century history, because this development also led to the Japanese Empire thinking it could get away with bringing its neighbours under its fold -- the hard way. But The Wind Rises is surprisingly apolitical about the whole thing. If anything, it's against war in general, which for the record is also the point of Miyazaki-sama himself. There are a few lines in the script when Jiro states disapproval of how his creations were used for such destruction, but at the end of the day he is proud of his contributions to the field of aviation. As he and Signior Caproni discussed in one of their dreams, he'd still rather live in a world with the dreams of aviation realised. There's even a moment when Jiro discusses how to cut the weight from one of his models, and he half-jokingly suggests they take out the guns altogether. But, I ask of Horikoshi-san, if you don't want your planes to be used for war, then what, pray tell, is their purpose? It's not like these planes can carry a suitable volume of passengers for peaceful air travel! What did you think would happen when you decided to design fighter planes!? Oh well, you know what they say -- the road to Heck is paved with frozen door-to-door salesmen -- I mean, good intentions.

The Jiro/Naoko romance scenes are sweet, but have little impact on the plot.

So going through the movie, Jiro's career goes through a few ups and downs, until one particular failure causes him to take a sabbatical at a mountain resort, wherein he meets up with Naoko Satomi (EN: Emily Blunt, JP: Miori Takimoto). The two spark up a romance in due time, which goes unextinguished even when he learns that she suffers from tuberculosis, thus casting a shadow of impermanance over their relationship. My problem with this romantic sub-plot is that it doesn't exactly have any say on the main plot of Jiro's career, which especially jarring considering that it doesn't start until about an hour in to the film's runtime. And, in fact, it never even happened to the real Jiro Horikoshi. This little diversion comes from a novel also titled "The Wind Rises", written by Tatsuo Hori in 1937. (Hori-san is, at least, given a dedication slide at the end of the film, along with Horikoshi-san.) Remember when I said this movie was a "fictionalised biography"? Yeah, that's why.

It is a perfectly fine romance, don't get me wrong. I like a good tug at the ol' heartstrings every once in a while, and indeed the Jiro/Naoko sub-plot does this every once in a while, for example when he hears about her lung haemmorhage, or when his boss conducts an impromptu wedding for the young couple. All in all, it still leaves me with a warm and fuzzy feeling, and as my praise for the similarly emotional Kaleido Star indicates, this is a positive quality in my book. But you could cut out Naoko's scenes and not only would The Wind Rises not suffer for it, but it would bring the film's 127-minute running time down to a more manageable length.

Whilst on the subject of this film's flaws, I thought the English voice cast was a tad hit-or-miss. Actually, I can think of only one miss, but it's a big one. Maybe Joseph Gordon-Levitt wasn't the best choice for this role. Why couldn't this Honjo guy have been the main character? Or at the very least, why couldn't his actor have portrayed Jiro instead of Mr. JGL? The same goes for the Japanese track, where the lead character is played by Hideaki Anno, of all people. (If you don't know, this guy created numerous anime series back in the day, and was even an employee at Studio Ghibli once.) There are more engaging performances sprinkled among the supporting cast, such as the aforementioned Honjo-san, Jiro's boss Mr. Kurokawa (EN: Martin Short, JP: Masahiko Nishimura), and his sister Kayo (EN: Mae Whitman, JP: Mirai Shida).

Dream sequences and other visualisations demonstrate the animation prowess of Studio Ghibli.

The Wind Rises is a Studio Ghibli production, so I shouldn't have to tell you how good this movie looks. What few scenes of fast action exist in this movie are animated realistically, yet dynamically at the same time. There are some moments where I wondered if the animators used rotoscoping techniques, and I mean that in a good way. But the film isn't entirely grounded in reality; some scenes take place in the dreams of Jiro and Caproni, as I previously mentioned, and other scenes apply a layer of similar dreamlike visualizations onto otherwise ordinary moments, illustrating Jiro's thought process and what-not. For example, in one scene where Jiro is drafting a design for a certain plane component, we see the finished plane flying in a clear sky, and the wind rustling the pages on his desk. And yet no one seems to notice them... But anyway. these visualisations serve two purposes: they make for visually creative shots, and they explain technical concepts for the laymen of the audience. The score is also magnificent, although I'd expect nothing less from composer Joe Hisaishi, who has worked with Ghibli for a long time. I don't know about you, but I'm a sucker for dramatic scenes where the music is a slow buildup and the sound-effect track is muted entirely. (See also: the opera shootout in Quantum of Solace.)

So if I'm able to find so many flaws upon re-watching this movie, why am I still willing to stand up for it? Well, to put it in one word, it's real. It's not trying to be anything it's not, which is especially notable for an animated feature. You know how Frozen, for example, had musical numbers, comic relief characters, and a romantic sub-plot entirely separate from the rest of the movie? Yeah, The Wind Rises ain't having any of that. Except for that last one... bad example, that. My point is, this story could have fit very well as a live-action film, but Miyazaki chose to have it animated because A) animation is what he's good at, and B) this movie is the story he wanted to tell. And to those who say, "Why did it have to be animated?", I say to them, "Why not?"

Positives:
+ Plenty of emotional moments which left me with a warm and fuzzy feeling.
+ An interesting and well-acted supporting cast.

Negatives:
- The Jiro/Naoko romantic sub-plot could have been left out.
- The lead actor's performance is a tad wooden, both in Japanese and English.

Acting (English): 4 airplanes out of 5
Acting (Japanese): 4 airplanes out of 5
Writing: 4 airplanes out of 5
Animation: 5 airplanes out of 5
Visual Design: 5 airplanes out of 5
The Call: 90% (A-)

P.S.: After I started work on writing this review, it has come to my attention that Hayao Miyazaki, among two others, had won an Academy Honorary Award in November of 2014.[1]  For those who don't know, these awards are given at judges' discretion separately from the regular Oscars, but involve the same statuettes given to winners at the regular ceremony. After having been so unfairly snubbed by the Oscars earlier in the year, I suppose hearing about this development has put my soul at ease a bit. I mean, you could interpret that as him winning the award for all of his films! All the same, for the sake of my mental health, I'm probably going to ignore the Oscars from here on out, or at least the Best Animated Feature category. Wouldn't wan't to have my hopes dashed like that again. I suppose this younger, more worldy generation will make the kinds of changes once we get into positions of power, but until then, I'll leave you with these words:

This is IchigoRyu.

You are the resistance.

---

[1] "Harry Belafonte, Hayao Miyazaki, Maureen O’Hara to get honorary Oscars". Entertainment Weekly. 28 August 2014, retrieved 15 January 2015. http://insidemovies.ew.com/2014/08/28/harry-belafonte-hayao-miyazaki-maureen-ohara-to-get-honorary-oscars/

Anime Review: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Neon Genesis Evangelion

• Studio: Gainax 
• Licensor: ADV (1997-2008), Section23 Films (2009-) (USA) 
• Network: TV Tokyo (JP) 
• Air Dates: 4 October 1995 - 27 March 1996 (JP) 
• Episodes: 26 
• Director: Hideaki Anno 

Previously on the SDP, I reviewed Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water, an anime series created in 1990 by director Hideaki Anno. Five years and one (surprisingly important) bout of depression later, he produced his most famous work yet: the giant-robot saga Neon Genesis Evangelion. Evangelion is a singularity among anime. How can the same show attract so much praise and simultaneously so much scorn? How can it explore so many deep topics about the human psyche, and at the same time get merchandised up the wazoo? (If you're seriously asking that last question, then let me remind you, this is a Japanese property. They pull this kind of stunt all the time.) As for everything else, I would more than likely end up in over my head if I attempted to answer all that myself, so I suppose I should start, and hopefully finish, my knowledge quest by reviewing Neon Genesis Evangelion in the context of my own impressions of it.

The story is as follows: In the year 2000, a cataclysmic explosion in Antarctica wiped out an entire half of the world's population, an event known as Second Impact. Fifteen years later, the creatures responsible for Second Impact -- varied, mysterious beings known as Angels -- are coming to Earth once more, because... reasons. But in the intervening time, mankind, specifically the organization NERV, has developed a weapon to combat the Angels. Such weapons are giant humanoid robots known as Evangelions, or Evas for short. As the Angels advance one by one on NERV's base in Tokyo-3, it's up to the Evas and their juvenile pilots to protect the base and the secrets held therein. Failure to do so could trigger a disaster even worse than Second Impact. So, no pressure, really.

The main protagonist is a 14-year-old lad, Shinji Ikari (EN: Spike Spencer, JP: Megumi Obata). (Yeah, apparently Eva pilots need to have been born after Second Impact, because... reasons.) As the son of none other than NERV's commander Gendo Ikari (EN: Tristan McAvery, JP:Fumihiko Tachiki), Shinji is often reluctant to shoulder his responsibilities as an Eva pilot, so much so that he even attempts to run away from home. More than once. That alone is all well and good, as connoisseurs of giant-robot anime may have at one point wondered how all those teenage robot pilots would have reacted to their situation in real life. But the problem is, that's Shinji's only character trait -- well, that, and coming through in a pinch. If Shinji's too scared to pilot the Eva, then what would he rather be doing with his life? Questions like these are never answered, at least not in the canon of the original series.

Rather, Shinji's character is defined with how he reacts to the situations thrust upon him by other characters. For example, there is Rei Ayanami (EN: Amanda Winn Lee*, JP: Megumi Hayashibara). A pale, blue-haired, and very shy girl, she was Tokyo-3's designated defender just before the show starts. But when she gets introduced to us viewers, she is beaten and bandaged, wheeled out on a gurney in front of Shinji, in order to convince him to pilot the Eva in her stead. And it indeed gives him a reason to fight; whether that reason is chivalry, guilt, or a straight-up boner, I approve this moment for the sole purpose of giving Shinji at least a bit of character. Once Rei recuperates, the two become fast friends, inasmuch as Shinji is able to make friends. And while her status as an ace pilot is, at first, naught but an informed attribute, once the show picks up momentum, she more than holds her own in some rather awesome Angel fights.

The Eva/Angel fights are impressively written and animated,
especially given their intricate character designs.

Call me crazy, but my favourite parts of Neon Genesis Evangelion are what, in any other show, would be its "filler arc" -- the "monster of the day" episodes, wherein a new Angel rears its ugly head (assuming it even has a head), and our heroes at NERV must concoct and carry out some new plan of stopping it. What I love about these episodes is that they all bring something new to the table. One of these Angels splits into two halves that must be vanquished simultaneously. One of them is a giant Blue Water crystal that can only be killed by a long-range sniper shot.  One of them is a larva that must be extracted from out of a volcano. One of them is a computer virus that must be hacked out of commission. One of them takes place at sea -- and the Evas can't swim, so they must jump around on aircraft carriers. And through it all, you might even learn something about one of the characters.

So the show has its fun for a while, but then along comes Episode 18, which I dare say is a masterpiece in a dramatic sense. Without wishing to spoil, it opens up the discussion on topics such as the use of child soldiers. And I'm like, that would have been a great thing to base a series on. But as the series gets progressively darker in these penultimate episodes, its attention span gets a little flighty. As the series wraps up, the Angels arrive in more and more insidious forms, quite a number of plot twists rear their ugly heads, and the psyches of Shinji, Rei, and Asuka get stretched to the breaking point and back again. But because they waited until this far into the series, none of these plot points get the chance to truly stick. So it turns out that Rei was one of many clones created by Gendo from his late wife, you say? That's great and all, but how does that affect the overall story? Not at all, as far as the series proper is concerned.

But it all has to lead up to something, right? I mean, sooner or later, you're gonna wonder where the Angels came from and what beef they have with us Earthlings, no? Well, ask into one hand, spit into the other, and see which fills up first. It turns out that the final two episodes eschew any sort of action, at least into the format we've grown used to, and instead focus on the internal monologue of its characters, as they contemplate their worth as humans and soldiers in the front lines against the Angels. For a total of fifty minutes. Now, if you want to give your characters their moments of introspection, that's all well and good; it shows a fair bit of smarts on your part. But this sort of scene should be a couple minutes long, not the entire runtime of your series finale! They even did this before, in Episode 20! There is a clever bit in one of these episodes where the show is temporarily re-imagined as a slice-of-life school drama, and the "congratulations" scene where Shinji finally makes a breakthrough on the causes of his mental maladies is just as rewarding for the viewer -- but only because we've wasted fifty minutes of our lives that we'll never get back.

Get used to "animation" like this throughout the final two episodes.

Before any commenters pounce upon me with a precision nerd strike, I wish to state two things for the record. One, I am at least aware of Evangelion's expanded universe, which covers not only the original TV series, but the follow-up movie End of Evangelion (which effectively serves as a replacement for the final two episodes), the reboot film series Rebuild of Evangelion, and multiple manga series, each with their own interpretations of the Eva universe. Perhaps some of the questions I asked a couple of paragraphs ago are answered in End of Evangelion, but I have not seen it as of this posting. And besides, if your show is dependent on an auxiliary movie to tie up any loose plot threads, then that's just the mark of lazy storytelling. I mean, when even the lead actor talks smack about your ending, then you have failed.

And two, I am well aware of this show's lack of budget. Despite the impressive action sequences when we get to watch an actual Eva/Angel fight, the animators managed to cut corners in every other way manageable. That's not to say the show doesn't "look" good. The designs of the sets and characters is unique, especially for the Angels and Evas, providing the show with its own cool aesthetic, and many scenes are "shot" with clever composition. But on the other hand, if you're willing to trash your liver, you could make a drinking game out of spotting how many times characters speak with their mouths conspicuously covered, or the "camera" is zoomed out so far away as to make animating lip-flaps not worth the effort. Heck, some scenes even linger on one shot with no motion taking place whatsoever, such as a rather infamous moment from one of the final episodes, which is two minutes of nothing but Shinji's Eva holding some guy in its mighty, oversized hand. And in the interest of saving you two boob-less minutes, here are some spoilers: said guy is Kaworu Nagisa, an Angel in a human's body, and the only one who's ever showed Shinji any form of unconditional appreciation throughout the series, and he gets crushed at the end of it, merely by "virtue" of being an Angel.

Speaking of budget cuts, one area of anime production which typically operates under such lack of resources would be foreign-language dubbing, and for some reason lack of money usually translates into lack of caring. But chronologically speaking, the English dub of Neon Genesis Evangelion (produced by ADV Films in 1997-98) may be the first truly great example of its kind. How can I make this broad claim? Let's take the case of Asuka Langley Soryu (EN: Tiffany Grant, JP: Yuko Miyamura), a hot-headed, half-German Eva pilot who first shows up a couple of episodes in. When her Japanese actress speaks German, it sounds a bit forced, like a Japanese person speaking German. But when her English actress does so, she sounds like an actual German speaking normally. (And I should know; I've taken five years of that language in high school.) That should be all I need to say in regards to how seriously ADV took their jobs, but apart from that, I can honestly say that for the most part, the performances in both the English and Japanese tracks suitably develop the personalities of their respective characters. There are a couple of side characters whose voices get under my nerves more so in English than Japanese, but they're few and far between enough that I can live with that.

If I were to compare Neon Genesis Evangelion to any other franchise, it would be the Metal Gear games -- specifically, Metal Gear Solid 2. See, when they do what they set out to do at the start, they're really good at it. It's when they let their auxiliary message take precedence over the original plot that they start to lose favour in my eyes. (Face it, you took some level of offence when you realised Raiden was nought but a surrogate for the player.) I'm not saying writers shouldn't try to incorporate more in-depth themes into their works, far from it. I'd just prefer there to be a balance between them and the plots set up within the story's own universe. For an example of this done correctly, I point you to Anno-sama's other claim to fame, Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water. From time to time, the heroine's words and actions reflect upon the value of life, and it's hard for the viewer's mind to stay out of the mental discussion. But that series never forgets that there's an antagonist who needs to be put down, and a protagonist who needs to do so. A little more focus have made Neon Genesis Evangelion the end-all-be-all of giant-robot anime. As it is, it's a series of worthwhile thoughts and moments that doesn't amount to much in the end. And the way it treats its loyal fans by the end of it all, building up so much suspense and shattering it with an unsatisfying ending, is certainly infuriating. But if I may counter its amateur philosophising with a life-view of my own, I still think Neon Genesis Evangelion was worth putting onto this Earth. As long as it leaves us even with nothing but those thoughts and moments, it's certainly a worthwhile product, no?

*Cast listings refer to the original series. Certain characters have been re-cast for different adaptations, such as the Rebuild movies.

Positives:
+ The Eva/Angel fight scenes are beautifully animated.
+ Brilliant artistic design and scene direction.
+ The voice acting, both in Japanese and English, is some of the best to have been recorded before the new millennium.
+ It makes an effort to explore the mindsets of its characters.

Negatives:
- The non-action scenes suffer a severe shortfall in terms of the animation budget.
- The final two episodes take all the plot the show has built up to that point, and throw it out the window.

Acting (English): 5 Angels out of 5
Acting (Japanese): 4 Angels out of 5
Writing: 3 Angels out of 5
Animation: 3 Angels out of 5
Visual Design: 5 Angels out of 5
The Call: 90% (A-)