I’ve known about Riki-Oh(aka The Story of Ricky) and its supremely over-the-top violence for decades. Whether it was seeing grotesque(ly awesome) moments from the original manga by Takajou Masahiko and Saruwatari Tetsuya, or animated gifs of the most ridiculous scenes from the 1991 Hong Kong movie directed by Lam Nai-Choi, those images stay with a person. When I finally got around to watching that film adaptation, I thought I was ready for what I was about to see. What no one ever told me was just how much Riki-Oh speaks to a nascent prison-industrial complex that has only grown horrifically stronger by 2024.
The opening narration text establishes that Riki-Oh takes place in the future year of 2001, where something horrifying has happened: All government organizations has been privatized, including prisons.
Seeing this made my eyes widen in surprise. When for-profit private prisons plague the United States and treat its inmates in the cruelest ways possible, when Hong Kong itself is having its rights taken away, and when there is actual talk about privatizing state and federal penitentiaries in the US, this movie feels practically prescient. I don’t know how much of this is from the original manga and how much is a quality of the movie, but it’s a hell of an establishing message to put at the beginning.
Then, our hero, Lik-Wong (literally Riki-Oh in Chinese) shows up among the newest batch of convicts. He’s impossibly cool and strong, living with five bullets lodged in his chest and possessing the power to punch people so hard, their body parts explode. To say he’s cut from the same cloth as Kenshiro from Fist of the North Star would be an understatement. But one thing is immediately clear about him: While he is capable of astounding acts of lethality, he would rather there be respect for human dignity, and so tries to show restraint. However, should someone trample on that humanity, Lik-Wong’s willing to give them some consequences for their actions. He believes strongly in peace, but will not preserve a false one in the absence of justice.
And so Lik-Wong gets into many battles and punches holes in his foes and cleaves their limbs off with the power of his qi gong. He is a manga hero brought to life. But the really interesting portrayals come from the other prisoners, both individually and as a whole. Some are brutal and unrepentant criminals who have gotten in with the equally malicious guards for their own selfish benefit. Others are good people only in there due to a corrupt justice system. Those who are victimized by the prison and its warden, including being used as slave labor for illegal drug production, rally behind Lik-Wong and even gain inspiration to fight back thanks to him.
But Lik-Wong, for his part, understands that you can’t hold him up as the standard of what a normal person can do. When his fellow inmates resist orders to bury him alive, our hero tells them to do it anyway. They need to avoid incurring the wrath of the warden and stay alive to resist tomorrow. By the end, the prisoners stage a mass revolt while Lik-Wong fights the superhuman monsters that make up the prison’s strongest fighters. Lik-Wong is singularly exceptional, but even he can’t do it alone.
So we’re left with a movie featuring the most off-the-wall feats of dismemberment and disembowelment as performed by a very colorful cast of characters, and underneath it all are some profound questions. Why do we permit the utter dehumanization of prisoners while allowing prisons to profit off their enslavement? Why do we allow people with such an opportunity for corruption to wield such power over people? Sadly, we have no Riki-Ohs or Lik-Wongs in the real world, but we do have the ability to rally around those who believe in compassionate justice that protects the vulnerable, and to work together to make a difference.
Video essayist F.D Signifier has made various videos about what he calls edgelord movies—media featuring cool lone-wolf heroes—and the way they interact with the portion of their fanbase that consist of a male, mostly white viewers drawn to their depiction of masculinity. Fight Club, The Matrix, Joker, and even something like Attack on Titan all count towards this. They’re fascinating watches, and well worth checking out.
At the end of his most recent video (see above), he comes to a striking conclusion: Attempts to address edgelords through edgelord media are probably in vain because there will always be a part of that audience who will just remember the badass stuff and ignore (or not even notice) the criticism. To make an edgelord movie, you need edgelord moments, and that is what a particular type will gravitate towards. If you make violence look cool, that’s what some people will remember above all else.
I can definitely see where F.D Signifier is coming from. But despite my sense that he might very well be right, I’m going to toss in my suggestion for an edgelord title that I think is the most likely to reach that audience and drive its criticisms home: Chainsaw Man.
Fujimoto Tatsuki’s manga Chainsaw Man centers around Denji, a destitute boy who does menial tasks for gangsters and dreams of 1) losing his virginity 2) eating bread with jam. Through an odd confluence of events, he gains the power of the Chainsaw Devil and becomes Chainsaw Man, with a chainsaw for a head and chainsaws on his arms…and also he can just make chainsaws come out of his body. The series is crass and ultra violent, and Denji acts as this powerful hero who breaks all the rules.
Except, where other edgelord fiction might leave any revealing commentary about its protagonist to the end (Fight Club, Attack on Titan), or couch its transgressive politics in imagery and metaphor (The Matrix), Chainsaw Man constantly juxtaposes the “sigma male” qualities of Denji with his own pathetic nature. Rarely does a badass scene or arc take place that isn’t immediately cut at the knees while the series questions that badassery in the first place. While it’s still possible to ignore Denji’s sadder qualities, Chainsaw Man really throws it in the audience’s face over and over again. There are even times where Denji himself explicitly expresses frustration over how shallow he can be, and how he often wishes he wasn’t that way.
I don’t have any empirical evidence that Chainsaw Man has reached anyone in the manner I’ve described. In fact, I often see the opposite, as parts of the Chainsaw Man fandom concentrate on refracted pieces instead of the whole: the brutal violence, the character Makima’s domme aesthetic, general wackiness, etc. But while at least a chunk of that audience might never learn, the series itself continuously pulls apart its own power fantasy only to put it back together and then tear it up again in a continuous cycle. It never relents, and I think that persistence could pay off.
Delusional Monthly Magazine feels like a show that, by all rights, shouldn’t exist.
When I was first getting into anime, one of the selling points was simply the way it contrasted with American cartoons. Instead of cartoony mascot characters, it had cool-looking humans and fantasy races. Instead of silly stories that resolved more or less in one episode, anime featured ongoing epic storylines. And instead of incompetent antagonists, you could see villains who took lives and struck terror in their victims. While this is not an accurate description of anime as a whole, it was definitely a common sentiment at the time.
But Delusional Monthly Magazine is like an anime homage to 80s–90s American cartoons, the kind of thing you’d see on a weekday afternoon or Saturday morning. If you put it next to He-Man, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, some version of Scooby-Doo, Bionic Six, Mummies Alive, Road Rovers, or any number of shows that typically get reviewed by Secret Galaxy, it would hardly look out of place. And I don’t even mean that the show is reminiscent of these series at their best, like when they have magnificently animated openings. Rather, Delusional Monthly Magazine often calls to mind the sillier episodes where the budget wasn’t so hot.
Warning: Spoilers for the entire series.
In the world of the show, the eponymous Delusional Monthly Magazine is a periodical dedicated to exploring the occult, and its entire staff consists of a bunch of weirdos. Their newest recruit is Goro, a researcher who’s obsessed with the long lost continent of Mo (not Mu), and who sets them on a path to discovering relics that may be clues to finding the Mo Continent. They have to compete with the mysterious White Pegasus corporation, who’s also looking for Mo relics called MOParts (a play on OOPArts), but when one relic comes into contact with Taro, the girl-starved perpetual slacker on the team, he transforms into a massive tiger man straight out of Thundercats. Not long after, allies and enemies alike discover the ability to turn into these “Motarian” beastmen, and they clash in varied and often ridiculous ways.
When I say ridiculous, what I mean is that the plots are straight-up Shredder-and-Krang affairs. They even have two Motarian beast goons not unlike Bebop and Rocksteady, albeit with more effeminate features. The bad guys set up a fake cruise ship dating service to steal the MOParts. The good guys try to deal with an actor possessed by a relic that makes him ruin every performance he’s in, and Taro in tiger form does a doubles’ figure skating routine. One of the characters, a 10-year-old with healing powers, turns out to have been a bull-form Motarian prince. A sudden dog show that’s more of a dog triathlon includes a dance section, where the crew’s weirdly anthropomorphic shaggy dog (and not in the furry sense like with Taro) busts a move. Also, the dog is actually a reincarnated Motarian human bard, and there are some mild BL elements too.
Given all the above, it’s as if Delusional Monthly Magazine is a Japanese animation that embodies all the qualities that anime was supposed to stand in contrast to. Is that good? Is that bad? It almost doesn’t matter because the mere fact that we have a show like this to watch is like a miracle in and of itself. I constantly found myself questioning how any of this could be real.
Even the climax of the series itself feels like the way a long-running and episodic TV cartoon or a 90s anime that got popular in the West would do a season finale. The mostly frivolous stories make way for a very sudden and dramatic double-triple twist. First, we discover the quiet boss lady who owns the magazine was once a scientific prodigy who was ostracized for declaring that the Mo continent was real, and that she is actually a reincarnated Motarian. Second, she was very close friends with the leader of White Pegasus, who was also a scientist. Third, she’s actually the villain of the series, and wants to revive the Mo continent to use its doomsday weapon to wipe out humanity. The heroes win the day, and the show gets to provide some basic closure that works both as an ending (should it not be renewed,) and leaves open the possibility of continuing.
Delusional Monthly Magazine has a very intentional retro feel, to the extent that the show itself makes a joke about how its episode titles are reminiscent of the dramatic and sometimes spoilerific episodes titles of older anime. But it’s one thing to call back to a previous era, and another to structure your entire show in a way that not only leaps back in time but reaches across the ocean to capture the attitude of a certain era of American animation. In anime fandom, we throw words like “weeaboo” around to describe people obsessed with Japanese culture, and this feels like the other side of the coin.
The creator of Delusional Monthly Magazine, Umatani Ichigo, is credited with just one other work: a property called Remote ☆ Host, which seems to be about rival host clubs that broadcast remotely? I’m not entirely sure and would be interested in knowing more about it. The reason I looked this up is because I was hoping to get some insight into whatever mind brought this to fruition. I couldn’t find any answers, and I don’t know how much the director and writer played a part in making such a bizarre work. Whatever the reason, we have an anime that defies expectations.
A part of me can’t believe that I got to watch an all-new Kinnikuman anime in 2024.
While I didn’t really get into the series until the late 2000s, I became engrossed in the eclectic mix of ultra violence, slapstick silliness, surprisingly compelling characters, and sheer unpredictability, all couched in the aesthetics of pro wrestling and heroics. When the original manga started up again in the 2010s after concluding pretty definitively three decades ago, I entertained the thought of reading the new volumes, but I put the idea off with the intent to get around to it eventually. Having an anime adaptation come out worked out in my favor.
So here we have Kinnikuman: Perfect Origin Arc, which takes place shortly after the end of the original series, where Kinnikuman defeated his rivals for the throne of Planet Kinniku. In this new universe, members of one of the three main factions, the Perfect Choujin have emerged to stop a peace treaty on Earth between their side and the Justice Choujin and Devil Choujin. More powerful than the previous Perfect Choujin that Kinnikuman and his allies had previously faced, they’re eager to prove their superiority in the ring. With most of the strongest Justice Choujin severely injured from previous bouts and Kinnikuman himself attending to his kingly duties, the Perfect Choujin have a seemingly overwhelming edge.
Kinnikuman is actually a very influential Shounen Jump series, to the extent that many of the things it popularized are now part of the fabric of battle manga. It predates Fist of the North Star, JoJo, and Dragon Ball, while being the series to put tournament arcs on the map. It features a silly hero with a heart of gold who continually turns fierce enemies into loyal allies. It literally has characters talking about Friendship Power as an actual source of strength, and it’s such a big deal that the Perfect Origin Arc opening theme (by the band FLOW) has lyrics that go “Friendship Power! Super Muscle!” But as much as its influential tropes are taken for granted nowadays, that doesn’t necessarily mean Kinnikuman is eclipsed by its many descendants. It actually doesn’t matter how many shounen works you’ve experienced over the years; nothing actually prepares you for the Calvinball-esque nature of Kinnikuman.
For example, something that is incredibly hard to tell is whether a character is meant to be a serious winner or a comic relief jobber, not least of which is because sometimes you have comic relief winners and serious jobbers. Is that muscular dalmatian man a bigger threat than that giant baby? Who can know? Regardless of wins and losses, it can be rather surprising who the most compelling characters are.
The battle logic is equally ridiculous and unpredictable. If you’re accustomed to the outwitting/out powering one-upmanship of other Jump titles, Kinnikuman has a more raw version that will twist itself into any and every shape. Logic is a game of improv, and it manifests in supremely goofy yet dramatically engaging storytelling.
Getting into Kinnikuman this late isn’t really an issue like jumping into a much later arc of One Piece might be. However, that’s simply because starting from the beginning wouldn’t make much of a difference. In fact, it might be even worse because the emphasis on pro wrestling wasn’t even there from the start. Instead, viewers can suicide dive right into a world where the 80s never really left, where one wrestler is a giant cassette player, and Spinning Toeholds are the most awesome thing ever. And if you want to see the actual Muscle Buster, watching the Perfect Origin Arc is the easiest way to do so.
Look Back is a one-shot manga by Fujimoto Tatsuki, author of Chainsaw Man. It’s an excellent work about a young girl driven by a love of drawing and petty jealousy, and it was recently adapted into a beautiful film that does the source material justice. I’d rather not spoil Look Back, so I highly recommend anyone go check it out, but I also think it’s a very accessible work that can help those who are skeptical towards or hesitant to look at Chainsaw Man in understanding Fujimoto as a creator.
I find Chainsaw Man to be one of the best things to come out of manga in the past five or so years, but I understand well that its reputation and image can be off-putting. Between the less-than-noble hero, the gore, and the amount of fans who want to call Makima “Mommy,” Chainsaw Man can appear on the surface to be rather paper-thin and rely too much on gratuitous violence and sex appeal.
But Look Back is about as far removed from that kind of content as you can get, and consequently makes it crystal clear that Fujimoto is a very capable and compelling storyteller. While Chainsaw Man is indeed generally grotesque in a variety of ways, it doesn’t use those things to cover up other deficiencies. What both works have in common is interesting characters with a lot of actual mottled grayness and depth to the their shallowness (and vice versa), as well as the continuous upheaval of expectations. It’s just that Look Back is something of a cleaner package that feels more down-to-Earth.
So if you’re someone who’s felt like Chainsaw Man isn’t for you, you might very well be right. But even if you are, I think Look Back can help to clear up some of the misconceptions about Fujimoto’s work in general, and can provide a path to appreciating the author’s violent mega-hit as well.
When I visited Japan’s Railway Museum last year, I wasn’t able to eat at the museum itself. However, I did stop by the gift shop, where they were selling two different kinds of instant curry! I brought them home with me, and now I’m here to give my report.
The first item is the Shinkansen Nostalgic Beef Curry, meant to replicate the actual curry served on the Shinkansen for decades before the dish was retired in the 2000s. It’s also something you can order at the aforementioned museum restaurant.
I was pleased with the flavor—while it’s not the best curry I’ve ever had, it definitely ranks very high among microwaveable versions. The curry didn’t taste artificial at all, and it even had a surprising kick, especially given that Japanese food tends to shy away from spiciness.
The second item is the Beef Tongue Tasty Curry, which advertises itself as using 30 different spices.
This one was noticeably less spicy than the Shinkansen Curry, though the key ingredient, the tongue, gave it an interesting depth of flavor. While the package didn’t have a ton of meat in it, the amount was still pretty substantial, and it had visible slices of beef tongue. Once again, I came away satisfied.
(Broccoli not included).
Overall, I think they were fine purchases. I just hope I can go back to the museum and try the real deal someday.
Last year, I started reading Hunter x Hunter by Togashi Yoshihiro. Its reputation was known to me: I had often seen people online (and even sometimes offline) mention it as their favorite series and an example of what shounen battle manga could be. My early impression was mixed because it felt like a Test into another Test into Training into a Tournament into More Training, and it made me feel like what lied ahead was an endless string of tournament arcs. The fact that Togashi’s other famous manga (YuYu Hakusho) was home to some of the most well-known tournament arcs added to this hunch.
Turns out that I was off the mark. Hunter x Hunter is indeed a shounen battle manga with world building and a convoluted power system (“nen”) that seems especially vulnerable to ass-pulls, but what I eventually came to realize is that it’s all about setting up a world where Togashi can do whatever he wants.
Creating and identifying forgeries at an underground auction. A card game inside a game world. An all-out battle against mutant insects. The job of “hunter” and the role of nen are intentionally open-ended, and can be bent to fit any scenario or situation. Hunter x Hunter can basically change subgenres on a regular basis, and it all counts as part of the greater work. However, it takes a seriously good manga artist and storyteller with a specific kind of versatile imagination to pull this off well. While there are many great manga creators, it’s hard to think of another who could do what Togashi does.
One of the drawbacks as a result is that the wildly different story arcs usually start off with a ridiculous amount of exposition—the kind that made me always think, “What the hell are you trying this time?” But the reason this happens is because Togashi is basically pulling out a new instruction manual for a new board game every time, and it’s one of those modern games that you can’t fully appreciate until you know the ins and outs. He’s essentially meticulously setting up the pieces, and once you see how the entire board moves, it becomes a riveting experience. Nevertheless, it still requires you to go through it with some patience.
I ended up finishing the Chimera Ant arc, which I kept seeing people praise most often, with some even calling it the greatest arc in a shounen series (and possibly any series) ever. I don’t know if I agree, but I think there’s a solid argument for it, especially in the way it manages to embrace the orthodoxy of standard battle manga but also defy expectations. The arc is the most reminiscent of Dragon Ball of anything in Hunter x Hunter, even having a villain cut from the same aesthetic cloth as Freeza and Cell, but the entire saga taken as a whole makes for some powerful and poignant human drama.
Because I read Hunter x Hunter over the course of a single year, I did not have to experience the delays that occurred while it was being serialized due to Togashi’s poor health that leaves him at times completely debilitated. This inevitably changes my impression of the series compared to someone who read the series in real time. Despite that, I can easily see why Togashi has his loyal following that sticks with him through all the challenges he faces.
A few months ago, in the wake of Toriyama Akira’s passing, I saw some comments on social media asking why Togashi can’t get others to take over Hunter x Hunter for him. The fan response was largely an adamant refusal—no matter how rare the chapters have become, it just wouldn’t be the same without him at the helm. I can appreciate this sentiment because we’ve seen plenty of cases of creative works falling apart in the wrong hands, even if those hands are well-intentioned. Togashi’s sheer versatility while still adhering to the spirit of shounen feels nigh-impossible to replicate, and it makes Hunter x Hunter a work unlike any other.
Last year, I got the chance to interview Tanaka Rie, the voice of Lacus Clyne in Gundam SEED. She mentioned to me that there were certain answers I could not record, and I wondered why. Not long after, the Gundam SEED Freedom movie was announced, and I realized that it was the reason why Tanaka couldn’t say as much as she might have wanted to.
Receiving the news about the film, I felt rather ambivalent. That’s because my feelings towards the SEED franchise are rather mixed. I adored the original Gundam SEED. Not long after, I was actually living in Japan while Gundam SEED Destiny was on TV. I was such a fan of the first seriesthat when SEED Destiny was airing, I would make sure to be in front of the TV every Sunday evening so I could catch it. I remember once leaving a group of friends to not miss an episode, and one other time frantically biking to get back home. And in those early days, I really felt the show was exceeding my expectations, as I wondered where all its hints and plot threads would lead.
Then came one disappointment after the next, and my opinion of it soured accordingly. Worst of all was the way SEED Destiny treated my favorite character, fiery tomboy Cagalli Yula Athha, into a constant whimpering mess. Her relationship drama with her partner, Athrun Zala, felt contrived and an insult to what they had built up in SEED. The ending was a mess that felt rushed and made all the characters look terrible—even the franchise protagonist Kiara Yamato and his romantic interest Lacus Clyne, who came across as too perfect. There were some supplementary endings to make up for the rushed finale, but it was too little, too late.
To this day, I will say I’m a fan of just SEED (and the manga Gundam SEED Astray, but let’s leave that aside). So with Gundam SEED Freedom, I couldn’t help but feel apprehensive: How much would it be SEED and how much would it be Destiny?
To my relief, it turns out to be a solid movie that repairs some of the damage caused by its predecessor, and reminds me enough of what made SEED good while also avoiding being a complete nostalgia grab.
Plot
Gundam SEED Freedom takes place not long after the end of SEED Destiny. After having stopped the machinations of political leader Gilbert Dullindal, which involved basically eugenics and a giant space laser (of course), Kira and Lacus have formed an independent peacekeeping force called COMPASS. Among their ranks are even SEED Destiny characters (and former foes) Shinn Asuka and Lunamaria Hawke. Despite winning a crucial (and lethal) victory against Dullindal, humanity is not at peace, and the tensions between Naturals and genetically engineered Coordinators continues to be inflamed by extremist groups. Amid this ongoing turmoil, a small nation called Foundation emerges as a potential ally of COMPASS. When Lacus meets with its leaders, she feels an unusual and entrancing connection to Orphee Lam Tao, one of the country’s elite Black Knights, all of whom are a new type of human called Accords, with abilities surpassing even Coordinators. Machinations behind the scenes put COMPASS in danger, with Kira ending up a scapegoat amid battle.
Playing to SEED’s Strengths
SEED Freedom is primarily centered around Kira and Lacus, and this is not a bad thing. Especially in Destiny, this main couple of the franchise could feel weirdly distant and robotic. But here, the pressure each faces in their respective roles as fighter and politician are shown to create tension and even a few insecurities. This doesn’t mean that SEED Freedom is contrived in its melodrama, but rather that the two are shown to have moments of real weakness that make them feel human on a level that even the original person SEED doesn’t always reach. It’s a good supporting foundation for the film as a whole.
Character Designs
I want to address one concern I had about the film: the character designs. In the promotional material. A lot of the new characters seem to have mildly bizarre strange proportions, like their heads are a tad too big or their legs a little too short. All the girls for some reason now have extra pouty lips, even then they weren’t like that originally. I wondered if these changes would be distracting, but either they’re not as bad as I thought, or the other elements of the movie distracted me enough to not notice it as much.
SPOILER SECTION
A lot of the more interesting parts occur in the second half of the movie. So from here, it’s going to be spoilers. Be warned!
The VIllains Are Walking Right-Wing Memes
The Accords are (unsurprisingly) the main antagonistic force of SEED Freedom, and I find their role in the story fairly intriguing. They are the main proponents of restoring the Destiny Plan (i.e. space eugenics), and their reasoning and justifications end up feeling (perhaps unintentionally) like talking points from right-wing manosphere-esque communities. While created to be superior in every way, they can’t wrap their heads around the fact that being designed for specific roles in life doesn’t automatically mean that others have to play along. Orphee in particular was meant from birth to be Lacus’s ideal partner, and the fact that she rejects him for someone “inferior” in Kira bedevils him to the point of obsession.
(As an aside, I find it funny that this obsession with perfection and intolerance towards any sort of failure is very similar to the Perfect Choujin, the villains of the recent Kinnikuman anime.)
The very idea that someone might have an “unideal” partner, or devote their lives to something they’re not inherently talented at, bothers the Accords. When Orphee exclaims that Lacus is supposed to love him, it’s a sentiment cut from the same cloth as nonsensical beliefs about alpha, beta, and sigma males; angry incel notions of relationships (or lack thereof) as genetic inevitabilities; and other weird nonsense. The movie indirectly hits back at all this, especially in a key line by Lacus: “You don’t love people because you need them, you need people because you love them.”
Character Un-Assassinations
Another welcome part of the film is that a lot of it seems to be devoted to salvaging characters who were made to be rather pathetic in SEED Destiny. This is especially the case for Athrun and Cagalli, who aren’t as prominent in the movie but impact the narrative in their own ways that restore what made them great.
Athrun makes a big splash in his first appearance in a Z’Gok, which is later revealed to have the Infinite Justice Gundam inside, not unlike the Black Sarena from Nadesico: The Prince of Darkness. He’s the only one who can knock some sense into a distraught Kira, emphasizing their enduring friendship. Cagalli is portrayed as a bit overwhelmed by the current situation but still firmly in charge and capable as the young leader of a small nation, far from the crying mess she was in SEED Destiny. Their relationship seems to be one where they’re often not able to be physically together but are connected through their feelings, and that’s more than enough. The movie even literally has a scene where they’re working together long-distance in battle to thwart the mind-reading powers of an opponent by having Cagalli remotely pilot the Infinite Justice. They’re shown to be capable and reliable friends individually, and clearly full of love for each other as a couple.
Even Shinn is shown to have less of a chip on his shoulder, but in a way that still shows him as endearingly hotheaded. When the Accords try to read Shinn’s mind and are greeted with a monstrous(ly protective) ghost of Stellar (Shinn’s starcrossed lover who died in SEED Destiny), they basically recoil over the fact that Shinn’s angsty darkness is too angsty and dark for them to handle. It’s perfect in a way.
Other character appearances in the movie can feel like fanservice in the sense that the work is often saying, “Remember this person? Aren’t they great?” but it’s a form of fanservice I welcome. One of SEED’s strengths is its portrayal of character relationships, and it collectively feels like a return to form for the franchise as a whole.
(There’s also a bit of actual fanservice. In fact, one joke I made about the movie while watching was to exaggeratedly call it “Gundam SEED Freedom: Godannar Season 3” in reference to a particular Lacus scene.)
(I also called it “Oops, All Sciroccos” due to the seductive nature of the Accords.)
Cool Robots Fighting
While this doesn’t play a huge factor in my assessment of the movie, I do want to say that the mobile suit combat in this film is excellent. It’s not just a matter of good animation or crisp action scenes, but rather the fact that SEED Freedom really incorporates the fantastical and technical parts of its mecha lore into satisfying moments. Whether it’s giving everyone even more ridiculous backpacks, the Infinite Justice chopping an enemy in half with its head-mounted beam saber, or Shinn being at full strength in the Destiny Gundam when he can go full “no thoughts, head empty,” a lot of moments just work. And the Mighty Strike Freedom at the climax is the peak of all that excess.
SPOILER SECTION OVER
Final Thoughts
I’m glad Gundam SEED Freedom happened, even if it took forever to get here. And I would gladly allow the franchise to ride off into the sunset, only it turns out that they’re doing two additional epilogues that they’re going to air in theaters.
Ever since the original Mobile Suit Gundam, works in the Gundam franchisehave tended to end in space. Whether it’s a sequel or an alternate universe, they typically leave the confines of Earth for a big battle among the stars. But Gundam: Reconguista in G is different: It starts on Earth, has its characters venture into space, and then returns home for the final battle. This is where we find the characters in the fifth and final movie, Crossing the Line Between Life and Death, and I think the decision to conclude the series there ends up emphasizing all the messages laid through G-Reco from the beginning. Whether those messages are clearly conveyed is another matter.
Bellri Zenam and the rest of the main cast have been to the far-off Venus Globe, the collection of space colonies near Venus. They saw a society far removed from the ravages of Earth, where people are taught that war is barbaric, but who sometimes fail to see the latent barbarism in themselves. Having gone back through Towasanga on the far side of the moon, they now are in Earth’s orbit where, once again, the different terrestrial supernations are all vying for control of resources. At this point, characters and groups have switched sides so many times that it can be difficult to keep track of who’s fighting for what, but that’s less important than the simple reality that factionalism still persists. Bellri, Aida, and the others aim to head their own direction and fight their own way, neither entirely separate nor fully entrenched in any one side.
There’s one scene in particular that I think encapsulates the final film and the series as a whole: As the various forces battle in Earth’s orbit, they’re forced to undergo atmospheric entry. It’s a return to one of the more iconic scenes from the original Gundam, where rival character Char Aznable has to give the unfortunate news to one of his troops that the poor guy and his ill-equipped mecha have gotten too close to the planet and their death is inevitable. We see history repeat itself as various characters have to decide what to prioritize (attempting a safe landing, trying to get an upper hand in battle, retreating, etc.), and it feels like the folly and hope of humanity both never die.
Speaking of death, there is no shortage of lives lost. Some are more fascinating to me, like a certain character who might have actually been a Newtype. The important thing is that this person is also a dumbass, as if to say that we shouldn’t worship Newtypes or anyone who’s supposedly the next evolution of humanity and its savior. The biggest death is also so unceremonious and kind of random that it feels very fitting—a warmonger hoisted by his own petard.
One major change from the TV series is the actual epilogue, which has been expanded greatly. The new scenes emphasize the fact that changes come only in bits and pieces. Human beings, whether born on Earth or in space, seem to adapt to their circumstances, and beliefs don’t just change overnight. On top of that, many of the characters are young, so while they may have fought in many life-or-death battles, that doesn’t have to fully define who they are or will be. The ultimate message might be that people, but especially those still possessing youth, can break through all the entrenched barriers that previous generations have erected.
In looking at the Gundam: Reconguista in G movies in total, it’s safe to say that they should be the definitive way to experience the series. It clarifies and expands on the TV anime, is better paced, and just conveys more of the world and its complexities. G-Reco is able to show itself in the best light, and for those who dismissed it the first time, I think this is a great opportunity to experience one of the most unique entries in Gundam.
Creating a story with a good antihero lead can be a challenge. It’s all too easy to end up with a character who’s more of a shallow reactionary and whose only redeeming value is that they do bad stuff to worse people. Other times, they come across as a simple conduit for revenge fantasies against grievances. But Go! Go! Loser Ranger succeeds by establishing its antihero firmly and then having him discover a personal sense of conviction that even he isn’t fully aware of.
The backstory of Go! Go! Loser Ranger starts off like a typical sentai series: Years ago, a group of heroes called the Dragon Keepers defeated an evil organization that tried to conquer the surface world. The only remnants were the basic goons that typically attack the heroes in large numbers and get their asses handed to them before the real villains show up. Now, they’re forced into a pro wrestling–esque kayfabe where they pretend to fight every week in front of a stadium audience, not unlike the shows that take place on mall rooftops in Japan. But one mook, Fighter D, refuses to let his monster pride fade away. Despite the odds, he wants to fight back for real against the Dragon Keepers, and maybe even get revenge for all the humiliation they’ve inflicted.
In Power Rangers terms, this is basically “What if a Putty was the protagonist? And it ends up working really well, not only because it’s an interesting premise but because it’s not content to just flip the roles and leave it at “bad is good and good is bad.” Sure, the Dragon Keepers feel like they’d fit in with the highly dubious capes of Alan Moore’s Watchmen, and the generic Fighters are portrayed with lots of personality. There are a lot of gray characters in this series, and not in a boring or predictable way.
What I think holds it all together is that Fighter D is a perpetual underdog whose only skills are that he’s hard to kill and he can engage in a degree of subterfuge by changing shape. He’s not the ultra-powerful badass but someone who has to win through wits and creativity. He has to use his head, and this thoughtfulness (albeit colored by the huge chip on his shoulder) is one of the key factors for what makes Fighter D a compelling protagonist.
One key aspect of Fighter D is that his core beliefs aren’t quite what he thinks they are. He assumes that his sense of worth comes from being a loyal foot soldier who carries on the legacy of his evil masters. But as the events of the series unfold, it becomes clear that what drives Fighter D is a desire for him and his fellow goons to be treated with respect and value. He simply conflated one with the other, and this confusion leads to some great developments.
Go! Go! Loser Ranger ends up being a series that defies expectations, and it all centers around a weakling challenging the strong, albeit for less than noble causes. But while Fighter D is not a paragon of virtue, he is at least a sentient being looking to carve his place in the world. I’m curious to see what heights (and depths) he reaches next.
OGIUE MANIAX 