Shameful Otaku Secret!

Hey guys. Been pretty busy lately, trying to steadily pump out posts but after seeing this recentAsk John(thx owen), I remembered I had a post I’ve sitting on since winter, in which I talked about Ga-Rei Zero. Short story is, I dug it.

Well, the holidays got me sick. Not fun. But being bed-ridden was a great excuse to do my first legit series marathon in a very long time. I chose the supernatural action thriller Ga-Rei Zero. There may be minor spoilers, but considering the bulk of the story is laid out within a couple episodes, there’s not a lot to spoil in this series.

Story

Ga-Rei Zero is the origin story of the Ga-Rei manga, showing the path a young girl named Kagura took to become a powerful exorcist in a world full of demons and government “spiritual defense” organizations. Told mostly in flashback, Zero recounts the love she shared for 3 years with her surrogate sister Yomi.

There’s not much way to talk about this series without talking about the bizarre beginning: The non-traditional structure is a make-or-break point for Zero. By starting somewhere near the end, telling in flashback, then finally joining the two ends, writer Katsuhiko Takayama (also series writer for ef) constructed a horrible ode to inevitability that anime doesn’t deal in often, and some people just aren’t gonna go for. I can think of a live-action parallel: In Scorsese’s Casino, Robert De Niro’s character dies in a firey car bomb in the first couple minutes. The ensuing movie is entirely a flashback, and three hours later you remember: oh, yeah. He dies. Ga-Rei Zero takes an even more desperately depressing approach. Scorsese aimed to shock you with your forgetfulness, but this series constantly twists the knife to remind you what awaits.

On a superficial level of motorcycles, government demon-fighting teams, heroes-turned-bad, and depressive mood, Zero strongly resembles Blassreiter. It has a few key traits that separate it, though: half length, devotion to standard anime-“isms,” superior animation, and more personal themes of love and individual destiny versus Blassreiter’s focus on faith and duty.

Characters

I really wish Kagura were a more interesting character, but in truth that goes for most of the characters of G-RZ. Rather than a complex collection of emotions, they often feel like they’re just a product of the things that happen to them throughout the series — can you honestly say there are many people out there who wouldn’t have taken Yomi’s route, given the absolute emotional and spiritual pummeling she suffers?

That said, their generic qualities might serve to make them more sympathetic (same question applies here), and as the climax approaches, it’s hard not to feel for Kagura and, to a degree, Yomi’s erstwhile fiancé Noriyuki.

Technical

There isn’t a whole lot to say here. Nothing animation-wise, or audio-wise, went over-the-top for execution, but it’s appealing and more than solid the whole time. Character designs and overall style project a Production IG vibe, but maybe that’s just because Kagura = Saaya (Blood+) to some degree in my mind and it colored everything else. Fight scenes are well-directed and there’s no slippage in the high quality over 12 episodes.

Themes

Amidst all the standard anime junk — dead mothers and distant fathers, swordfighters in seifuku (not complaining), a world of improbable science-meets-magic — Zero manages to raise some interesting points. It’s really too bad that it spends a lot of time broadcasting those points through viewer proxies, dramatic monologues, and its lovely Engrishy tagline, “Would you kill someone you love, because of love?” Not that I expect the average anime to stop holding its viewers’ hands, but Ga-Rei Zero teased that it was going to give me lots to chew on, then took that away by outright verbalizing almost all of it.

While the show really wants us to ponder the question of whether Yomi overcame the Stone’s power or it just granted her true wish, what’s the difference? Either way, love tragically triumphs over greed and revenge, not that it helps anything. In hindsight, it’s kinda like the Haibane Renmei question of intent, except with damnation in place of salvation as the end result.

The Y Word

If you’ve read anything on blogs about Ga-Rei Zero, you’ve probably heard the word yuri tossed around a few times. In fact, ANN’s page lists “yuri” as the only theme. Glad I wasn’t watching it for that, or the other themes of “senseless suffering,” “inevitable tragedy,” and “sweet swordfighting” would have really distracted me.

But you can feel the sisterly love, and it really has to be ramped up for the horrific result to be felt. In the end, out of 4 hours of series there are about 30 seconds worth of anything that could be called yuri. There is one mouth-to-mouth kiss (a sort of Lady and the Tramp thing with Pocky), but that scene is there for a reason: it’s paralleled later, with horribly sad (if slightly overplayed) results.

So don’t watch this for yuri anymore than you’d watch it for guro — there’s enough blood, bathing, and shortness of skirts to cover your perverted needs, but it’s just not that kind of show. You’d have to be pretty depraved to get your jollies from something so damn depressing.

Bottom Line

Ga-Rei Zero caught me with its surprises in the first couple episodes, but after those were over, it continued to entertain and satisfy with good animation, cute girls with swords, and my ultimate anime fanservice, ludicrous tragedy (geez, maybe I am an extremist after all, clearly some people are not up for that and I guess I can’t blame them).

1990s OVAs full of tits, blood and total apocalypse fed my early fandom, and while this isn’t strictly an update to that it does provide the same kinds of thrills with a little more depth, a lot more heart, and a modern edge. Plus, it’s a lot better than Mnemosyne. Take its 12-episode length into account, and it’s hard for me not to recommend Ga-Rei Zero to anyone who likes their anime dark, action-heavy, and depressing.

I’m not sure what first gave me the idea to watch it, but it became apparent almost immediately that it was a good idea. Everyone I talked to seemed suddenly seized by a compulsion to rewatch at least some episodes (in ghostlightning’s case, the whole damn thing in 2 days). No one seemed to have so much as a caveat for me, let alone actual misgivings.

I’m not going to go too much into why it’s made of awesome and win — many have seen it, plenty of blogs praise it even if they don’t agree on the methods, and most people already know lots about JC Staff’s occasionally brilliant skills of execution that can make something as rote as Hatsukoi Limited into a winner and something well written into animated gold. The true strength of Honey & Clover is not its humor, underplayed dramatic moments, or unwillingness to insultingly explain key points to you out loud; it’s the writing, plain and simple. As a fan you’ve probably spent at least a little time justifying why anime isn’t kids’ stuff, but you’re often repaid by archetyped characters bouncing around a high school and crying a lot. Honey & Clover is your true reward. Even the theme that I most wanted to talk about is a little more “mature” than what you normally see: That’s letting go, one of the series’ many central threads that runs throughout. I’m picking ONE because apparently I can write almost 2,000 words about it, so to take on the whole thing would be extreme fucking insanity.

Something atypical for me: I try to leave them out normally, but there will probably be big spoilers.

(more…)

I hate starting posts like this. It’s much easier to begin a post if you’re in the midst of a series, but a roundup, or review, always feels like it needs to be couched in some kind of context or background. I don’t have much to offer in that respect.

Three things, I guess:

1. Haibane Renmei is a series that was recommended a few times. I couldn’t remember by whom, so I checked MAL to jog my memory: turns out 16 of my MAL friends have seen it: for some reason CCY did not rate it, and lelangir called it a 7 by virtue of the fact that it was not Gunbuster (understandable), and the rest were in the 8-10 range. I realize MAL is a severely unscientific research tool, but it does give me a pretty good impression of people’s thoughts. Also, I do remember that coburn and TheBigN were the biggest proponents, although others call it a 10.
2. I watched it too friggin’ fast to do any mid-series posts.
3. I’m trying in vain to translate that little lump in my throat into an appropriate post.

So I’m not sure where to begin, but let me say this: my overall impression is that Haibane doesn’t play out like one anime… more like three. They don’t have hard demarcations, instead they flow seamlessly into one another. But if you took say, episode 2, episode 7, and episode 11, they would each feel like they could have come from a different series.

First, there’s the introduction. This lasts fully half the series or so, and it gives off a decidedly un-ABe-like vibe (if you’ve seen Serial Experiments Lain and/or Texhnolyze you know what I mean). We, the viewers, get to see the town of Glie through new and wondrous eyes — Rakka’s eyes. The beginning of her journey is painful. She’s born lonely into the world, devoid of her memories, and her own body becomes a foreign thing as she’s transformed into a winged angelic Haibane. But others who’ve been through this shelter her, and the residents of Glie are lovely people, so she’s surrounded by love. In this way, it’s very Aria-like. And like Aqua, Glie is a unique location because it’s almost ridiculously mundane in its day-to-day life but fantastic for the simple fact that it exists. As Rakka fits into this world, there is little to no plot development to speak of, just a wide-eyed sense of wonderment and discovery, and Aria’s same simple magic that leaves you smiling.

But Haibane is a creeper. As suteki~ as that first part is, the second arc is equally crushing. Things change, Rakka enters a deep crisis of faith and personality, and like any good fictional hero, must overcome this. Unfortunately, it’s pretty hard to talk about it, or the third arc, without giving away the farm, and the unexpected way in which the story unfolds — though never jarring, always kind of morphing — is one of the series’ strong points.

One of the unexpected turns (if not quite a twist) is like Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann’s most masterful one: it turns out the series isn’t actually about who you think it’s about. Well… it is and it isn’t. But let’s say Haibane Renmei has two fantastic characters in Rakka and Reki, the oneesama-type character who takes selfless care of her fellow Haibane. It’s an interesting proposition, the idea that all the characters are half-lives whose more putty-like years were spent in a world (presumably ours, but maybe not) that they can no longer remember. That means that they get a fresh start, so the things weighing down Reki’s mind are particularly powerful, and Rakka quickly learns that life in Glie can be an easy stroll or the world’s most pleasant prison depending on where you sit.

Haibane Renmei, according to Yoshitoshi ABe, is a religious story, although it doesn’t mirror or endorse any particular religion. The Haibane’s angel-like appearance probably serves no other purpose than to make this obvious (that and he probably liked drawing wings and halos).

If it doesn’t really tell the story of a god, then how is it religious? I suppose it’s because the central topics here are salvation and the nature of sin. The Haibane Renmei (communicator) tells of the circle of sin, a thought paradox that characters like Rakka and Reki become hopelessly trapped in. It’s heartbreaking because it’s a bit like original sin in that they carry it from their birth, and are powerless to stop it when they emerge naïvely from the cocoon. But salvation also comes whether they like it or not.

The assessment of sin and salvation goes something like this: Being deserving is not a matter of intent; intent only clouds the issue. That’s not how you’re saved.

No one is entirely devoid of sin. Even if you’re just selfishly trying to absolve yourself of sin, if you’re good at it, you become good in the process. I love that. In that way, it’s a lot more idealized then your average actual religion, but makes such beautiful sense. In the end, that anti-paradox becomes the fix for the first paradox, the circle of sin. Though much is lost along the way, Haibane Renmei leaves its viewers feeling saved.