I once read a review of The Straight Story, describing it as David Lynch’s most Lynch-esque film simply because it was so atypical of the director’s typical work (not to mention the fact that it came out on Disney).  I suppose the same could be said of The Bird People In China.  Directed by Takashi Miike, who is notorious for the his films’ ultra-violence and copious bodily fluids, The Bird People is completely unlike his other work—an atmospheric, wistful modern-day fantasy tale.

Wada is a harried Japanese businessman sent to a remote Chinese village to investigate a jade mine.  Tagging along is a surly yakuza named Ujiie (this is a Miike film, after all) and their slightly addled guide, Shen.  As they make their way to the village, leaving the modern world behind, they find themselves drawn to the simpler, quieter life and into a mystery surrounding a young girl who is teaching the village’s children how to fly.

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If you watch any of the “Making Of” featurettes on the Samurai Fiction DVD, you’ll probably hear the words “cool”, “funky”, and/or “peaceful” mentioned more than once by the narrator as he describes the film.  Naturally, most people probably don’t associate those words with samurai movies.  But then again, Samurai Fiction is not your typical samurai movie.

While it certainly has one eye focused squarely on the conventions of samurai (chambara) cinema, it also has one eye focused on modern audiences.  As such, the movie is an exciting and eminently enjoyable postmodern pastiche of classic Japanese film archetypes and MTV-generation style and wit.  And what’s perhaps most amazing is that it’s done so in a way that’s both very respectful of the former and highly accessible for the latter.

The plot is simple enough.  A ronin (masterless samurai) named Kazamatsuri has stolen the ceremonial sword of the Inukai clan.  Without that sword, a gift from the Shogun, the clan stands to lose quite a bit of honor, and might even be dissolved (or worse).  Frantic, the clan orders a replica to be made, in hopes of fooling the Shogun.  However, the son of a clan official, Heishiro, is appalled by the clan’s course of action, and vows to kill Kazamatsuri and retrieve the sword.  With his two childhood friends in tow, the brash young samurai heads off in pursuit of the ronin.

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Regardless of whatever is going on in my life, whatever topsy-turvy state of affairs the world is in, I know I can rely on His And Her Circumstances.  It’s been a few months since I watched the previous volume, but as soon as the theme song came on, with its mention of angelic pinky promises and whatnot, I found myself immediately caught up in the spirit of the series.  Even though some fans of the series might gripe at the contents of this disc, since 2 of the 5 episodes are essentially glorified flashbacks, I don’t really care.  As far as I’m concerned, any new His And Her Circumstances is always a reason to celebrate.

The previous two discs in the series had focused almost exclusively on the developing relationship between Yukino Miyazawa, the most popular student at her high school, and Arima Souichirou, the student who challenged her position.  Both of them had struggled with keeping up appearances as model students.  Only when they met eachother were they able to drop their pretenses and be their true selves.  Much of the series emotion and charm derived from this, as they began to drop their guard while simultaneously falling in love.  Pretty heady stuff, but the series’ charm and humor always kept it from feeling like some overwrought teen drama on the WB network.

However, at the close of Disc 2, the school year had come to an end and the young lovers found themselves separated as Arima left for kendo school.  But over the course of the disc, Yukino had begun to develop friends for the first time in her life, and now she’s decided to make up for lost time.  It’s these relationships that are explored throughout Volume 3.  In fact, Yukino often feels relegated to cameo status on this disc as the attention shifts to those around her.

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Remember a few years back when it seemed like a new Jackie Chan movie was coming to the theatres every other week? Ah… the good old days. It was what the American moviegoing masses needed. Action movies that stressed the action, not the musclebound egos or fake stunts or special effects. Real action. And Jackie gave it to us, every time. So why then, wasn’t Who Am I? released to the movie theatres?

Easily one of the best of Chan’s recent films, there’s a cohesive plot and the fight scenes are among the best Chan’s ever done. Chan plays a member of an elite special forces unit (is there ever any other kind?) assigned to kidnap three scientists who’ve discovered a new energy source. Of course, the mission goes awry and Chan loses his memory (hence the title). Chan tries to regain his memory, and gets mixed up with a journalist who may or may not be telling the truth (surprise).

But those are all insignificant, because Jackie knows what you want to see… fights and outrageous stunts. And the Chanster doesn’t disappoint. I don’t know if we’re sadists for watching Jackie put his life in danger with every film, or if he’s a masochist to keep doing it time after time. I suspect it’s a little bit of both.

Watch Chan defy gravity and the normal limits of the human body as he battles opponents in a pair of wooden shoes, dodging traffic and rescuing small dogs. Or watch him battle two men atop a skyscraper, nearly falling to his death, and eventually careening down one side in a mad tumble. Watch everyday items become lethal, albeit humorous weapons when they land in Jackie’s hands. Oh yes, it’s all there.

And people wonder why I hate American action films… Chan makes it look so easy, and his happy-go-lucky slapstick buffoonery is there too. Ah Jackie… when will the masses see the light???

When we last left Yukino and Arima, they were finally getting their relationship off the ground.  The first disc found them slowly letting down the facades they’d been building up over the years, revealing their true selves to eachother in scenes that were, by turns hilarious, goofy, freaky, and quite moving.  The first disc found them battling with eachother, as Yukino and Arima both sought the upper hand until they realized that the only answer was to be true to themselves.  With that confidence, they plunge into their relationship headfirst.

But alas, high school is never that easy.  While the first disc looked at the struggles that Yukino and Arima had to overcome between eachother, disc 2 (“Love And War Under The Cherry Blossoms”) looks at the bigger picture.  The young couple now has to endure more pressures and consequences in their search for true love.

Now if you were a young couple newly in love, studying would be the last thing on your mind, and so it is for Yukino and Arima.  Normally this wouldn’t be a big deal, but this is Japan.  One’s performance in high school determines their social standing, the college they’ll attend, the job they’ll receive… in short, their ultimate worth in life depends on those few years.  Making matters even worse is that Yukino and Arima are the top students in the class, the brains that everyone else in the school relies on for help with their studies.

When it’s revealed that both of them have slipped in their grades (Yukino falls all the way to *gasp* 13th!), they’re not the only ones who are shocked.  The school officials express concern, demanding the two stop seeing eachother and focus on their studies.  The young lovers refuse, determined to prove that they can be both a couple and good students.

In a final effort, the school brings in the couple’s parents for a little conference.  This mortifies Yukino since her family is a little on the dysfunctional side.  Not Jerry Springer dysfunctional, but definitely not the dignified, proper family Yukino wishes they were.  This sets up a hilarious episode where Yukino’s parents plot to take on the faculty, only to shock Yukino with their final reaction.

But that’s only the first crisis.  The second is far worse; it’s easy to rebel against the adults, but what happens when all of your peers turn on you?  Although the rest of Yukino’s classmates are jealous of her for dating the dreamiest guy in school, they still like her because of her classy demeanor, intelligence, and eagerness to help.  That’s put to the test when Maho, a girl tired of always living in Yukino’s shadow, discovers that it’s all been an act.  Maho slowly plants suspicion in the minds of the other girls until, as a group, they completely shut out Yukino.

Here is where you begin to see how much Yukino has changed as a person.  Although she’s still a little girl capable of being quite dippy at times (usually around Arima), she understands why the girls have begun treating her so.  While in the past she helped them because she wanted their adoration, she now genuinely desires to be their friend and resolves to put things right.

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All I know is that my curiosity was piqued.  That the creators of series like Neon Genesis Evangelion and Gunbuster would be tackling a high school romantic comedy based on a popular girl’s comic… well, how could I not be interested?  After having finished the whole Evangelion saga, I felt pretty sure I was in for something special and unexpected.  In fact, I was expecting it.  If anyone could turn a seemingly mundane teen romance story (really, how many of these have we seen by now?) into something interesting, my money was on GAINAX.

His And Her Circumstances centers on two very distinct and unusual characters, set against a complex web of relationships that could only take place in high school.  Yukino Miyazawa is the most popular and well-liked girl at Houkuei High.  The professors praise her academic skills, the students her good looks and modest demeanor.  However, it’s all a facade; in reality, Yukino is a shallow girl that exists for the praise of others.  At school, Yukino is smart, attractive, and graceful; at home, she’s a complete snob more interested in her grades and school activities than spending time with her family.

However, all of her efforts are for naught when Arima Souichiro arrives on the scene.  He seems even more perfect than Yukino and quickly becomes the center of attention.  Without even knowing anything about him, Yukino decides to crush Arima’s achievements.  Unfortunately, her plan backfires when Arima discovers the truth about Yukino’s slovenly nature outside of school.  Arima turns this to his advantage, blackmailing Yukino into doing his schoolwork to get back at her.  Or maybe he’s doing it for another reason.

The two rivals grow closer to eachother without even realizing it.  Their facades begin to crack, and Yukino discovers that Arima has a secret of his own.  Afraid that he might turn out like his abusive parents, and determined not to disgrace the rest of his family, Arima has been grooming a perfect exterior as well.  As their relationship deepens, the two begin to open up to eachother, relieved that they’ve found someone else with whom they can be totally honest.  Unfortunately, this isn’t an easy process when you’re in high school, with rumors and jealousies aplenty.

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Thanks to certain series, as well as America’s preconceived notions when it comes to cartoons, it’s safe to say that most people consider Japanese animation to be mere kids stuff.  In fact, I’m often loathe to talk about my love for anime, lest I have to put up with the endless Dragonball Z and Pokémon jokes.  But on the other hand, if I were to show a series like Gasaraki to most people, they’d probably quickly get bored or disinterested with its complex web of political and military conspiracies, Japanese mysticism, and secret societies.  And to be honest, I’m not sure if I’d blame them.

Gasaraki begins on a strong note, with Yushiro Gowa.  First of all, he’s the best pilot in a top-secret military project testing new battlesuits (called “Tactical Armors”).  He’s also the youngest son of the Gowa family, one of Japan’s most powerful families.  But the Gowas seem to have their own agenda for Yushiro, which involve him participating in ancient Japanese rituals bent on tapping into some unknown power.  At the height of the ceremony, Yushiro has a vision of a young woman warning him of impending doom, and then attacking him.  Shaken by this, Yushiro ends the ceremony, breaking off contact with the power.

Before Yushiro can fully recover, however, his Tactical Armor (TA) unit is shipped off to the nation of Belgistan, supposedly under the auspices of investigating Belgistan’s tests of a new weapon.  While getting mixed up in the political situation there, he encounters Miharu, the young woman in his vision.  Miharu is a TA pilot for Symbol, a mysterious group working behind the scenes to control world events.  Realizing that both he and Miharu have a common connection, Yushiro rescues her and returns to Japan.

Whilst in Japan, their connection becomes much more involved as they realize their history together, one that might stretch back centuries.  But both Symbol and the Gowa family refuse to let their prizes go, and constantly hound the couple.  Meanwhile, the world’s economies are growing far more unstable.  A political faction in Japan begins to move, hoping to work Japan’s increasing unrest to their own goals (which are murky at best).

As the series goes along, it becomes increasingly complex, almost too much so.  You can’t accuse Toru Nozaki of taking the easy way out, but at the same time, the conspiracies and political events grow so complex that it always feels like some crucial piece is missing.  At times, whole stories are left behind (usually right when they’re getting interesting) for the latest Gowa plot or Symbol conspiracy.  Also, the series seems to forget all about Yushiro and Miharu at times (even though they supposedly hold the key to everything).  And it only hints at the powerful forces that lie behind the Gowa clan and its history.

On the other hand, this does introduce us to a wide cast of characters, from the other members of the Gowa family to Yushiro’s comrades in his TA group.  Thankfully, many of these characters are fleshed out, with their own desires and motives.  However, this is also a double-edged sword, making it harder to keep track of just what everyone is up to and where everyone’s allegiance lies.  This is especially so in the second half of the series, where the focus suddenly shifts from Belgistan to Japan and its economic and political upheavals.

One thing, however, that the series does right is the animation.  This is a highly-detailed series, from the character designs to the mecha combat.  In fact, the first thing I ever saw of Gasaraki was a print ad in some gaming magazine featuring Yushiro and Miharu.  I don’t remember anything that the ad said, but the lovely character designs stuck with me until I was finally able to track down more info about the series (and this was a few years ago).

In the mecha department, Gasaraki might disappoint those weaned on Gundam and its endless incarnations.  Gasaraki takes a more realistic line, with TAs (or “Fakes”, as they’re called by Symbol) that look like they actually could roll off the assembly line in the near future.  Then there’s the mecha combat.  Compared to the insane battle of Evangelion and the graceful duels of Macross Plus, the mechas in Gasaraki look downright clumsy.  And you won’t find the TAs in glorious battles defending Tokyo from the latest alien hordes.  Rather, the series puts them in more “real world” scenarious, such as urban combat and riot control, trading nail-biting action for realism.

Actually, the series pursues realism nearly to a fault.  The series’ creators include scenarios that feel like they were lifted right out of a CNN newscast (or a Tom Clancy novel); economic embargoes, worldwide grain shortages, and the like.  These do lend credence to what occurs in the anime, but it also leaves the anime feeling a bit, well, dry.  Worse, it tends to trivialize the more obscure, mystical elements of Gasaraki, which are explored in the series’ early moments, only to be relegated to the back burner for much of the series.

After the true connection between Yushiro and Miharu is finally explained (and which feels like a rather big deal), it’s all but forgotten when the series turns back to the conspiracies, foreign policies, and trade sanctions.  And when characters start talking about Japan’s plans to deal with her foreign troubles… well, I won’t give anything away, but I do wish I’d paid more attention in my Macroeconomics class in college.  And be prepared for exposition, lots of exposition, on topics ranging from Japan’s role in foreign events, Japan’s increasing social decay, and plenty of existential ponderings a la Neon Genesis Evangelion.

As the series rolls towards its conclusion, I had no idea how the creators were going to wrap things up.  And believe me, they tried.  However, due to the overwhelming abundance of plots and machinations, it feels rather anti-climactic.  Especially concerning Yushiro and Miharu, whose closure seems to receive rather short shrift.

Still, it’s hard to fault the creators for trying to be ambitious.  And in the field of “giant robot” series, it’s nice to see a series that tries hard to place giant robot combat within a real world context.  But the results feel lacking.  I can’t help but wondering if I somehow skipped an episode, one that had some crucial information I missed, info that would explain and enhance some of the series’ complexities.

I find myself wondering more about the Gowa family.  About the connection that Yushiro and Miharu have with the kugai.  About their roles as kai.  About just what the heck Gasaraki means.  I find myself wondering more about those things than all of the series’ other plots combined, regardless of how realistic they might be.  I’m left wondering because the nice neat little explanation I got just doesn’t satisfy me.  And I guess that sentiment might have to go for the whole series as well.  Such a shame, because I wanted it to be so much more.  It really could’ve been so much more.

Sometimes, it’s tempting to say that anime is too highbrow for most people.  On one hand, you’ve got the existentialism of Neon Genesis Evangelion and movies like Akira, where it seems like the big robot battles and psychic combat is overshadowed by lengthy discussions about the nature of existence and man’s place in the universe.  Or you’ve got the political and psychological themes of Jin-Roh, or the heavy mix of Japanese culture and environmental themes in something like Princess Mononoke.

Not that that’s a bad thing, mind you.  Quite the contrary, it’s one of the reasons why I love anime so much.  Here in the West, we have this concept that animation is only for kids, provided there are enough musical numbers and heavyhanded moralizing, or mindless toilet humor.  But when you watch something like Evangelion, and especially Hayao Miyazaki’s works, this philosophical complexity is often what makes it resonate so much.  But there are those times when you just want to see big explosions and even bigger guns, without all of that unnecessary stuff like character and plot.

Enter Spriggan, the Commando of the anime world, with an Indiana Jones twist.  Spriggan is truly at its best when it’s just a mindless action movie, complete with battlesuits, cyborgs with miniguns for arms, and, of course, big explosions.  It’s only when the plot deepens and some character depth is thrown into the film’s final quarter that it starts to lag.

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