Category: Reviews

Posted on in anime, Reviews

(REVIEW) Love in Wartime: The Politics and Emotion of EUREKA SEVEN

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

Amazing grace
how sweet the sound

Sekai-kei, or “world story”, is a term of disputed origin. Held by many to be a westernism, invented by bloggers searching for a term to describe Neon Genesis Evangelion and stories of its ilk. Stories where the fate of the universe is tied inextricably to that of a central relationship and the mental state of its lead characters. NGE may hold the title as the series that inspired the term, but no anime has ever worn it as well as Eureka Seven. And no matter its origin, more than many anime the phrase is used to describe, “world story” feels like it fits Eureka Seven like a glove. Fifteen years after it began airing, E7 is capable of an astounding thematic and emotional resonance that hits as hard in 2020 as it did when the series ended in 2006. It’s matched by little else.

Try to grab hold of it, and it breaks down into images. Blood on wedding rings, underground rainbows, Superflat monsters and sky-fish, mecha on surfboards, political intrigue, social upheaval. Love, war, death and more, all soundtracked to trance, house, pop, and soul. This is Eureka Seven. Wildly ambitious, flawed but magnificent. Riddled with paradoxes, it is gangly and perfect.

It’s not hard to understand E7’s methodology. It combines an older, political strain of mecha anime with the metaphysical, psychological approach of the NGE* era. In this way, its closest contemporary cousin, funnily enough, might be another ambitious mecha series of the same era that attempted a similar approach; Code Geass. But while that anime traffics chiefly in camp, the minutiae of revolution, and shock value, Eureka Seven deals in much simpler, more universal substance. As promised in the title; emotion, politics, and the messy grey area that is their intersection.

It is again helpful to consider Eureka Seven as a series of meaningful contradictions. It bursts with music, but is punctuated by the shellshocked silence of war trauma. Dozens of opposites run through the show; love, and death, built things and natural things, Wide-eyed romantic idealism and stoic pragmatism, new life and disease, and so on. In this way, despite the fantastical nature of its soft sci-fi setting, Eureka Seven’s world is a lot like our own. This is important, because Eureka Seven is an anime with things to say, even if it takes a little while to get there.

Eureka Seven opens presenting itself as a classic adventure story. That of Renton Thurston, son of the late war hero Adroc Thurston, and his encounter with–and eventual admittance to–‘terrorist’ group The Gekkostate. It never sheds the structure of a latter-day bildungsroman, especially since Renton’s romance with the titular Eureka is a key part of the series, but it does go significantly beyond it in several other ways.

Other coming-of-age stories have dealt with the realities of growing up in a politically tense period. Few have depicted the rise of fascism with such polished, unsettling ease as Eureka Seven. The ascent of the dictatorial Dewey Novac ties to broader political sensibilities throughout the show. It is not a coincidence that Novac’s forces are generally clad in Nazi-evoking black uniforms, while the Gekkostate and affiliated resistance have a wide variety of looks, often inspired by musical subcultures. (The series overflows with musical reference, down to the name of Renton’s father. A namecheck of Beastie Boys member Ad-Rock.) Later, as Novac’s regime seizes power (complete with a by-the-fascist-book “big speech” to accompany his coup in episode 37) he launches a genocidal campaign against the scub coral. And plans involving surgically-altered super soldier children stretch back in-series years.

Elsewhere, the plight of the Coralians and their complex relationship to the humans in the world of Eureka Seven speak to an environmental bent. The series’ use of what is essentially technobabble may seem campy or silly, but it belies an internal logic that maps cleanly onto many different real-world problems. The “Question Limitation” is not something we will ever have to deal with, but similarly ominous two-word phrases (such as say, “Global Warming”) seem quite certain to define our immediate future.

The show’s long, rough middle third, meanwhile, where Renton is first hazed and then downright abused by many different members of The Gekkostate (but especially Holland) is a bleak, raw look at how such cycles of abuse perpetuate. Renton’s own journey to maturity is hamstrung by the existence of three malformed father figures; Adroc, the war hero who was never there for his own son, Holland, who grapples with his own complex feelings of responsibility regarding Eureka and often takes this frustration out on Renton in this portion of the series, and Charles, a loving father like Renton’s never had, but also a bloodlust-driven bounty hunter, whose conflicts with The Gekkostate eventually see him shot dead by Holland. It is only Renton’s ability to rise above all this–and to forgive–that allows these cycles to cease, and for him and Holland (the only one of the three still alive) to move forward.

All of this only scratches the surface, but you get the point. You may ask what ties all of these disparate themes together, and the answer is shockingly simple. One of anime’s great achievements as a medium is the ease and sheer emotional intensity with which it is often capable of portraying the simple, necessary, terrifying joy of human connection. In Eureka Seven, all of these problems, to a one, can be overcome by communication. By mutual understanding. By love. The show’s final opening theme–“Sakura”–interpolating, in a genuinely brilliant compositional move, the hymn “Amazing Grace”, gives the game away. It seems to say; If God lives not above, then we must love each other in his place. We have a duty to see the worth inherent in each other.

Indeed, Eureka Seven‘s greatest achievement is not any great subversion of expectations, any particular cut or shot (though many excellent examples of both exist throughout), its unique soundtrack, or anything else of the sort. It is this emotional core of empathy triumphing above all else that stands out. It is a spirit that persists in the medium to this very day, shining through from time to time in even the least of Eureka Seven‘s successors.

By Eureka Seven‘s end, and the incomparably romantic imagery of Renton and Eureka cradling each other in their arms as they hurdle through the sky, the series has made its point. Fifteen years later, in a world that every day feels closer to falling apart, Eureka Seven‘s message that even in our darkest hours we must hold each other close feels more resonant, immediate, and heartfelt than ever. That it’s so beautifully put together feels like proof that it’s the truth. How sweet, indeed, the sound.

*NGE of course did not invent this particular sort of mecha series, it merely popularized it. I’m inclined to suspect a shared lineage dating back to perhaps Macross. But without having seen that series myself it’s hard to say more, definitively. Eureka Seven is flooded with shared DNA both between and directly from other mecha anime and other sci-fi in general. I spotted more than one point of homage to another Gainax series; Gunbuster, and have been informed of several that draw from sci-fi novels. Director Tomoki Kyoda has called the series an “homage to his rebellious phase”, a sentiment that tracks with its empathetic state of mind and general feel quite wonderfully.

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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, Reviews

Review: THE IDOLMASTER (2011)

“I believe in everyone!”

In the grand scheme of things, the 2010s are only just over. In every artform, at every level of discourse, there are discussions to be had and evaluations to be made. What defined the New ’10s, now that they’re in the rear view? Perhaps more importantly, what deserves to be taken into the future? 2011’s The Idolm@ster turns ten next year, but it remains the gold standard by which nearly every other idol anime since has been judged. If it’s not the best idol anime, it can feel, especially at its heights, like the only one that truly matters.

The first interesting thing about Idolm@ster is how unselfconsciously normal it is. This is an idol anime with zero gimmicks, perhaps simply due to being from a time where you just didn’t need one. (Being adapted from an already-popular IP probably helped too.) Instead you have a large cast of characters, a shared dream of stardom among them, and some snappy sugary J-pop to soundtrack it all.

Despite these simple and few ingredients (and the aforementioned size of the cast), Idolm@ster never really feels like a marketing tool, even though on some level it is. The earnest, unfiltered look into the lives of twelve girls who are, at the start of the show, working-class entertainers conveys a kind of honesty more associated with rock documentaries than it is the idol industry.

This is not to say that The Idolm@ster is realistic–that would be absurd. Rather, it has a kind of focused idealism. The Idolm@ster does not depict so much the realities of becoming an idol (though they’re an influence on it), but rather the dream of becoming one. The series imagines a world where the truism that hard work and dedication can lead even the most humble of person to fame and fortune is not just true, but provable. This is an important distinction, because for all the mundanities it does depict, especially in its forehalf, The Idolm@ster is interested less in being about idols than it is being about people who want to become idols. It is a series, at its best moments, of character study, which elevates it above idol anime that come off as simply trying to sell something.

In an impressive feat of economy, over its 24 episodes nearly every member of its cast (including a few who aren’t members of the core 765 Pro group) gets at least one focus episode, a few get full-blown arcs. Chihaya’s, where she comes to terms with the death of her brother and learns to sing for herself, is probably the best, but several others are also very strong. This includes Haruka’s, also something of a broad-reaching arc for the group itself, which concludes the series. Not all of them quite get the screentime–or the consideration–they deserve, and The Idolm@ster‘s few flaws are always somehow tied to this. Makoto’s abbreviated story never reaches any satisfying conclusion; the gap between the masculine way she is sold to her audience and the feminine way she wants to actually present herself is never properly addressed, and it is the series’ sole serious misstep.

Importantly though not a single character feels like anything less than a fully-fledged person. Even those with somewhat silly personalities (such as Hibiki and her affinity for animals) have layers to them, and the show is keen to show off its writing in this regard. Haruka’s aforementioned show-concluding arc takes a sledgehammer to her surface personality as a hardworking ‘good girl’, only to build it back up with a healthy dose of magical realism (present in a few of the show’s strongest moments) in the penultimate episode.

But of course, as with everything, technique is only as valuable as the resonance it creates. The thing with The Idolm@ster is that even though, statistically speaking, most people watching it are not, and will never be, idols, it is shockingly easy to relate to what these girls go through. I suspect what connects with whom varies somewhat, but, going back to that character writing; every character’s motivation is simple, concrete, and dead-easy to get your head around. That means that when you see them struggle, you can put yourself in their shoes.

I love, for instance, Zombieland Saga, but most people are not (say) undead biker-delinquents, and struggles that stem from being one require a lot more levels of abstraction to really hit the audience in the heart. By contrast, and to return to my earlier examples, things like Haruka’s fear that her friend group is drifting apart, Mikki’s simple desire to be the center of attention, and Chihaya’s near-compulsive need to keep singing are all things that will touch different kinds of people in a very immediate and personal way. I write about anime because I love doing it, and I often find myself internally debating whether or not doing it just because of that is okay. Chihaya sings, as she eventually comes to terms with, because she loves doing it, and struggles with whether or not that’s okay. We are, by any reasonable metric, vastly different people, but The Idolm@ster‘s strength of craft is such that I can see myself in someone who is fundamentally very little like me because when she bares her soul at the climax of her focus arc, belting out “Nemuri Hime” acapella, I feel it in mine. What is art even for, if not that?

And that, ultimately, is what I intend to reflect here. This is a show that gets it. The appeal of a lot of anime is that everyone, fundamentally, can sometimes use a glimpse of a world where pop music or some other silly thing really can save your soul, and getting there requires a deft touch and a subtle command of high emotion. And Idolm@ster is very emotional indeed.

So, nearly ten years later, it feels safe to say that we can–and should–bring it with us into the ’20s and beyond. This is the one almost every idol anime since is still vigorously copying notes off of, and it’s easy to see why. Something this focused on looking forward could only age amazingly. “Onward to a sparkling future”, as one of the show’s many songs would put it. Are you ready?

If you like my work, consider following me 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.