Category: Monthly Movies

Posted on in anime, Monthly Movies, Reviews

Magic Planet Monthly Movies: Half The Battle is Being There in POKÉMON THE MOVIE: I CHOOSE YOU!

This review contains spoilers for the reviewed material. This is your only warning.

This review was commissioned. That means I was paid to watch and review the series in question and give my honest thoughts on it. You can learn about my commission policies and how to buy commissions of your own here. This review was commissioned by Rakhshi. Thank you for your support.

A Small Note: Because Pokémon is in the rare position of being an anime where the English localized names are more well-known–at least to my Anglophone audience–than the JP originals, I have largely used them here, crediting some major characters with both, divided by a slash mark where applicable.

Pokémon is a cultural phenomenon with rare company, comparable in terms of pure success and footprint to, quite literally, no other Japanese series. It is such a global phenomenon that it stands far removed from other anime or games, and comparing it to them makes little sense. You have to turn to other media, toward juggernauts like Star Wars or the MCU, to see similar impact on the world of pop culture.

I’ve never written about Pokémon on this blog before. Not for any particularly strong reason, really. It’s just felt a little…unnecessary? What does anyone have to say, really, about Pokémon? If I had been approached to review the first Pokémon film, I’d have declined. Some works of popular culture are so thoroughly absorbed into the fabric of the times that reviewing them is like trying to review Shakespeare. No other series I will ever cover on this blog is known so widely to so many people.

With that in mind, it is a shame that the specific iteration of said series I am reviewing today feels so minor.

Pokémon the Movie: I Choose You!, the franchise’s banner movie for its anime’s 20th anniversary, is not a direct adaption of any of the widely beloved games. It is not, either, directly related to said TV anime, which has run without any major interruptions in both its original language and in many, many dubbed forms since 1997. It is directed by series stalwart Kunihiko Yuyama, who has done almost nothing else but direct various Pokémon projects since then as well. (With apologies to fans of Wedding Peach, and, uh, Minky Momo.) But while his directorial eye, going by this film, is as sharp as it was in ’97, he’s using it to tell a different story here. (Likewise, as you might guess, it’s animated by OLM.)

I Choose You! is an alternate continuity of sorts. Based on the TV anime, but with other elements from later generations of the games blended in. The idea is pretty simple; in theory, you’re making a fresh, original take on something people already love. This has a lot of precedent in anime, and it’s part of how things like Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood happen. But if I Choose You! was meant to draw new people into the Pokémon ecosystem, it is woefully unfit for the task.

If we wanted to look at it cynically, we could call I Choose You! an excuse for a parade of references to and evocations of prior Pokémon media. The vast majority of these are from the original anime, and most are beat-for-beat recreations of certain plot points from early in its run. There’s the introduction where protagonist Ash Ketchum / Satoshi (Sarah Natochenny / Rica Matsumoto) oversleeps and gets an unruly Pikachu (Kate Bristol / Ikue Ohtani) as his partner, the escape from the flock of Spearow that he accidentally aggravates early on, Ash sighting a Ho-oh in the sky after beginning his journey, finding a Charmander abandoned by its previous owner in the rain, his Butterfree departing to find a mate. ETC.

We’ll get to some of the shortcomings of this approach momentarily, but, to dial back the grumpy-old-woman-ism for a moment, it is at least a pretty solid effort. The first season of the anime was hardly bad looking, but the updated scenes here do look nice as well. Even if the iffy blending of the 2D and 3D animation dates the film even now, just five years after its release.

Where things begin to become muddled is the film’s original plot, which forms about 2/3rds of its runtime. In the original anime, when Ash saw Ho-oh, it was a mysterious and tantalizing glance at a world beyond the Kanto region and beyond the original 151 Pokémon. Here, it serves to kick off the story, and because we’ve long known what Ho-oh is, it feels substantially less special despite the film’s efforts to sell it as otherwise. The legendary bird bestows a (or rather, The) Rainbow Feather upon Ash. This apparently makes him a hero. The Rainbow Hero. And entitles him to meet Ho-oh at some point down the line. And also maybe means he’s the chosen one or something.

If this seems rather vague, it feels so in the film as well. An issue here is that there are actually multiple plots, of which this whole journey to find Ho-oh is just one. Another revolves around Charmander’s original trainer, Cross (a character made for the film, voiced by Billy Bob Thompson in English and Ryōta Ōsaka in Japanese.) Cross is in the typical mold of the “trainer who values raw strength over ideas like the power of friendship and properly bonding with your Pokémon.” He is much like Gary (who he rather strongly resembles aside from his truly absurd crossed bangs.) Or Paul. Or any number of similar characters that have populated the franchise over the years. It’s a solid, homegrown archetype. And true enough, it is very easy to dislike Cross here, but he never really does much other than beat Ash in battle and insult him a bunch.

And if you’re prepared to hold abandoning his Charmander against him, the film is not on your side there, as he and Ash reconcile at I Choose You!‘s conclusion without much fanfare, and he’s shown to have truly bonded to his main Pokémon, a Midnight-form Lycanroc. (Said Lycanroc is, puzzlingly, one of just two Alolan Pokémon in the film, despite it being made during the Gen VII era.)

And in conjunction with these two stories, there is also the issue of Marshadow, a Gen VII mythic Pokémon. The film was presumably intended at least in part to promote it, but despite this, Marshadow’s plot is the least developed of all of these. It follows Ash around, inflicts a bizarre nightmare of a world without Pokémon (imagine that) on him, and does other generally “Ghost Pokémon-y” things, but its motives are never established beyond very vague terms as some kind of spiritual counterpart to Ho-oh, and it simply disappears at the film’s end.

Combined, these three plots make the film pretty darn incoherent. It holds up just fine on a moment-to-moment basis. As mentioned, I Choose You! looks quite good and is competently directed and such, but it has a real identity problem. It wants to be a retelling of the first season, but it also wants to be fresh, so it brings in new characters like Verity / Makoto (Suzy Myers / Shiori Sato) and Sorrel (David Oliver Nelson / Kanata Hongō) as substitutes for Brock and Misty.

It wants to actively tug on your nostalgia strings, so as aforementioned it recreates some scenes from the first season of the anime verbatim. But it also needs to promote Marshadow, so that’s in there too. On the whole, the film feels decidedly random, more like a long, glossed-up episode of the TV anime itself than a proper movie. It never quite seems to know what it wants to focus on, so it ends up focusing on nothing.

And even some of that randomness isn’t borne out well. Verity, for instance, seems like she’s going to get a proper subplot about some issue she has with her mother (who looks an awful lot like Sinnoh champion Cynthia), which would at least be something. But this development is quietly dropped until the very end of the film, where she simply offhandedly mentions that she feels like visiting home for the first time in a while, resolving that particular subplot in an unceremonious finger snap. Likewise, Sorrel’s only real depth is brought in when he abruptly brings up a depressing anecdote about how his childhood Luxray wrapped around him to save him from the cold when he was lost in a blizzard, only to die in the process. This is used to illustrate a vague point about how sometimes “departing with Pokémon” is necessary, and is meant to foreshadow Ash’s Butterfree departing. But these are wildly different situations, and the film’s attempt to draw parallels between them is just one instance of its broad, scattershot plotting making the entire thing feel strangely half-baked.

Overall, I Choose You! relies heavily on the viewer having already very much “bought in” to Pokémon as a franchise, given the huge amount of pre-existing knowledge it attempts to cash in on to get you to care about any of this stuff. Consequently, it is totally unsuitable as anyone’s first introduction to the series. (If such a person exists, spare a thought for them.) What prevents it from totally failing as a project in a more general sense is that it is pretty good at nailing the very basic building blocks of “being a Pokémon movie.”

Anyone to whom the series’ quirks are more endearing than grating will probably be more forgiving than I’ve been here. And I must admit that while I was actively watching it, I was more caught up those basic building blocks. I enjoyed the small appearances from personal favorite Pokémon–Pinsir, Paris, and even a very brief cameo from the underrated Gen V Pokémon Gothitelle, among others–and the movie’s colorful visuals and solid fight choreography carry it enough to at the very least make it not a slog. It’s a brisk film and has the good sense to end around the 90-minute mark. (Pompo would be thrilled.) Its overall highlights? Likely the showdowns between Ash’s Charmeleon (and later Charizard, of course) and Cross’s Incineroar. I might also count Ash’s Marshadow-inflicted nightmare, which lends a nice bit of spooky, almost denpa energy to an otherwise fairly inconsequential run near the film’s middle.

I Choose You! is, thus, not a bad movie. But it does feel pretty pointless. I’ve never counted myself among the skeptical crowd with regard to Pokémon. I still play and enjoy the mainline games, and while I haven’t followed the TV anime regularly since I was a child, I will occasionally watch a stray episode or three, and am almost always delighted by them. But if one wanted to paint The Pokémon Company as nothing but a soulless machine that prints money on the back of, alternatingly, kid appeal designs and pure nostalgia-baiting, you could certainly pick worse places to start than here. I Choose You! feels like it exists for no reason beyond an imagined mandate for More Pokémon Stuff.

But it did, at least, get this fourth fork of major Pokémon continuities off the ground. As of 2022, when I’m writing this, 3 of the 4 most recent films in the Pokémon franchise were set there, the only exception being the all-CGI remake of Mewtwo Strikes Back. So, despite my complaints, it seems to have certainly found some sort of audience. Perhaps that’s all it was truly intended to do.

I can’t find it in myself to actually dislike this film. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s visually competent. Maybe it’s pure nostalgia. Maybe it’s both! Regardless, while I Choose You! is certainly not the highlight of the series, it is at least entertainingly nostalgic enough in spots. If that’s all you want out of Pokémon, the movie will suit you just fine. But it still feels frustratingly half-committed to its core idea of being a new take on the old Pokémon formula, so don’t expect anything more than that.

A second small note: Yes, this is the second “monthly” movies column to come out in March. The Yoyo to Nene review was supposed to come out in late February, but things happened. Y’all know how it is.

Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live. If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on Twitter and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directory to browse by category.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Monthly Movies, Reviews

Magic Planet Monthly Movies: The Magic was Inside You All Along in MAJOKKO SHIMAI NO YOYO TO NENE

This review contains spoilers for the reviewed material. This is your only warning.

This review was commissioned. That means I was paid to watch and review the series in question. You can learn about my commission policies and how to buy commissions of your own here. This review was commissioned by Josh, from The Mugcord Discord Server. Thank you for your support.

“Hoi!”

-Yoyo, too many times to count.

Just off the cuff, there are a number of interesting things about 2013’s Majokko Shimai no Yoyo to Nene. It was directed by Takayuki Hirao. If that name sounds familiar, it may be because he also directed the last film I was commissioned to review. This was during his time at ufotable, a powerhouse of a studio both then and now. Also notably, Yoyo to Nene is an isekai, dating from the period when the genre was just in the process of resurging and conquering the anime landscape. But conversely, it’s miles away from the modern isekai zeitgeist, being more reminiscent of the fantasy fairy tales that birthed the genre in the first place. (Or much more distantly, 90s iterations like The Vision of Escaflowne.)

You could also argue that it’s a magical girl story (the term is, in fact, used here.) Though if so, it’s based on a much older version of the “mahou shoujo” idea than what we usually see today, which tends to directly stem from the “magical warrior” archetype that was also seeing a resurgence around this time. All this, contrasted with its distinctly modern look and feel, makes Yoyo to Nene seem like a film unstuck in time. A fact that, along with its general defiance of easy genre labels, may contribute to its relative obscurity in the Anglosphere. But if so, it’s a shame, because while the film falls short of being truly essential, it is quite good, and it’s definitely worth watching.

But perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. Before delving into goods and bads it’s helpful to know what the film actually is. The very short version of the plot is thus; after a routine day on the job of battling giant monsters, our titular protagonist Yoyo (Sumire Morohoshi, who has kept busy in the years since. In 2020 she was Michiru in Brand New Animal.) and her sister Nene (Ai Kakuma, also still in the industry. She’s even worked with Hirao again since, playing Mystia in Pompo: The Cinéphile.) are called upon to investigate the sudden emergence of a curious structure in the magical forest where they make their home. (To our eyes, it’s quite obviously a modern high-rise apartment building.) Inside, Yoyo becomes stuck in an elevator, which as it turns out, is secretly a portal to other worlds. As such, she’s promptly spirited away to another universe. Namely, our own. Also tagging along is her adorable….cat? Bihaku (Shouko Nakagawa, an idol and second-generation celebrity who seems to occasionally do roles like this. She’d later play Diana in Sailor Moon Crystal.)

In this apartment building, she meets Takahiro (Miyuki Sawashiro, who we’ve met in this column before. You may know her as the modern Fujiko Mine.), his largely unimportant-to-the-plot brother Takeo (Takahiro Sakurai, who this very season is playing Despa in Ousama Ranking and the protagonist, Burton, in Ninjala. And that’s just shows I’ve personally seen!), and their young cousin, the downright adorable–and much more plot-relevant, she gets a nice turn near the finale–Aki (Rio Sasaki, whose brief seiyuu career started here and never got much farther. As of last year, she’s only ever played two other named roles, with Emery Almond in Fafner Exodus being the more prominent of them.) She learns that Takahiro and Takeo’s parents are under the effects of a curse that’s turned them into grotesque slime monsters. Yoyo, as a proud curse-breaker and general magic problem-solver, is determined to uncover what’s hexed the Tak Twins’ parents, and in the process, free them from perpetual oozedom.

We eventually learn it’s because of a magic gacha game that grants wishes, of all things, but the real meat of Yoyo to Nene comes mostly from Yoyo herself. She’s an enrapturing little ball of pixie dust who brightens up the screen every second she’s on it. Making her the focal point of the film was a very wise choice indeed. (I’m not sure if she’s equally important in the manga that Yoyo to Nene is loosely based on, it’s never been available in English in any capacity.) Yoyo’s magic translates directly to movie magic; she’s the source, directly or indirectly, of many of the film’s visual highlights, and has a cute habit of capping her spells with a small exclamation of “Hoi!”

Much of the film’s emotional thrust comes from her interactions with other characters. She and Takahiro eventually develop a close bond (which the movie is smart enough to never explicitly frame as romantic) but getting there is another story entirely. She’s initially quite dismissive of him, and it’s only through the power of Anime Bonding Moments such as learning how to make instant yakisoba with no magic allowed that they come to understand each other.

She gets along more readily with Aki, who she charms with the film’s sole musical number about a third of the way through its runtime.

But in addition to these bonds, Yoyo has a more flawed and slightly darker side, which intuitively fits with her “witch” characterization and makes her more compelling than if she were wholly innocent.

Later in the film, the curse begins affecting more than just individual people, and assaults whole buildings and even whole parts of cities. When it bears down on a festival the three are attending, Yoyo is shown to be a bit callous toward the idea of Aki possibly being injured. There is an idea here that Yoyo–and perhaps residents of her native Magic Kingdom in general–do not truly understand the value of life and death. When Takahiro gets angry with her for not protecting Aki–noting that she got hurt, and far worse could’ve happened–Yoyo doesn’t really seem to get why he’s mad, suggesting that as long as the body’s intact, even raising her from the dead wouldn’t be a big deal. Indeed, earlier on, we’re shown a scene where exactly that happens to minor character Nils back in the Magic Kingdom, establishing this as being as much a societal flaw as a personal one.

Yoyo changes her tune when Bihaku is injured later that same night, and in easily the scene’s darkest film it seems like he might pass away entirely. Thankfully he eventually turns out to be fine, but the shock is enough to impart the lesson to Yoyo.

There is a question that’s natural to raise here, though. What, exactly, is Yoyo to Nene trying to say with scenes like this? There are a few in the film, although that’s the most prominent. The whole magic gacha game plot raises similar questions. Its resolution is fairly convoluted and involves both Aki’s father, the game’s lead developer, and her departed mother, who turns out to also have been an isekai’d transplant from the Magic Kingdom. On this level, Yoyo to Nene does break down; it seems to reach for a universal applicability, but doesn’t properly grasp it, leaving it feeling thematically confused.

There’s a sliver of light commentary in near the film’s very end, about how Aki’s mother wanted to use her magic for the good of the world, but people are selfish, so it’s become corrupt. There’s enough of a coherent thought there that when Yoyo finishes out the movie by absorbing magic from people making selfless wishes, it makes some internal logical sense, but all in all, the film, especially in the latter half, only just stays on the right side of “coherent.” Most of this is fairly broad “power of human connection” stuff, a thing many other anime have done better and more compellingly. But of course, many others have done it far worse as well. (You could also read some environmentalist messaging in here somewhere, perhaps, but you’d really have to squint.)

So, thematically it’s a bit broad and wishy-washy. And the film convolves and convolutes its own rules often enough to only just barely make sense. This is enough to raise the question of if it’s even a “good movie” at all, but I’d argue it still very much is. For whatever else it may misfire on, Yoyo to Nene succeeds on an emotional gut-check level, arguably the most important facet for any anime to nail, especially one that’s not even two hours long. It is, of course, also quite the spectacle, which certainly helps. It’s possible that if the movie looked and sounded worse, I’d be less forgiving, but–and I rarely mention this in positive reviews, though it’s true here as well–you review the art you have in front of you, not one that you can imagine existing.

On its own terms, Yoyo to Nene is an entirely worthy film. Most involved have gone on to do more notable things, but I do think the movie’s comparative obscurity in the West is a shame. By the end, in spite of any issues, I found myself happily grinning. More than any of its actual stabs at a theme, the film’s real strength is the sheer warmth it radiates. And in that sense, I think its closest cousins may less be any other isekai, and more work that centers on that same feeling of simple joy. Little Witch Academia and Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! spring to mind as somewhat more recent examples.

At the end of the day, the “sell” on Yoyo to Nene is very simple. If magic makes people smile, well, that’s all that really matters, isn’t it? Yoyo to Nene brings smiles by the dozen, what else can you ask for?

Like what you’re reading? Consider following Magic Planet Anime to get notified when new articles go live. If you’d like to talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers, consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on Twitter and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directory to browse by category.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Monthly Movies, Reviews

Magic Planet Monthly Movies: From Reel to Real in POMPO: THE CINÉPHILE

This review contains spoilers for the reviewed material. This is your only warning.

This review was commissioned. That means I was paid to watch and review the series in question. You can learn about my commission policies and how to buy commissions of your own here. This review was commissioned by The Mugcord Discord Server. Thank you for your support.

Who are movies made for?

The pop media machine is, by all accounts, an absolutely insane thing to spend your life involved with. Across all media, all over the world, the roiling mass that is the entertainment industry stamps out new books, albums, television shows, and, of course, movies. This complex, if working in its most cynical mode, can produce truly horrible works of profound soullessness. At its best, though, it can allow work that is beautiful, brilliant, and life-affirming to reach a mass audience. Pompo: The Cinéphile, the first theatrical release from Studio CLAP, is neither of these things, but it’s closer to the latter than the former. Being a movie about movies, that’s a good thing.

Pompo is a complicated and sometimes frustrating film, not a rare thing for art about art. It clearly has its heart in the right place, but there are a few key issues that prevent it from really rising to the level it clearly aspires to.

But before we examine Pompo in detail to hash out why that’s so, it would perhaps be best to take the measure of our cast. Starting with Pompo herself.

The eponymous Joelle D. “Pompo” Pomponette (Konomi Kohara, probably best known to readers of this blog as either Cure Milky from Star Twinkle Precure or Chika Fujiwara from Kaguya-sama: Love is War!) is not actually the main character of Pompo: The Cinéphile, but she is important. A filmmaking prodigy superproducer, Pompo has, at the time our story begins, funded a string of extremely cheesy but highly profitable B-Movies after being bequeathed a fortune from her grandfather, who is also a (retired) film producer. Pompo is a mercurial little ball of fairy dust, and she’s quite endearing.

Her movies seem pretty great.

She also has an intern / sort-of apprentice, Gene Fini (Hiroya Shimizu, in his first major anime role), who serves as our real main character. Gene, who looks like the concept of sleep deprivation given human form, serves as an embodiment of all of Pompo‘s big ideas about the purpose and nature of human artistic achievement.

Rounding this out is our secondary lead, Natalie Woodward (Rinka Ootani, also in her first major VA role), an aspiring actress who Pompo sees some potential in, and who eventually becomes the subject of a script she writes. She gets probably the least screentime of all the major characters, which is a bit of a shame, because her can-do attitude is charming. Importantly, she’s also taken under the wing of Mystia, a veteran actress (Ai Kakuma, who, among a number of other roles, was Aki-sensei in last year’s Sonny Boy).

The script written for her is quite important. Pompo pens it with Natalie and a retired, world-famous actor, one Martin Braddock (industry legend Akio Ōtsuka) in mind. She doesn’t want to direct this film, though. That falls to Gene.

All of these characters are fun, including Gene, who avoids most of the pitfalls associated with being a slightly dull male lead. He falls backwards into directing a huge movie and initially he is left wondering why, exactly, he’s agreeing to all this. But subtle-unsubtle tricks like his pondering who–if he had to pick one person–he would shoot the move for, and the scene going out of focus except for Pompo in the background, better explain his feelings than he himself can.

But yes, this script of Pompo’s forms the film-within-a-film Meister, about a disaffected, jaded former musician regaining his love for music after he meets a young girl in Switzerland. The shooting of Meister, consequently, is the backbone of Pompo‘s plot. There isn’t much in the way of traditional conflict in this part of the film, as Gene’s struggle to form his own directorial vision takes up the bulk of the screentime. This treats us to engaging details that draw attention to the serendipitous side of the filmmaking process. Say, one of Meister‘s scenes changing mid-shoot because a fog bank rolls in, or the cast collectively coming up with an entire extra scene in order to take advantage of a chance rainstorm.

This is all visually lovely too, and Pompo deserves serious credit for its utterly gorgeous backgrounds, which really capture the serene majesty of the Swiss alps. Or, both earlier and later in the film, the hustle and bustle of Hollywood. (Sorry, “Nyallywood.”)

Indeed, speaking purely from the visual angle, Pompo is downright fantastic. It’s edited like a whirlwind and is just about allergic to regular scene transitions, subbing in unusual ones whenever it can. (It’s particularly fond of a three-part punch-in effect, which frames both the departing and arriving scene in interesting fashion.) Very little of Pompo is content to frame a shot simply. Not when there’s some unusual, stylish angle it can use instead.

There are also some cool scene tricks, my personal favorite being the way it sometimes frames a character reflecting on a conversation as said conversation playing out on a film screen while the character “watches” the memory. A motif of film reels, both literal and symbolic, also runs through movie, giving it an extra bit of visual continuity. Similarly, characters’ eyes literally glow when they’re displaying passion or raw talent.

Despite the film’s own focus on live action material, there is also the feel of a great anime film here, too. The animation is highly expressive, with Pompo herself getting a lot of the best cuts. She will literally bounce into a room, inflate like a balloon when complaining about how movies over 90 minutes are “bloated,” and her Play-Doh ball of a face gives us the movie’s best expressions.

Once we move away from production strengths though, things get more complicated. The characters and visual style are great, and it’s because of the film’s brisk pace none of that wears out its welcome. But we at some point need to discuss what Pompo: The Cinéphile is actually about, and it’s here that things get a little dicey.

You see, Gene’s movie eventually runs into production issues because of Gene himself. He spends weeks editing it but just can’t seem to make it his own. (This, as Pompo itself points out, is why directors rarely edit their own movies.) Eventually, he decides that he needs to shoot an additional scene. Pompo is not happy about this! An additional scene this far after shooting has wrapped is a huge undertaking. She rightly raises the objection that it requires a lot of expense, it requires getting the cast and crew back together, and so on. Gene is undeterred, and Pompo eventually caves, causing the movie to miss an initial premiere. In turn, this causes a number of important financial backers to withdraw their support.

This problem is eventually rectified by the intervention of minor character Alan Gardner (Ryuuichi Kijima, active in the industry since 2007, and for whom playing roles like this seems to be a recurring thing) who convinces the massive bank he works for to finance the movie. It’s a truly ridiculous sequence of events that involves, among other things, giving a financial presentation while secretly livestreaming said presentation, his own efforts to interview Meister‘s entire cast and crew, and also-secretly setting up a Kickstarter for all of this.

It’s ridiculous, and if it involved anything but a bunch of bankers, I’d probably like it a bit more for that very reason. I do still respect the sheer audacity of dropping this into your movie about why movies are important, but it does not fit at all.

When all this financing (complete with a documentary on the making of the film!) is still not enough, Gene ends up in the hospital from overwork, and it’s here where Pompo truly hits a wall. Overwork is an utterly massive problem in the entertainment industry, especially the anime industry. While I have no reason to believe that Studio CLAP is guilty of the same practices as some of its contemporaries simply because it’s an anime studio, the result of this whole development being Gene ripping out his IV and dragging himself back to the editing room with everyone’s only-slightly-reluctant support just scans as a little weird. And maybe more than a little tone-deaf. It’s even weirder when Gene starts ranting about the things he’s sacrificed to make his great film. In a scene that is supposed to be uplifting, it instead feels like the ravings of someone who desperately needs to be pulled away from his work for a while.

This is all even odder when considering Meister. In that film-within-a-film, that very same stepping away is what allows the main character, Dalbert, to regain his own love of music. Indeed, he rediscovers a love of life itself in the mountains of Switzerland when he meets Lily (Natalie’s character). Gene has no comparable experience, because he’s new to the industry, and by his own admission, his life has been rather uneventful.

Gene and Dalbert are not similar characters, despite the film’s heavy-handed attempts to conflate them. It’s a truly strange note for an otherwise good movie to stake its emotional climax on, and it doesn’t do much to convey the film’s intended thesis of art as a universal conduit for human empathy and resonance. Consequently, when the final scene hits and Meister sweeps the “Nyacademy Awards,” it comes across as masturbatory and unearned.

All of this leaves Pompo as, frankly, a mess, in thematic terms. Beginning with some weirdly cynical moralizing earlier in the film about how happy people are less creative and peaking with that fictional Oscar-sweep at its end. It almost makes Pompo seem like the victim of the very same conceptually fuzzy editing-room chop-jobbery that its final act depicts. Maybe it was! It’s hard to know.

Comparing the film with its source material, the still ongoing Pompo: The Cinéphile manga, raises another possibility. One gets the sense that director Takayuki Hirao may have wanted to tell a more grandiose story than the one that the comparatively modest and more comedic manga presents. If so, this may be a simple case of a director being a poor match for the source material. It is possible to build a gripping story out of the rough struggle to make art that truly expresses oneself. But Pompo is not that story. Trying to force it to be such drags the film’s final act down quite a bit.

Does all this ruin the film? No, because it remains an engaging watch throughout on its production merits and because the characters are fun to keep up with. (Even at its very end, it pulls off the cute trick of itself sticking to Pompo’s 90 minute rule. Not counting credits, the film is exactly 90 minutes long.)

So, Pompo: The Cinéphile remains a perfectly enjoyable flick in spite of its issues. And I’m excited to see what Hirao will do in the future, if this is indicative of a visual style he intends to keep pursuing, especially if he’s given a more fitting story to work with. In general, this is a very promising start for CLAP, marking as it does their big international coming out party.

But all of this faffing about with the film’s message does kneecap Pompo as a coherent statement, firmly marking it as “just” a pretty good movie instead of a truly great one, which is a bit of a shame.

Still, there is a place for pretty good movies. As one, Pompo is certainly worthwhile. Don’t expect to add it to your classics shelf, but it’ll sit with the rest of your Blu-Ray collection just fine.

Wanna talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers? Consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on Twitter and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directory to browse by category.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Monthly Movies, Reviews, Uncategorized

Magic Planet Monthly Movies: Is There Life After Death for ALICE IN DEADLY SCHOOL?

This review contains spoilers for the reviewed material. This is your only warning.

When people talk about bonds, this is what they mean, isn’t it?

At just 40 minutes long, Alice in Deadly School only barely qualifies for this column, but I’m bending the rules for a reason here. Not a single thing about this OVA makes a lick of sense. In origin alone, it stands as a notable example of how odd the margins of the mainstream anime industry can get, stemming as it does from post-apoc idol show also-ran Gekidol (which, full disclosure, I haven’t seen). A friend called it the best anime of the year. Another absolutely hates it. It takes a truly special kind of anime to inspire strong feelings on both ends of the whatever-number-out-of-ten spectrum like that. And whatever else one may say about it, “special” is a word that describes Alice in Deadly School to a tee.

It tiptoes over the course of three or so different genres during its brief runtime, has a nowhereman visual style that, if you didn’t know, you could conceivably place anywhere from the past 20 years of mainstream anime, and is utterly fucking heartbreaking. I’ve tried to avoid using this phrase much over the course of the past year writing for this blog, as I was guilty of trotting it out too often in 2020, but the fact of the matter is that there just isn’t much like this.

Premisewise, at least, it has some ancestors. “Zombie outbreak at a high school” is not new ground for anime and manga; a cursory glance at anything from the infamous High School of the Dead to Dowman Sayman’s black comedy one shot “Girls’ Night Out of The Living Dead” will tell you that much. It’s hard to even argue that Alice in Deadly School brings much new to the table from this angle. Crossbreeding that particular premise with the girls’ club school-life genre has been done before too (see 2015’s SCHOOL-LIVE!). What Alice offers is lightning-electric resonance. Do you feel doomed every single day because of the relentless onslaught of soul-crushingly miserable news that permeates our lives, from the outrageously petty to the globally catastrophic? I have a pretty strong feeling that the people who made Alice do too.

The term “zombie” itself is never used–standard for the genre these days–but it’s pretty clear what the creepy undead Things taking over the high school Alice takes place in are. Our cast then, naturally, are the outbreak’s few survivors. The main focus is on the “manzai club”, in truth just a pair of girls–Yuu and Nobuko–who aspire to be a manzai duo.

They’re hardly the only characters (and I’m doing the film a disservice by only briefly mentioning the Softball Club duo here), but they’re the two most important. Through their eyes, we see the broken-down remnants of the high school’s world, and their character interactions are great too. Some of this is funny; the OVA opens with the two riffing about why melonbread doesn’t actually have any melons in it. (Because a melon is too large, of course.) Some if it is melancholy; the two ruminate on their pasts more than once, and we find out that Yuu lost her mother some time ago. Some of it is just upsetting; the pair also witness the zombie of a former classmate being shot through the head, and the OVA’s whole color palette goes black, white, and blood-splatter red in the aftermath.

About that; Alice has a tendency to warp its visual style toward whatever emotion the story is trying to convey in the moment. This is not at all rare in anime (or in film in general). In 2021 alone, works as diverse as Super Cub and Sonny Boy have done it to lesser or great degrees. But a case this extreme in an OVA whose visual style is otherwise pretty grounded is notable, especially with regard to the backgrounds, which often take on a hand-painted look when the film needs to move away from “reality” to convey a particularly strong emotion; nostalgia, sadness, disquiet, etc.

As Alice ticks on, its cast hatch a plan to escape the titular deadly school. This part of the OVA particularly is rather straightforward, but it works.

Who says kids don’t need to know Chemistry?

And as Alice in Deadly School nears its end, I face a particular challenge.

You see, conveying why something hits you emotionally is hard. It’s arguably my entire job, but that doesn’t make it easier in cases like this. There are a lot of anime that end with a character death. It’s not rare, and most of the time it does little for me. I tend to consider it a little cheap; something of a writer’s shortcut. An easy way to tug on your audience’s heartstrings and also ditch a character you’ve run out of ideas for at the same time. It’s only rarely actually objectionable, but it’s one of the immortal tools of literature that does the least for me.

So when I actually am hit by one, I have to really sit and think about why.

Nobuko dies near Alice in Deadly School‘s very, very end. We don’t even see it on screen, but it’s clear that she’s contracted the virus and is starting to slip. Her and Yuu’s final conversation–in a strange, green dreamspace that is mostly in Yuu’s own mind–is devastating. One of the film’s key themes is that dreams, even if we don’t achieve them, can keep us going through even the worst times in our lives. Nobuko’s is her shared dream with Yuu, to be a comedy duo, and it tangibly, provably, does not happen.

But Yuu can carry on–though not without heartache–because Nobuko’s spirit, her own aspirations, live on inside her. Alice seems to offer the minor salve that perhaps no one is truly dead if they’re remembered. The final piece falls into place here, in one of the year’s single most….I don’t even really know. Brilliant? Audacious? Just plain weird? Artistic decisions; an apparent riff on the Love Live! series’ famous “Kotori photobomb”, here reappropriated as a symbol that no matter when those close to us may leave our lives, we will always carry a piece of them with us. It’s contrasted with a final cut to the reality of the situation; Yuu posing by herself in front of an empty swing set.

This theme of carrying your torch as long as it’ll stay lit bears out in a few other ways near the OVA’s conclusion, too. A character whose lifelong goal was to become an idol finds herself trapped in the school’s announcement room, and sings her heart out over the school broadcast system even as she’s actively succumbing to the virus. She imagines herself in a pastel pink music video even as she’s literally bleeding from the neck. For a single moment, she is who she’s always wanted to be. And then she’s gone, and her song ends like the flip of a lightswitch.

So is Alice in Deadly School ultimately a hopeful work? It’s a bit hard to say, but I’d like to think so, although maybe “cautiously optimistic” is a better way to think of it. The girls who escape only do so after they give up on any hope of outside help and basically rescue themselves. If we take Alice as an allegory for our fears about the future of the world–and goodness could it apply to a lot of them, as is a long-standing tradition in zombie fiction–maybe the message is that action is our only option. Then again, the girls flee to a nearby mall, apparently being maintained as a shelter by some other group of people. So perhaps the takeaway is that we can only survive with the help of others, but that we need to take the effort to actually reach out into our own hands.

The real brilliance of course is that you can take all that and more from Alice in Deadly School. It’s a truly fascinating little film. Not unlike a certain other short-form anime project that I covered not quite yet a year ago, it reads as a eulogy to those who are gone from the ones who are still alive, although its scope is broader. It offers a small hope; maybe some of us can make it out of all this alive. And for those who’ll die either way? Perhaps we can at least go out on our own terms. The same, really, could be said of Alice itself.

It seems doubtful that the film (or its parent series) will ever pick up much of a following. Weird little OVA projects like this almost never do, at least not over here in the Anglosphere. But for 40 minutes, it’s one of the strangest, most resonant, and yeah, one of the best anime of 2021. That counts for something. Hold it in your hearts.

Wanna talk to other Magic Planet Anime readers? Consider joining my Discord server! Also consider following me on Twitter and supporting me on Ko-Fi or Patreon. If you want to read more of my work, consider heading over to the Directory to browse by category.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text, excepting direct quotations, is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Monthly Movies, Reviews

Magic Planet Monthly Movies: WORDS BUBBLE UP LIKE SODA POP is Simple Summer Sweetness

This review contains spoilers for, and assumes familiarity with, the reviewed material. This is your only warning.

Like your emotions
rise above the sea
young one

The anime film industry runs over with summertime teenage romance. Nowadays, a film in this category has to be either really good or have some kind of twist to stand out. Words Bubble Up Like Soda Pop is in the former camp. It is conventional, but has such warmth and easygoing charm that, if you have even the slightest bit of room left in your heart for this genre, it’s impossible not to love.

The story (or rather, stories) here are extremely simple. Point the first; boy meets girl, literally. A chase sequence climaxes in a crash and an accidental phone switcheroo. Cherry, our boy, is a withdrawn haiku poet with a deserted Twitter account. Smile, our girl, is a teenage influencer who has recently become self conscious of her buck teeth. Mapping this out any further almost seems superfluous, if you’ve ever seen a film like this you can correctly guess that it all dovetails into shouted “I Like You”‘s and such. The story is a skeleton in this sort of film, not the flesh and blood.

Our second narrative is the more interesting one, involving an also-withdrawn old man who is also a haiku poet. The film neatly entwines together his story, and his love for his late wife (an also-bucktoothed singer-songwriter) with Cherry and Smile’s. But as sweet as all this is, lingering on story details risks getting stuck in the mud.

The current period of Makoto Shinkai’s filmography stands as a reference point, at least for me, here. Like those films, Words Bubble Up succeeds not because it is particularly complex or challenging, but because of its startling emotional resonance. It expertly captures sensations as disparate as the joy of first love, the fog and frustration of memory loss, the pleasures of artistic creation, and the deep futility of trying to correct an uncorrectable mistake.

Much of this comes down to the visual angle. The film’s symbolism is intricate, with every image chosen interlocking in a dozen different ways. Cherry blossoms are names and fireworks, and their leaves are buck teeth which link otherwise related characters across generations. Haikus are song lyrics. The sweetness of young love is a cola. The world is alive, so Words tells us.

On top of that? Bright, sharp coloring giving the world of the movie a look akin to informational posters and spot-the-object books. That may sound odd, even offputting, on paper, but in practice it works amazingly well, making the city it takes place in feel concrete in a way that even more “realistic” media can struggle with. It also means that Words is capable of conveying a ton of emotion through nothing more than some clever editing, or through character acting. Those whose greatest appreciation of anime stems from its core as animation will find a lot to pour over in this one.

Take Cherry, for instance. The boy’s character-as-written is solid but minimal. He likes haikus, he has a crush. But if we pay attention to his actions we can learn so much more. It’s straight-up pointed out that, in a way common to people with anxiety or processing disorders, he often keeps heavy headphones clamped over his ears to shut out unwelcome noise. As you may guess, he relies on them less over the course of the film, Smile’s companionship rendering them unnecessary.

Smile too gets a lot of attention in this regard. A moment late in the film where she’s shattered a vinyl record absolutely drips with intensity; you really feel her regret. She spends an entire night trying to glue it back together in a scene that probably lasts only a minute or two but feels three times that. All this without a single word being said.

That’s not to say the auditory component of the movie is unremarkable, though. The voice acting carries a lot of charm, with even minor characters like Beaver having distinctive tones. The soundtrack is excellent, too, and when we do finally get to hear that record (or rather, a copy) played at the story’s end, it’s a wonderfully sweet cut of folky pop.

“Sweet”, of course, is the operative word. I can think of few anime in recent memory that are so obviously fit by their titles. Of course words bubble up like soda pop; have you seen the world this movie takes place in? Like cola, I can imagine it being too sugary for some, but as summer ends, it’s the sort of refreshing treat I find myself craving.

If you like my work, consider following me here on WordPress or on Twitter, supporting me on Ko-Fi, or checking out my other anime-related work on Anilist or for The Geek Girl Authority.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.

Posted on in anime, Monthly Movies, Reviews

(REVIEW) EVANGELION: 3.0+1.01 THRICE UPON A TIME

SPECIAL WARNING: This review contains extensive spoilers for the reviewed material, and assumes familiarity with it and the remainder of the Neon Genesis Evangelion franchise.

“You’ve grown to be an adult, Shinji.”

In a very real sense, this is the end of something. Neon Genesis Evangelion has existed as a series since 1995. Long before it became a “franchise” as such, there were those original episodes and the films that followed them, most famously End of Evangelion. The Rebuild movies, always controversial, serve as a way to rewrite and redefine Evangelion, which has remained true through the rocky first, the astonishing second, and the burned-black, emotionally deadened third entries in the series. That Thrice Upon a Time, the fourth and final, will spawn mountains upon mountains of discourse is only natural. This is Eva. One can talk forever about its influences and its impact, but there is nothing else that is truly like it. Twenty-six years of history come to a stop here. Welcome to the end of an era.

Let’s start not at the beginning, but at the end.

After the harrowing of the soul that was You Can (Not) Redo, Thrice Upon a Time concludes as the only iteration of the Evangelion series to receive a wholly unambiguous happy ending. There is no room for confusion here. Shinji Ikari is all grown up, and accordingly, this movie will make you weep like a proud parent on graduation day. For a certain kind of Eva fan, this is a claim to be met with skepticism. Eva derives no small part of its immense reputation from being a truly withering under-the-microscope look at depression. But it’s important to clarify our terms here: Thrice Upon a Time does not rob Eva of that accolade, it reinforces it. After twenty-six years of spiraling, Thrice assures even those of us in the darkest pits of misery that yes, there is a way out of this. As a kind of anti-End of Evangelion, it is an open window disguised as a trap door.

Which is to say, having a happy ending and being a happy movie are two different things. Getting to that ending is quite the ride, a fact only enhanced by Thrice‘s incredible length, clocking in at two and a half hours. Improbably, it earns every second, but one could be forgiven for wondering.

After some action-focused eye candy to start things off with a bang, and which mostly stars Mari, the film refocuses on its protagonist. We open with Shinji in near-catatonic burnout. He is entirely non-verbal for the first forty minutes of the film, and the first words anyone says to him are an accusation that he is a spineless loser. When, at one point, he gets a look at Asuka’s collar, has a PTSD flashback, and vomits on the spot. This, just so you know, is what we’re dealing with here. That he manages to, in the course of only the film’s remaining 110 minutes, go from there to where he is by its finale is nothing short of astonishing. If Thrice Upon a Time did not have two and half decades of cachet to lean on here, it probably wouldn’t work.

Over the course of Thrice Upon a Time, we see Shinji make sustained and–this is key here–permanent character growth for, arguably, the first time ever. His character actually changing in a sustained way, the way one’s character is supposed to change as they grow up, rather than simply shifting. Where You Can (Not) Redo seemed to bitterly mock the very idea of ever growing as a person at all, Thrice demonstrates that it’s possible with nothing more than some genuine care. Village 3, the town of survivors that Shinji, Asuka, and one of Rei’s clones are based in for the first third or so of the film, is a place where people are forced by the aftermath of the near-Third Impact disaster to work together.

It is in this environment, shepherded by two of his old friends; the now-adult Kensuke and Touji, that Shinji is finally able to make real, positive changes to himself. Village 3 shows Shinji what he does not have. His friends have become adults, started families, and, in the way that their circumstances dictate, become healthy and productive people. Shinji has none of that, and although he never says as much out loud it’s clear even early on in the film that he’s keenly aware of it.

But he’s not alone, here. Asuka stands at a distance from Village 3–as she always has from everyone–and the Clone Rei, naïve as a newborn, rapidly integrates into it, only for her to die near the film’s one-third mark. This could easily send Shinji spiraling, but the fact that she appears to die happy seems to spark something inside him, which Kensuke in particular helps nurture, and this becomes the catalyst for his growth.

It’s tempting to map out his entire emotional journey here, but a fair amount of it feels so natural that doing so could be an article unto itself. If we skip ahead to near the film’s climax where Shinji is suddenly not only able to face Gendo but do so unafraid, you could be forgiven for thinking a natural transition impossible. Yet, it simply works, there is no explanation for it beyond the built-up credibility of Shinji’s long history as a character. It makes sense because he’s Shinji.

Further in, the middle stretch or so of the film is a clash of dazzling surrealities. Massive battleships slug it out in conceptual spaces, nonce terms like The Key of Nebuchadnezzar, The Golgotha Object, and The Anti-Universe gain biblical significance fitting their names.

It’s all wonderful, and all Extremely Anime, in the genericized sense of the term that commentators like myself tend to avoid using. Explosions, giant robots and monsters, incomprehensibly vast scales of combat, and of course the plethora of proper nouns. Asuka pulls a plot-significant item out of her eye at one point, you get the idea. Rarely is this done as well as it’s done here. Somehow all of the disparate parts make perfect sense, and one would not be wrong to invoke one of Eva’s own successors in the feeling of how. There really is a bit of Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann in it.

But, yes, the key thing. Shinji fights Gendo. He fights Gendo bravely and while wholly accepting himself, and this lets him question his father in a meaningful way for the first time. As the two’s bout turns from physical to conversational, Gendo reveals what we’ve all known all along. He is, beneath his monstrous acts, beneath his abuse, beneath the mad scientist and would-be godslayer, a deeply lonely man willing to go to inhumanly great lengths to see his late wife again. The most evil men tend to be simple, and Gendo is no exception. Shinji defeating Gendo is an entire generation conquering shared trauma. The sort of solidarity that is direly needed in an era as grim as ours, and the sort that means even more coming from Evangelion than it might almost any other series.

It’s prudent to take an aside here to say that the film is of course not perfect. There are faults to be found, but they’re minor and mostly on the production side. Studio Khara’s CGI-heavy, live action film-influenced visual style has always been divisive, and it will never be moreso than it is here, putting the capstone on what is far and away their most well-known series. For my money, I’d say it works in some contexts better than others. Truly disturbing and otherworldly imagery, like Asuka’s loss against Unit 13, or a bizarrely photorealistic, haunting echo of End of Evangelion‘s “floating Rei” are excellent.

In other places, especially in certain battle scenes, one can’t escape the feeling that there’s a grandiosity that these fights should have that they don’t always quite pull off. Mostly in the form of the sheer scale of the actors involved–especially the battleships–not always coming through. Still, these criticisms are easily offset by the other, aforementioned visual merits.

On a slightly more substantial level, one could argue that limiting the film’s perspective to mostly Shinji limits its impact. The death of the Clone Rei relatively early on being the example I suspect many will glom onto. But I think this is the wrong tack to take. Shinji, despite everything, has been all of us. Which is not to say he is all of us. Some folks, even some who love Evangelion dearly, have left that particularly dark phase of our mental illnesses long behind us. But we have all been “back there”, where every room is suffocating, and any activity is a distraction from our mind’s attempt to eat itself. And the fear of going “back there”, of possibly hurting yourself or worse, hurting others, is very real. Which is the exact thing that makes it so cathartic when, pushing back against twenty-six years of history, his own initial characterization, and the countless reductionist depictions of the character as a spineless wimp, Shinji wins. The Son, finally understanding his Father, vanquishes him without further struggle.

The new world he creates, as he is made able to do, is not some perfect paradise. It is a world not unlike ours, though I suspect, perhaps, a little brighter. Of course any distance between the two is a mere illusion. After such a long time clawing at one’s own soul, any daylight is welcome.

If the film’s climax seems to leave some questions unanswered, they simply don’t feel relevant. It’s Mari who pulls Shinji from his rapidly-fading sketch world into the new universe he’s created. The ending scene depicts Shinji, now an adult, living a truly, peacefully, ordinary life.

And so, the Sun shines on a world without Evangelions, and, for us, without Evangelion.

I am reminded by Thrice’s finale not so much of any other piece of Eva media, or indeed any of Gainax’s other marquee properties. Instead, my mind turns to the finale of the largely-overlooked Wish Upon The Pleiades. In that series’ finale, which marked the end of Studio Gainax’s time as a going concern as a producer of TV anime, no words are wasted on complicated, overwrought goodbyes. Instead, as here, it’s simply on to the next. The next universe, the next adventure, the next dawn, or, if you prefer, the neon genesis.

The final remarkable thing about Thrice Upon a Time is that it puts Neon Genesis Evangelion on the whole in the past, and at the same time, immortalizes it for the future. The end of an era, but the beginning of a new day. It is over, but it will be with us forever.

If you like my work, consider following me here on WordPress or on Twitter, supporting me on Ko-Fi, or checking out my other anime-related work on Anilist or for The Geek Girl Authority.

All views expressed on Magic Planet Anime are solely my own opinions and conclusions and should not be taken to reflect the opinions of any other persons, groups, or organizations. All text is owned by Magic Planet Anime. Do not duplicate without permission. All images are owned by their original copyright holders.