reviews

I'm not one of these people who posts reviews often. Mostly I've come to keep my opinions about consumable media quiet. I think part of this is that I had very few allies who liked the same things that I did. Everyone else seemed quick to make fun of me for this reason. When I first got into anime, I always had to explain it to people that "Yes, it is animated, but it's not a cartoon. It's not something for kids just because it's drawn rather than acted." Roughly the same time I was big into electronica, and was mocked for my "videogame music". After a while, I just stopped trying. Why invite mockery?

Today I'm still into anime, but my music tastes have shifted toward heavy metal. Over the last month I've come to enjoy two particular creations in each genre. Curiously, both involve the French, and both involve the Japanese. Weird, huh?

Le Chevalier d'Eon

Le Chevalier d'Eon

The first is an anime series that's currently running through the fansubbing network. Le Chevalier d'Eon is a 24 episode series produced by Production I.G. The story centers around d'Eon de Beaumont, a knight of King Louis XV. It's pre-revolutionary France, and d'Eon's sister Lia is found floating down the Seine river in Paris. Her corpse bizarrely incorruptible, the church denies her a Christian burial. d'Eon dedicates himself to finding the killer.

d'Eon, however, soon finds himself plunged into a world of alchemy, Western magic, and royal intrigue. Thankfully, he's not alone -- ever.

Unable to go to Heaven, the spirit of Lia takes up residence in the body of her bother. At first, d'Eon did not notice this. When enraged or threatened, Lia takes control and completes the battle at hand. Spiritual possession is not a new subject in anime. Hana-Kimi -- one of my favorite manga -- also features a possession subplot. Other examples exist. What particularly drew me to this series, is what happens to d'Eon when Lia takes control.

Throughout the series, it's noted how similar d'Eon and Lia look. Indeed, a properly attired d'Eon would (and does) appear to be a splitting image of his sister. During battle d'Eon isn't simply possessed by her sister, but becomes her. Subtle details betray the transformation: Posture, lip coloration, eye design, and most obvious, a change in voice. This isn't a Ranma 1/2 style transformation with it verging on fantastical. You can see an example at wikipedia. The effect is so subtle that the characters even use this to their advantage at key moments. How far the transformation extends -- are there actual physical changes or not? -- has yet to be answered at the episode I'm currently at.

This isn't the only thing fascinating about the series. The story is deliciously laden with conspiracies, secret societies, and plots against royalty from several countries. A type of Alchemy and Western magic based on the Book of Psalms predominates the series. Even without all the gender changing, this is a wonderful series.

I was only incidentally attracted to this series due to the title. Another series I have yet to complete, Blood+, also makes copious use of the word Chevalier. Upon researching the series and it's titular transformation sequence, I had to see it myself. It sometimes can be curious watching a series set in France, with French characters, where everyone speaks Japanese. This can be a bit confusing for a native English speaker. Despite other "high-priority" series on my anime queue, such as Ergo Proxy and Nana, Le Chevalier d'Eon has moved to the top of my list.

Gojira - From Mars to Sirius Gojira - From Mars to Sirius

For the last year, I've developed in interest in Heavy Metal. I've been introduced to several fascinating bands in that time through my Sirius Satellite Radio subscription. While "anything heavy" sounded appealing at first, I've come to adore bands that edge more toward Progressive Metal, Post-Rock, and Sludge Metal. Many of these bands are (reportedly) drug influenced.

A few months ago a new song appeared on my receiver, "To Sirius" by Gojira. The DJs would always crack at the incidental relationship between the song title and the corporation name. Despite that, it was a spectacular song. When I finally remembered to look up the lyrics, I was even more impressed. "To Sirius" told the story of a group of beings that left a dying world to seek beings on a planet orbiting Sirius C. I hit record on my Stiletto 100 and repeated the song often.

One afternoon I decided to seek out the entire CD. It had been years since I liked a CD. A few songs, sure, but the entire CD had always been a miss. Lacuna Coil's Karmacode was an exception to that trend last year. I was also happy to find out that Gojira's latest, From Mars to Sirius was also an exception.

Much like "To Sirius" (the second to last track), the entire CD revolves vaguely around the same subject. While some tracks are brutal examples of metal with curiously spiritual lyrics, others are more wistful. I've found myself listening to the CD again and again. Even more strange, I listened to the tracks in the order in which they're given. From Mars to Sirius tells a story best read (or listened to) in order.

The band was originally named "Godzilla", after the famous Kaiju. Due to licensing problems, the band decided to adopt the original Japanese name "Gojira". The band, however, isn't Japanese. From their songs you can tell they are singing in English, and despite the death metal grunting, no accent. To my surprise, the band members are French. Given the pride in which native French speakers have in their language, this seems surprising to me. A French band with a Japanese name that sings in English; if that doesn't suggest it belongs in my menagery of tunes, go listen to it yourself.

London, 2027. A rumbled, tired-looking man walks into a crowded coffee shop. Inside, both the patrons and staff are transfixed by the ultra-thin monitor that seemingly hangs mid-air. A news special plays announcing the death of a young man of 18 years. The man works his way through the crowd to the counter, and apologetically orders a latte. The news continues; knifed behind a bar, "baby" Diego was killed by a fan asking for his autograph. He was the youngest person on earth. "Thank you," mumbles the rumpled man, as he walks back through the crowd and toward the exit and out onto the London street. The world outside is a simmering multidimensional display of LCD, constantly moving, covering every available surface. From the double-decker buses, to buildings, to the three-wheeled motorcycle taxis that rush by. The man stops by a newspaper box setting down his coffee. From his coat he produces a small bottle of whiskey which he pours clumsily into the paper cup. Returning the bottle and the lid of the latte, he begins to walk to work solemnly.

A loud explosion fills his ears as the shop behind him becomes a rush of fire and gray smoke. Nearly blown off his feet he turns to look at the aftermath. A woman emerges, hysterical and disheveled, a severed arm in her hand.

The title flashes, "Children of Men", boldly, silently, hauntingly, across the screen.

When I first heard of this film, it was through the multitude of ads. I've become easily annoyed by them due to their general lack in my life. I don't watch television save for a few shows. I don't listen to broadcast radio, as I constantly listen to Sirius. However the ad campaign for this film seemed to follow me around the last week enough to become annoyed. What irked me in particular was how it was described as "Blade Runner for the 21st century". Blade Runner is consider a sci-fi classic, and is still one of the best examples of a dystopian future to date. It shares a number of similarities to this film. It doesn't assume to be sci-fi, it simply is sci-fi by the fact that the timescale has been advanced and technology has changed. Humanity is still the same pathetic, grimy wretch that we know it is today. Star Trek this isn't. People still eke out an existence doing whatever they can, those in power are still corrupt and insular, and advertisement is ever-present.

And while both films occur against a futuristic backdrops, their stories are as old as the Akkadian Empire. In Children of Men, an illegal alien -- or "fugie" assumingly for "fugitive" -- is found to be the only fertile woman alive (Claire-Hope Ashitey). She and the rumpled man, played by Clive Owen, must find their way through shimmering cities, menacing relocation camps, and deadly battlefields to reach the sea. They they hope to meet a boat which will take her to The Human Project, which aims to revitalize the species -- if it exists at all. A similar story could be told against the backdrop of Nazi Germany if one changes a few details.

By having it near future, the film gains the added dimension of a haunting message for what is to come. England has become a fascist county. The borders have been closed years ago and illegal immigrants are herded into buses, wire cages, or to their knees with the sign of "Homeland Security" hanging overhead. In the outside world governments have collapsed, riots and violence prevail. And all of this is summed up in a 30 second advert ending with "Only England Soldiers On" to the toll of Big Ben. This initial part of the film is starkly reminiscent of the graphic novel V for Vendetta which I'm currently reading (and coincidentally, given to me for Christmas by a British man). Sadly, there is no masked figure in Children of Men to set the world right.

Children of Men is supremely directed. It's stark storytelling is met only by it's swift brutality. If a character's tenure has come to an end, it isn't met with the hollow nobility and dishonest orchestral rise as in Mission to Mars. This fact alone sets it apart from nearly any other film I've had the privilege to enjoy. While my description of paints a dark and inhospitable world, the director choose wisely to insert dry humor (humour?) at key moments. The purpose of this was not to be funny, but to break the tension. Otherwise, this film would simply be too much to bare.

While I only have seen the film once, it already ranks among a special set of films for me. Along with Serial Experiments Lain, Grave of the Fireflies, and Schindler's List, Children of Men is a film that intimidates me. It is a film that gets under my skin and touches my core. It is a film I am quick to suggest, but afraid to watch again. To me, it is the highest honor I can give.

To be honest, I'm not a superhero fan. I find that beings granted superpowers, either through alien genetics or radioactive isotopes rather preposterious. At least american superheros, as I can more easily accept Super Saiyan powers or Moon Star Power. The exception of course, is Batman. Even Batman Begins can't quite null out the fact that he's still a rich boy with too many toys and not enough therepists.

Before anyone that might happen to read this page will say it, I hereby proclaim that I'm baised. I don't like Superman. I find his outfit and (near) invincibility laudable. If given the opportunity, I'd love to see the bastard shackled in Kryptonite and brought down to our level. Can you tell I'm a fan of Lex Luthor? Thankfully, I get my wish in this film, albeit briefly.