Matt Cooper Anime, Films

Summer Wars (2009) by Mamoru Hosoda

OZ is a virtual online world where friends can gather and companies do business; connecting the global population in a vast virtual playground. As well as this it is also used for businesses, governments and other officials, forming a vital part of every aspect of human life. Kenji (Ryunosuke Kamiki) is a high-school maths whizz (almost national champion at the maths Olympics) working as a low level system engineer on the site, when he is offered an unusual summer job by an attractive older girl, Natsuki (Nanami Sakuraba): to come home with her for the holidays. When he arrives at her home, he finds that he is to pretend to be her boyfriend for the duration of the trip, to please Natsuki’s ailing grandmother (Sumiko Fuji). Soon Natsuki’s whole family has arrived at the house, including the suspicious Wabisuke (Ayumu Saito) who left years before for America. While Kenji struggles to maintain his cover and befriend the numerous aunts, uncles and cousins, OZ is attacked. This act of cyber-terrorism has far-reaching consequences as industry computers go haywire and satellites are set on a collision course for earth. Kenji and the family around him must work together to prevent a global catastrophe.

Directed by Mamoru Hosoda from a screenplay by Satoko Okudera (the two also worked together on “The Girl Who Leapt Through Time”, “Summer Wars” is an exciting blend of family drama and technological thriller, moving from scenes of the family at dinner to the virtual world of OZ, where avatars such as the semi-legendary King Kazuma, do battle. There is a lot of heart and comedy in the film, derived from situation and character rather than cheap gags, that makes you feel a strong connection with Natsuki’s family. Kenji is also a fun protagonist, completely out of his depth in social situations, but extremely competent with maths and computers. It is impressive to see such a large family portrayed and while we are not given much information about the members, the group scenes give a sense of the chaos of such gatherings, with them speaking over each other and numerous things going on around the table. The story throws in a lot of elements, and with this cast of characters it’s hard to get bored. OZ is an interesting portrayal of an online space, a sparse clean look populated by a variety of different avatars, although the actual workings of it are somewhat fantastical. The animation overall is excellent, with expressive character design and a detailed world. Akihiko Matsumoto’s score is entertaining, with a traditional countryside feel to the rural family home shifting to distinct digitalised tune for the online world.

“Summer Wars” offers an interesting take on the idea of a metaverse, a secondary online world which mimics and has become an integral part of human society. It points out the danger of putting everything in one space like this, with even the police and fire service working through the OZ system. The film’s central message concerns communication both online and offline, drawing a comparison between the online characters who can communicate in every language on the planet, and the more traditional family gathering. The primary importance of communication to human relations is a theme that the film drives home. The grandmother is able to rally numerous people to their cause through family and acquaintances, using the phone; while Natsuki is later supported by a large online community. The technology is simply a conduit for human connection, and should not be seen as a replacement for it. The central village being an AI also speaks to this idea that humanity must always remember themselves and what is important, rather than allowing technology to change our attitudes towards one another. If there is one complaint about the film it is that Kenji and Natsuki’s relationship is not really touched on much throughout, but there is so much going on that it is hardly surprising. An entertaining film that brings up a lot of ideas about how humans will relate to each other in online spaces and a warning not to forget that it is communication that builds strong societies.

Matt Cooper Anime, Films

Appleseed (2004) by Shinji Aramaki

The film opens on a young soldier Deunan Knute (Ai Kobayashi), fighting amongst the rubble of a bombed city. After a battle with robotic enemy forces she is picked up by ESWAT, an elite team of soldiers, who tell her she no longer needs to fight. The world war that has devastated the majority of the planet had no ultimate victor. The surviving humans have retreated to a Utopian city named Olympus. The population of Olympus, half human and half Bioroid (synthetic humans), live a peaceful existence, their lives dictated by a supercomputer named Gaia and the Bioroid leader Athena (Mami Koyama). Deunan is reunited with her old partner Briareos (Jurota Kosugi), who has lost his body and been given a new cyborg one and a Bioroid Hitomi (Yuki Matsuoka) who is assigned to help her adjust to Olympus. The peace is short-lived when they uncover a plot by the army, led by General Uranus (Yuzuru Fujimoto), to overthrow what he sees as a Bioroid dictatorship and establish human supremacy again. Deunan and Briareos must fight to maintain the delicate balance that has been established.

“Appleseed” is based on the manga by Masamune Shirow (Ghost in the Shell) and does an incredible job of world-building, introducing us to Bioroids, Gaia, ESWAT, Landmates and other technologies and systems that create a believable backdrop to the action. The design of all these elements is spectacular and there is clearly an attention to the minutiae and practicalities of everything. The animation uses a cell-shaded CG technique that gives the film a unique look and the flexibility of the camera allows us to swoop around the ruins of the city in the opening and the vast scale of Olympus in a way that gives a sense of reality and permanence to the setting. If there is one issue with this style it is that it leaves certain things looking too pristine, lacking texture and wear. Where the animation really excels is in the action sequences, from the opening battle with tanks and snipers, hand to hand brawls, gunfighting, and the final destructive battle, the choreography and camerawork enabled by the animation make for fast-paced exciting moments. Director Shinji Aramaki has an eye for dramatic action sequences, with the rain-battered remote laboratory sequences being a particular highlight. The music by Tetsuya Takahashi and Boom Boom Satellites is a mix of electronica, rock, and an occasional emotional piano track. The soundtrack suits the futuristic feel and is a shot of adrenaline for the frenetic action scenes. Deunan is a great protagonist, established as a legendary soldier, her relationship with Briareos and her backstory give her complexity and sympathy from the audience. There is not a lot of time spent on the relationship between her and Briareos as the plot involves a lot of exposition and the various twists and turns allow little time for character building, but those moments we do see work well and offer just enough to keep you emotionally invested.

“Appleseed” is laden with philosophical and political discourse, questioning the future of humanity as we become increasingly reliant on technology. The character of Deunan, a hardened soldier, is fitting for the narrative as she encapsulates the warlike nature of humanity, but also the compassion that can hold us back from violence. The tension at the centre of the film arises from General Uranus’s realisation that humans are no longer the dominant force on the planet and his desire to rectify what he sees as the natural order. Violent tendencies make humans unsuitable to rule without safeguards, as their past actions have shown that they seem hellbent on their own destruction. Far from technology being the danger, it is technology that protects humans from themselves. However, the lust for power and human failings continue even in the future and create problems that must be constantly guarded against. The film’s message is one of the importance of balance. It is interesting that early in the film Hitomi notes that the population of Olympus is roughly 50/50 Bioroid and humans. To have more of one or the other, as the villains of the film desire, would upset the balance of society. The strong anti-war message of the film is also stated obliquely in a similar way. The world war produced no victor, only losers. To compete for absolute dominance is a futile endeavour, and the only way humanity can proceed is by acknowledging the need for co-operation. A science-fiction action film with an important message on the future of humanity and how catastrophe might be averted.

Matt Cooper Films

Rubber’s Lover (1996) Shozin Fukui

In a secret laboratory a team of scientists are experimenting on humans in an attempt to produce psychic abilities. Their experiments take the form of a Digital Direct Drive, a machine that plugs directly into the brain, and uses ‘ether’ to provoke a psychological response. Given the unreliability of their current operations their experiments are often more a form of torture leading to death than viable scientific enquiry. Motomiya (Sosuke Saito) injects his rival scientist Shimika (Yota Kawase) with ether in an attempt to steal his research. He is helped by another scientist Hitotsubashi (Norimizu Ameya) and lab assistant Akari (Mika Kunihiro). Kiku (Nao), who is auditing the company’s books, comes downstairs to see what is happening and is raped by Motomiya, who seems to have gone insane. Motomiya soon regrets his decision as it seems the high dose of ether given to Shimika and his connection with the machine have created a monster that he cannot control.

“Rubber’s Lover”, written and directed by Shozin Fukui, is a prime example of the cyberpunk and splatter-horror genres. Drawing heavily on traditional horror – the mad scientist working on a creature – and melding it with an industrial aesthetic, it creates a nightmarish world of flesh and metal that is emblematic of the wider movement. Shot on 16mm, the black and white square aspect ratio induces a sense of claustrophobia with the chiaroscuro lighting obscuring and enhancing the special effects by helping to inflame the imagination. The film uses shots of industrial buildings, inexplicable metallic constructs looming against a pale sky, to create an atmosphere of harsh modernity. The sets are dressed to create a confused technophobic tangle of wires and screens, with the addition of some interesting ideas, such as the monitors showing close-ups of eyeballs, or the giant equipment for injecting ether (akin to a pneumatic drill). Shozin Fukui’s direction shows a flair for the genre, with camera angles carefully chosen to create a sense of unease, or to keep things fresh and engaging. There is also a clear desire to create backgrounds with a sense of movement or mesmerizing imagery, either by including flickering monitors, animals, or the large post-modern artworks on the wall of Kiku’s office. The soundtrack to the film, provided by Tanizaki Tetora, is a mix of industrial scrapes and echoes, seeming to evolve naturally from the visuals of pipes and machinery. Later it also includes tribal drums that serve as a reminder of the atavistic nature of humanity, despite technological advancement.

The plot of “Rubber’s Lover” includes many interesting elements. Firstly, the concept of human experimentation, something that is a mainstay of horror cinema, and may have dark echoes of Japan’s own past in relation to war time atrocities. The film leans heavily on the notion of experimentation as torture, going so far as to have one victim’s head explode after being pumped with ether. The film also has themes of drug-use and abuse, with Shimika becoming addicted to the ether as it appears to expand his mental capacity. Such discussions around drugs are far from the mainstream, but absolutely in keeping with the anti-conservative agenda of the film. This is a film that emphasises the ‘punk’ in cyberpunk, outrageous in its depictions and brutal in its conclusions about corruption and where society is heading.

Matt Cooper Anime, Films

Roujin Z (1991) by Hiroyuki Katakubo

Haruko is a student nurse working as a carer for the elderly, bed-bound and incontinent Takazawa. The government department in charge of looking after the aged members of society has developed a new machine, the Z-001, which it promises will revolutionise the care profession. The machine is a giant bed that includes television, telephone, games, and will wash, feed and clean the patient. It even has a special vacuum for dealing with toileting. The government remove Takazawa from his home and place him inside the prototype machine to test and promote its effectiveness. Haruko sets out with her friends to rescue Takazawa from the government’s clutches. However, things soon spiral out of control when the machine develops unknown capabilities.

“Roujin Z” was written by Katsuhiro Otomo (Akira) and shows many similarities with the director’s other works. This includes concepts of transhumanism, human-machine interfacing, and corrupt government departments that do not have the citizens best interests at heart. Director Hiroyuki Katakubo who worked with Otomo on Akira does a great job with the mix of tones in “Roujin Z”. The film leans heavily on the comedy and jokes, particularly early on, which helps get the audience onboard with the somewhat out-there premise. There is also a lot of action and the breakneck pace leaves little time for reflection. Once the plot kicks into gear there is barely time to consider as it moves from one action sequence to another, with helicopter chases and robot fights. Haruko is a sympathetic protagonist, the personification of the kindness and hardwork of the medical profession. The artwork and style includes some excellent backgrounds, packed with details and the robots are well-designed, stretching the concept of a sentient robotic bed to its limits.

This film is packed with ideas about the future of the medical profession, the problems associated with technological progress, the corruption inherent in corporations and the military. Haruko’s job is threatened by the emergence of this new technology, and the film raises concerns about what society loses by relying heavily on computers or robots, positing that such progress may lead to a diminishment of compassion and human contact. The treatment of the elderly is at the heart of the drama. Although there is comedy to be gained from Takazawa being tossed around by the robot, the complete lack of care shown to him by the head of the department for welfare shows a dark side to how society sidelines their elderly. There are more far reaching concepts such as how humanity is increasingly becoming tied up with technology. Takazawa becomes able to converse through the machine and likewise people are able to hack into this system. An excellent science-fiction film that touches on many important ideas concerning the future of humanity, with an action-packed script and lots of humour.

Matt Cooper Films

Pulse (2001) by Kiyoshi Kurosawa

Ryosuke Kawashima (Haruhiko Kato) has recently bought a computer to get connected to the Internet. When he turns it on he is taken to a peculiar and disturbing website that seems to show people sitting alone in rooms and a message asking if he would like to see a ghost. He asks at the university computer department if they have any idea what is happening. Computing teacher Harue Karasawa (Koyuki) attempts to help him. Another student tells him that there is a theory that the spirits of the dead, having becoming too numerous, have begun to pass over into the world of the living. In a parallel story, Michi (Kumiko Aso), an employee at a flower shop, is also made aware of this unusual phenomenon when she goes to find their co-worker who has been missing for several days. The appearance of these figures, both on computers screens, and in the world, grow increasingly frequent and events threaten to overwhelm those involved.

Written and directed by Kiyoshi Kurosawa, “Pulse” takes inspiration from traditional ghost stories. Many of the scares in the film revolve around eerie happenings, such as dark figures appearing or disappearing suddenly. The music by Takefumi Haketa is disturbing, representing the howls of disturbed spirits. The sets used also give the impression of an old-fashioned ghost story, with abandoned buildings, and even a laboratory packed with various leads and devices. “Pulse” transposes these elements onto the modern world of computers and the internet, using techniques such as image manipulation and the idea that the screen may not be as much of a barrier as people think.

The film underscores its ghost story thrills with a deeply disturbing sub-strata of existential angst and fear of isolation. The concept of the Internet as a tool to connect individuals, but which will actually result in them becoming ever more distant from one another is interesting. Throughout the film there is a clear separation between the living and the dead. Kawashima is a young man who utterly rejects the notion of ghosts. He is forced through these occurrences to confront his fear of death. The character of Harue fears being left alone. The finale of the film is unexpected, bringing the story full circle to the opening narration, and making us question our assumptions of what has gone before. There is discussion in the film about the difference between life and death, about the imperceptible line between the two. Enough space is left for interpretation although as with much of the film it seems to be more about thematic exploration that any literal interpretation of events.