Before we get to the big 140 and the beginning of something a bit special that I've been planning for ages, there's just time for a little diversion that I've also mulling over for quite a while now.
Having been at this nonsense for the better part of a decade, I think it's fair to say that I'm not the same vintage anime reviewer I was when I started out. In particular, I'm much more of an animation nerd these days, and a bit more informed about the craft that goes into these things. On the flip side, I've also probably got a bit less discerning, or else more forgiving of the sorts of flaws that were endemic to anime way back when. As such, there are plenty of older reviews I'd like to go back and tweak. Fortunately for my sanity, since I started providing scores on the summary pages, I sort of can without going all out and writing a fresh review. But there are certain titles where my opinion has changed not just slightly but radically, and where I simply can't stand by my original reviews. And that aside, there are anime releases that are available in a variety of forms of less-than-equal value, and I didn't always get to the best version on my first go round.
Therefore, hopefully as a one off, lest this all get even more out of hand than it already is, this time through I'll be revisiting four titles I reviewed in the dawning days of these posts, those being Black Jack: The Movie, X, Armitage III, and Metal Skin Panic Madox-01...
Black Jack: The Movie 1996, dir: Osamu Dezaki
Way back in 2015 - and seriously, have I been at this for nine whole years? - I had very little nice to say about the first motion picture adaptation of Osamu Tezuka's feted manga Black Jack. Indeed, so unimpressed by it was I that my hostility carried over into a general dislike of everything else I came across by director Osamu Dezaki that stayed with me for the longest time, and only really dissolved in earnest, ironically, when I encountered the Black Jack OVA series from which I take the film to have been a sort of spin-off. Now my feelings toward Dezaki are a good bit kinder, and that, combined with the fact that distributor Discotek brought the movie out in a proper, remastered, anamorphic edition*, seemed reason enough to give it another chance.
Of the two factors, maybe that second one is the biggie. Up until Discotek rescued it, the only edition we had of Black Jack: The Movie was the crummy non-anamorphic one Manga put out way back when, which, like many of their screw-ups, could only be watched in a double-letterboxed window in the middle of your widescreen TV. And when a film relies on its visuals as heavily as this does, that's ruinous. Manga couldn't, of course, make it look bad, but they could certainly suck a lot of the impact from it, since even the finest animation doesn't benefit from being squinted at. But watch it as was intended and the quality is often gob-smacking. One thing that struck me is the extent to which Dezaki refuses to rely on the traditional cost-cutting measures that make anime commercially viable: extensively reusing backgrounds, looping sequences that are just long enough to hide the repetition, that sort of thing. There's a crowd scene toward the end, and I'd swear every background figure was individually animated, though it's the kind of detail you'd never notice unless you were really looking. But look that closely and Dezaki's attention to detail is remarkable.
Which is an odd thing to say given that one of my main criticisms last time around was that the film felt random and slapdash. What can I say? I was wrong. Dezaki makes plenty of weird choices across the movie's ninety minute run time, and I'd struggle to argue that every one is right or sensible, but on a rewatch, it was clear that at the very least a good deal of thought had gone into every scene and edit. Indeed, the general feeling is that Dezaki was directing as though this were live action, choosing his shots first and figuring out how the medium could keep up afterwards, as a very secondary concern.
And then there's the plot, which I was also pretty mean about, and also for reasons I struggle to figure out in retrospect. Here, perhaps the decisive factor is having a portion of the OVA under my belt, because Black Jack is a series that largely plays by its own rules, and knowing them going in is a definite advantage. Still, it's hard to see how I could have been so hostile to the tale presented here: it's deep, smart stuff, asking meaningful ethical questions and finding notes of real, wrenching horror in its answers. And its lead character is fascinating: that's not rogue surgeon Black Jack as you might expect, incidentally, but another doctor and surgeon, Jo Carol Brane, who drags the film's namesake into her investigation of the supposed superhumans who've begun to appear, only to decay at a startling rate. Like Black Jack, she's neither hero nor villain, and it only became apparent in this reappraisal the extent to which the plot is a duel between the two, professionally but more so morally. Certainly the actors come alive when they're paired together, and for the first time I really appreciated just how good Akio Ôtsuka's performance as Black Jack is. There's a one-word line reading - an outraged "nani" in Japanese, "what?" in English - that he nails so perfectly that it literally sent a shiver up my spine.
All of which is to say, at some length, that I don't know what the hell I was thinking when I first reviewed Black Jack: The Movie, though in fairness I'm sure it had a lot to do with trying to get past the limitations of Manga's subpar release. At any rate, I'm happy to call myself a convert: this is one of the most unique, stylish, and intelligent anime features to come out of the nineties, and if you can lay your hands on the Discotek release, I recommend it wholeheartedly.
X, 1996, dir: Rintaro
At the risk of letting on just how long I've been cobbling this post together for, it was watching Harmagedon that made me want to revisit X. I suppose I figured that if I could find enjoyment in that, with all its obvious flaws, then there'd be something more to be had from a release I'd only really criticised on a single point: that for all its obvious virtues, its relentless nihilism rendered it no fun to watch. My expectations remained low, but I happened upon a copy for fifty pence, at which point the decision rather made itself.
And, I don't know, maybe I just caught it in the right mood that second time around - which was to say, a rather dark one - but I was so much more impressed that it's ridiculous. Now I'm hovering around calling X a masterpiece, and I suspect that if someone would replace Manga's traditionally crummy non-anamorphic release with a blu-ray edition, I'd go there. I remember noting the first time through how good it looks, but I hadn't seen anywhere near as much anime at that point and so didn't fully appreciate how consistently gorgeous Rintaro's movie is. It really is exquisitely animated, and the director's visual imagination, which I've come to appreciate more and more despite his frequent failings as a storyteller, ensures that every scene is hypnotic in its own right. So even if I were to accept the point of the earlier me that there's nothing going on here except for stunning animation, I'd still have to recommend it, wouldn't I? Stunning animation isn't something to be sniffy about, no matter how much the story it tells is basically a nose-dive into the depths of hell.
Here's the thing, though: yes, X is unrelentingly dark, and yes it delivers no tension. We're told the world will end, we're told approximately how, and then we watch those events unfold, with all the subtlety and surprise of an executioner's axe falling. You can respond to that in one of two ways, I suppose, and I'm not about to say my reaction was altogether wrong the first time; X is thoroughly brutal and that brutality isn't pleasant to experience. Yet it's also far from straightforward: one thing I apparently failed to note, for example, was how neither side of the conflict that's set to annihilate Tokyo and then the world are categorically wrong, or even categorically bad people. Oh, perhaps they're a bit too eager to follow absolute ideologies, but then they're not the ones setting the rules. And from that perspective, X is rather fascinating, and intelligent as well. It has a lot to say, most of which I apparently missed or ignored.
Heck, I even don't dislike the CLAMP look of big eyes and pointy chins anymore! In fact, I found the character designs as impressive as the rest of the visuals. Oh, and how did I not mention the soundtrack? It's extraordinary, and as Rintaro notes in the interview provided on the disk, it's the beating heart by which he paces every other aspect of his movie. X is a tough watch by any measure, but what I realised coming back to it is that it's not violent and nihilistic for the mere sake of being so, and it offers a host of compensating pleasures. The day it gets a proper release it will become indispensable; for the moment, I'm only promoting it to highly watch-worthy.
Armitage III, 1995, dir: Hiroyuki Ochi
I'd very little bad to say about the movie Armitage III: Polymatrix, which I reviewed way, way back in December of 2015. As cut-down film versions of anime adaptations go, it's startlingly respectful and successful, and the presence of two genuine stars in the lead roles does it little harm. (In the first draft of this review, I quipped, "even when one of them is Elizabeth Berkley" at this point, but you know what, I genuinely like Berkley's take on Armitage. And she's great in Showgirls too, so there!) Nevertheless, I did note back then that "...another half hour, a bit more time for the story and relationships to cook, and we might really be looking at a classic." And ever since, that prospect nagged at me: I'd returned to Polymatrix a couple of times since, and grown awfully fond of it, but I always ended up with that same sense of being ever-so-slightly short changed.
What do you know? I was right. Well, not about everything; I overestimated how much cut material there was, for a start: ignoring the credits, it's probably not even quite that half hour. But what there is makes a heck of a difference, albeit a subtle one, if that makes any sense. Put simply, it turns what's very much an action movie into far more of a science-fiction mystery, and an absorbing one at that, even for the viewer who thought they knew the story backwards and forwards. In its OVA incarnation, Armitage III is notably more plot-driven, and indeed surprisingly action-light; this, by the way, is no bad thing, given that the action's as good as it is. In fact, the moments of violence are a good deal more impactful for the otherwise slower tone, not to mention the greater investment in characterisation. And, as someone who'll always prefer a sub over a dub, it's great to hear the original Japanese performances. Hiroko Kasahara, in particular, is a subtler, less emotive Armitage, and for all that I don't want to knock Berkley's interpretation, that restraint does benefit the character considerably.
Elsewhere, everything is precisely as good as it was in Polymatrix - only, again, with less emphasis on pace and more room in which to absorb the outstanding soundtrack and superlative design work. I don't know that I'd entirely appreciated how gorgeous the background art in Armitage III is, or how wonderfully realised its futuristic Mars setting; there's a sense that's rare, in anime or elsewhere, of a place that might actually fit together and have been built by human beings for a genuine purpose. It's a stunning world, a visual treat but also rich in depth and history. Along with some of my favourite character designs anywhere in anime, and the strong writing, and the excellent performances, it's enough to make a somewhat pulpy science-fiction tale into a work of real heft and heart.
Which is still not to say it's a classic in the way that, say, Ghost in the Shell is a classic: Ochi has an excellent handle on his material, but he's no Oshii, despite having such distractingly similar names that I wish I'd picked a different film to compare with. It's merely an excellent bit of science-fiction anime, and in the higher echelons of what the decade would produce. (Oh, and for my money, a vastly better sequel to Blade Runner than the one it actually got, and which is founded on exactly the same conceit that Armitage III covered more authoritatively two decades earlier!) Nevertheless, I'd urge anyone with the vaguest interest in the genre to track down a copy. Watch Polymatrix if you have to, since it's infinitely easier to get hold of, but if you can find it, the OVA is comfortably the superior version.
To some extent, Madox-01 is here as yet another of that wealth of titles I covered when they were only available in unsatisfactory editions and failed to imagine how good they might be if only their distributors hadn't let them down. That certainly couldn't be truer here: Madox-01 in its original Japanese and in a high-definition print is a world away from what Manga dropped out long ago as part of their budget Collection range. But that's not the whole of the truth, because, whatever you do with it, Shinji Aramaki's directorial debut remains something a bit special, and in suggesting the precise opposite on my first go around, I thoroughly missed the mark.
Perhaps, though, you need to be something of a hardened vintage anime fan to really get the best out of a title that feels very much as though it was made both by and for that particular demographic. It is, to be clear, a perfectly fine short science-fiction film, and that's not nothing: indeed, every time I watch it, I'm a little more impressed by the extreme economy with which Aramaki and co tell a complete tale with a beginning, middle, and end and some moderately developed characters and what feels like about half a dozen big action set pieces and somehow cram the lot into 42 minutes counting credits. But still, come for the story and you may find yourself feeling mildly let down, as I did on my first encounter: it is, after all, quite a silly one, and if there's one thing you definitely can't accomplish in 42 minutes, it's making the notion of a teenager accidentally trapping himself in a suit of experimental robot armour and using it to track down his girlfriend before she vanishes off to live abroad seem more plausible.
Mind you, I doubt any number of minutes could have truly sold that concept, and I doubt, too, that plausibility was high on anyone's list of priorities. No, what I suspect was in the forefront of everyone's minds was coming up with a unique, cool-looking mechanical design and chucking it into plentiful battles, and that Madox-01 does with great aplomb. The narrative machinations needed to get us there may not be terribly believable, but the Madox itself certainly is, as much so as any comparable design that's ever come out of anime. And if you're of a certain inclination - which is to say, if you're a big old nerd for meticulously thought-through mecha designs - then it's a joy to behold, the more so since Aramaki himself is evidently nerding out as much as any viewer possibly could and wants us to see as much of his cool robot suit as possible, doing as many cool things as possible.
Madox-01, then, is a title that does one thing extremely well - two if you choose to separate out the mechanical designs and the action sequences they're flung about in - and while that wasn't enough for me way back when, especially with Manga's dub working to distract me from those virtues, it more or less is now. Actually, watching in the original Japanese perhaps did more to change my opinion than the uplift to Blu-ray: Madox-01 got one of Manga's less bad dubs, but its great mistake is to make the comedy the core of the thing, where the Japanese cast are content to play the straight scenes straight and not worry about a spot of tonal whiplash, meaning that, for example, we get a much more compelling villain who actually feels like a meaningful threat. But what I started to say is that, if you're to enjoy Madox-01, you really do need to be there for the robot action, because everything around that is merely good. Nonetheless, now that AnimEigo have gifted us with a shiny Blu-ray, I'd certainly err towards saying give it a chance regardless: it's no masterpiece for the ages, but Madox-01 has earned its place in anime history, and there aren't too many movies of a comparable length I'd rank above it.
-oOo-
This was probably a bad idea - in that I'm already wondering what else I desperately need to revisit! - and yet I'm glad I got to set the record straight in more public fashion than my usual sneaky tweaking of the scores page that probably no-one ever looks at. These reviews have never been meant to be anything but wildly subjective, but still, there's wrong and there's completely, stupidly wrong, and I definitely strayed towards that latter with a couple of the titles here. Now, let's just hope I got it more or less right this time, eh? I really don't want to have to do this again in another few years...
[Other reviews in this series: By Date / By Title / By Rating]
* Which, sadly, is now out of print and pretty rare in its own right.
