Rewind: Black Lagoon

Black Lagoon is about a boring businessman who becomes a pirate. Not a One Piece-type pirate, but rather a more realistic, modern pirate who deals with scary crime syndicates.

I don't remember when I first watched Black Lagoon, but I remember why I like it: explosions, analytical main character, guns, some humor, fights, and general excitement. The main character, Rock, toughens up considerably throughout the series, although he never evolves into a gun-slinging strongman; that's Revy's role.

Meet Revy, the gunslinger that pulled Rock into the crime world. She
seems to be his opposite in every way: female, tough, bloodthirsty,
and less fond of clothes that cover a person's midriff. But her rough
character complements his analytical character very well. (pic from ep 1)

I think there's some rather interesting character development—I remember almost being impressed by some of Rock's dialogue. It's been too long to recall the details, though. And honestly? This anime isn't exactly profound.

As much as I enjoy the battles in Black Lagoon, not every aspect of this anime appeals to me. I can't write about it on this blog without a content warning. In addition to the swearing, violence, and crudeness, there are some seriously disturbing episodes, especially at the start of the second season (labeled The Second Barrage some places, but not so easily distinguished on Hulu).

I rewatched the first two episodes in order to get a screenshot. I forgot how fun this show can be, and I'd like to rewatch the entire first season. Unfortunately, I'm still way behind on other anime, and my Christmas break is quickly slipping away. I'll have to save this for another day.

Anime Secret Santa: Ikoku Meiro no Croisée

Merry Christmas, dear readers! For those of you who don't know, Alain and Kate of Reverse Thieves coordinate an Anime Secret Santa event for anibloggers every year. This is my first time participating.

My "Secret Santa" left me three great recommendations after looking at my Anime-Planet account. It would have been a hard choice. Thankfully, only Ikoku Meiro no Croisée (Croisée in a Foreign Labyrinth) was available through my usual anime sources. I hope to watch the other two eventually, but I'm glad I was "forced" to watch Croisée this time.

Claude and Yune enjoy an unplanned walk as the rain clears up
in episode 3.

Croisée has no explosions, no sports, no action, and practically no romance. It's simply a sweet show about a little Japanese girl, Yune, who has just moved to Paris in the early nineteenth century. She lives with Claude, a young blacksmith, and his grandpa, Oscar. Most of the show is set in their home and shop, or in the Galerie (sort of a mall) that their shop/home is part of. Over the show's twelve episodes, Claude and Yune work to understand and care for one another, despite their different value systems. Normally, I'd get bored and drop it after a few episodes. But I persevered for the sake of this review.

At first, I found little things to appreciate: the lovely artwork, the way characters learn about each other's cultures, etc. Then I noticed big themes emerging, including freedom. Finally, by the sixth episode, I noticed great use of symbolism. I went into nerdy English major mode at that point. Can't get excited about an anime in the normal way? Time for some good, intellectual fun! 

Croisée seems to be a simple anime about the meeting of two cultures. But it goes deeper than that and uses those cultural differences to reveal the ideas and structures that restrict one's freedom to move about and relate to others.

This theme really picks up in the fifth episode, "Lost." Claude encourages Yune to be free and do her own thing. He doesn't understand why she prefers to work with them in their shop instead. To him, freedom is independence, the ability to explore what you personally enjoy without constantly considering others. A little later in the episode, Claude restricts her freedom in how she relates to others. He is worried that she's too naive and explains that in Paris, people are suspicious of friendliness. If you're too friendly, customers will think you're trying to take advantage of them. Or, even worse, people will take advantage of you. He is specifically concerned about her kindness to a little street brat.

Claude's closed-off approach to people, as well as the way he prioritizes Yune over customers, confuses her. She explains that in Japan, a person cares for their customers first and foremost. She puzzles over the differences in the way they relate to people, and they way they define freedom. Freedom in the Galerie seems to mean one must neither meddle nor be to friendly.

Not much later, when Yune is watching the shop, the little street boy steals a candle holder. She blames herself and runs after him. Instead of finding him, she gets lost. After Claude's talk about friendly strangers, everyone in the Galerie seems scary. No one she approaches will talk to her, and anyone who does reach out to help frightens her away. When Claude finally finds her, he explains that not everyone is scary; people are simply cautious until you become a part of their circle. Yune makes a profound statement at the end. She notes that she restricted her own freedom when she predetermined that everyone is scary.

In the seventh episode, Yune says farewell to the little street boy.
She's trying to obey Claude without abruptly cutting her ties with
the child.

The little boy has no name, but he shows up repeatedly throughout the show. Yune wants to feed him and understand him. When he steals to pay for food, she sees his need—not just for food, but for a place to belong and a person to care—the same needs she feels. Claude, on the other hand, notes the need through the boy's appearance, and he sees only a thief. He wants to protect the store from theft, and protect Yune from any betrayal or disease the child brings. This clash of values is worth reflecting on. Claude seems callous at first, but I don't think we viewers should be too quick to judge. We should consider: do we see people as threats or as hearts? Are we driven by fear or by love?

The sixth episode, "Crinoline," examines the social restrictions through metaphor. A crinoline is the frame that women used to use to make their skirts ridiculously big. When Yune tries on one of her wealthy friend's dresses, the crinoline restricts her movements, and she has to skip the corset altogether. She notes that the crinoline looks like a birdcage. Her friend's older sister, Camille Blanche, says, "It really is like a birdcage." Later, it becomes clear that fashion isn't the only birdcage Camille feels. The crinoline makes it impossible for Yune to catch a cat. And as Camille looks out the window to see Claude, we begin to suspect that her birdcage keeps her from catching a different kind of cat.

The cat metaphor is continued in later episodes. Cats are used to explore freedom and relationships, including the fear of lost relationships. If I were writing about this for a literature class, I could write a short paper on the symbolism of cats alone, so I'd better cut myself off. In fact, I'd like to spend an entire post on the way different fears and cultural restrictions keep the characters from loving one another. I think I would benefit from reflecting on parallels in my own life and in the Church—meaning the entire body of the Christian family, including my local church. The idea of being free to love is, I think, foundational to how we relate to people both inside and outside the church family. But this is meant to be a more holistic review, so I'll take a moment to examine the other elements of this anime.

The art is beautiful. The settings, especially, have a watercolor texture. Fashion and artistic ironwork are shown in intricate detail. I wasn't surprised to find out that the original mangaka, Takeda Hinata, also created the Gosick Light Novels. I only watched part of the Gosick anime, and that a long time ago, but I can see similarities in the detailed Western fashion. The gentle, beautiful animation fits the series well. My only complaint might be the character faces; everyone looks the same age. Even Oscar, the grandfather, looks like a young man with a fake beard. But this is a fairly common trait in anime, and only worth passing mention.

The music is lovely, too. The opening and ending themes seem to be sung by a young, innocent girl, and they frame each episode perfectly. If you watch, make sure you continue watching through the ED—not only is the song pretty, but there is always an extra scene at the very end. You don't want to miss out on that.

I appreciate the characters as vehicles for exploring the anime's themes. But, at most, I only feel passing care for any of them. In fact, one of Yune's friends is downright annoying. Alice Blanche is a stereotypical spoiled rich girl. I've seen versions of her throughout many anime: high pitched voice, blonde hair, lack of consideration for others. At first, especially, she treats Yune almost like an object. As the anime goes on, she learns more about Yune and loses some of her spoiled ignorance... but only some. That said, Alice does become a vital part of the plot. Her facination with Japan, and thus with Yune, come from her childhood dreams. She wants to travel, and if she can't travel, she'll start with imagining and learning about other places as a way to escape her family's stifling way of life. She doesn't explicitly say most of that, but it is implied. Her story becomes interwoven with fantastic symbolism I wrote about above.

Again, as an English major, I found plenty to delight in throughout this show. In fact, to use a key phrase from literary criticism, Croisée in a Foreign Labyrinth both "delights and instructs." But it has faults. There are inconsistencies. Yune supposedly came to Paris for an apprenticeship, but she certainly doesn't seem like an apprentice to Claude. He doesn't try to teach her anything about blacksmithing. In fact, he doesn't like it when she watches him work. I don't know if "apprentice" is a mistranslation, or if it's just an excuse to get Yune to Paris. Either way, it has very little to do with the actual plot. She helps in the shop, yes, but only by cleaning and keeping an eye on things. She's not really learning a trade.

Yune and her older sister in a memory of Japan. I'm mostly including
this screenshot because it's so beautiful. (ep 11)

In addition, Oscar at first explains that Yune's parents think it's time for her to "leave the nest" and find and apprenticeship. She's always wanted to go to Paris, so she comes back with Oscar. Later, Claude wonders how her beloved older sister let her go. Further, Yune's memories of her sister taking care of her, and of her sister's problems as an outcast, leave her parents out of the picture. Really, of the four characters with backstories, Yune's backstory is the most unsteady.

Overall, Ikoku Meiro no Croisée is a pleasant anime. I think I'd have liked it a little more if I watched just one episode a week as it aired, instead of trying to watch it all in the last week and a half before Christmas. Plenty of amusing and sweet moments are sprinkled throughout the twelve episodes, and I smiled a lot. But it wasn't exciting... or rather, the only excitement I felt was that of a literary student, as I watched the symbolism and character threads come together. I waver between giving Ikoku Meiro no Croisée 3.5 or 4 stars out of 5. Since my enjoyment was mostly intellectual, and the story failed to sweep me away, I'm landing on 3.5 stars for now. Chances are high that I'll write another post about this show, but chances are low that I'll ever re-watch it. It's good, and if this review rouses your interest, I recommend you check it out. It's available on Hulu. But if, like me, you're not exactly a big slice-of-life anime fan, you might prefer to spend your time on something else.

[Edit: Justin of Organization Anti-Social Geniuses was my Secret Santa. Thank you, Justin, for the great recommendations! I hope to watch Rainbow (I can't remember the rest of the name) and Summer Wars eventually, since I think I'll prefer those, but this was all I could get ahold of for now.]

Rewind: Initial D Second Stage

I wrote about the first season of Initial D almost exactly a year ago. I didn't plan this post accordingly, but since I recently rewatched the "second stage," it's fresh in my mind. Last year, I mentioned that I received Initial D Second Stage as a Christmas gift, since I didn't realize it would eventually show up on Hulu. I'm thankful for my mistake; DVDs work a lot better than Hulu when the internet goes out.

Takumi usually has a very placid expression, even when racing,
but as he races a scornful opponent in the third episode, his
intensity shows on his face.

For those of you who don't know: Initial D centers around Fujiwara Takumi, a teenage street racer who specializes in downhill racing. His skill developed when he drove back and forth over the mountain pass to deliver tofu for his father's business. He didn't realize it at the time, but his father, a former street racer himself, was grooming him to be a racer. In the first season, the local racing team convinces him to start racing with them. They use the pass as their course, so Takumi is on familiar ground. He becomes well known by racers in the general area.

Just like with the first season, I enjoy Second Stage primarily for the races. Still, there are a few notable differences between seasons. I'll start with the positives: Takumi, the main character, meets challenges he can't overcome with the current state of his car, an old Toyota AE 86 Trueno. (The car is mostly referred to as an 86, not "eighty-six" but "Eight Six.") Takumi is forced to learn more about automechanics, whereas he relied primarily on experience and talent for victory before. His father continues to guide his growth as a racer, and he helps make changes to the car.

Other differences, I'm not so happy with. There is a big change in animation between the first and second seasons. Granted, the art wasn't exactly pretty before, and the new look is... shinier, I guess. It's probably supposed to be better. But there are a few characters who almost look like different people. One of the Takumi's most respectable opponents, Ryosuke, even has a different hair color, and I don't think it's because he picked up a package of hair dye. His whole appearance is off.

And then there's the romance piece... In the first season, Takumi grew close with Mogi Natsuki, a girl he knew from school. In Second Stage, they still have feelings for each other. However, an anonymous busybody tells Takumi a secret about Natsuki. He deals with the news like the clumsy teenager he is. This part is executed decently, I admit, but I don't enjoy it.

Despite all my negative comments, I've watched Initial D: Second Stage three times now, and I continue to enjoy it. I can't bear to give the season less than four stars out of five. Takumi's development as a racer is fun to watch, and I've grown fond of a few of the secondary characters as well.

Rewind: One Week Friends

One Week Friends, or Isshuukan Friends, is a gentle drama about friendship. The main girl, Fujimiya Kaori, can't remember any of her friends for longer than a week. Her memory resets every Monday. Still, the gently heroic protagonist, Hase Yuuki, is determined to be friends with her. 

For the second Monday in a row, Hase asks Fujimiya to be his friend. (ep 1)

It sounds slow and potentially overdramatic. That selective memory loss premise is borderline ridiculous, right? But I noticed a few people talking about it online, so I gave it a try. 

I watched most of the episodes on my phone, often during lunch breaks at my summer job, or in bed right before sleep. It was the perfect show for breaks: I was interested, but I didn't care quite enough to wish I had a bigger screen.

The plot wasn't thrilling, but I couldn't help but care for the characters. Hase-kun chose to be friends with Fujimiya, even knowing that he would have to introduce himself again the following Monday. Fujimiya was a sweetheart who spent hours in the kitchen to find out exactly how much sugar Hase liked in his eggs (yes, sugar... maybe it's a Japanese thing). And Hase's friend, the aloof Kiryuu, easily won me over. He seemed introverted (which I identified with, of course), but he gave great friendship advice to Hase as needed. 

In One Week Friends, Hase and Fujimiya explore what it means to be friends. It can be a little painful at times—they are, after all, awkward teenagers exploring friendship, and Fujimiya's memory loss complicates matters even more. But it's worth it for them, and it was worth it for me to watch. I'm getting better at this whole friendship thing (thank the Lord for college!). Still... I may or may not take mental notes when I see a good example of friendship, whether it's fictional or real. 

That's pretty much all I have to say. If you watch One Week Friends, take note of the visuals—the edges are always slightly faded out, which adds to the gentle feeling. I gave it 4.5 out of 5 stars: it's a pleasant watch without glaring faults, but not a favorite. 

Hints of the Eternal Story in Gungrave

Dead week is ending, finals are coming, and I'm more Swamped than ever. Thankfully, a little over a month ago, I had a chance to center my homework around Gungrave, my favorite anime. We were to write a brief paper about how something from pop culture reflected truths about God's story. I'm changing some wording to fit this blog's audience better, but other than that, I'm pretty much posting the paper as-is. And adding screenshots.

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This is a very brief overview of some ways that Gungrave reflects truths about us and about God (most likely without the makers realizing it). Eventually, maybe I'll write in-depth posts about some of these details. Also, I'd like to analyze what the main characters' values are, and how they contrast with a Christian point of view. But not today. Today, I focus on hints and reflections of truth.

*Spoilers ahead!* Pretty much all the important parts of the plot are spoiled. So read at your own risk. If you're interested in a more "typical" review with less spoilers and a little bit of fangirling, see my Rewind post from 2013.

Summary of Gungrave 

Gungrave is an anime that crosses mafia drama with science fiction. It centers around loyal Brandon and ambitious Harry, best friends who, as young men, become involved in a mafia-like syndicate called Millennion. They work their way up, into the leader, Big Daddy’s, inner circle, or “family.” Then Harry prepares to betray Big Daddy and everyone loyal to him. This includes Brandon. But Brandon anticipates this. Before Harry kills him, he makes arrangements for a procedure that allows him to become “Beyond the Grave.” Thirteen years later, Brandon returns to kill his best friend and everyone else who betrayed Millennion. It’s love and honor that drive him to kill, not hateful revenge. This is beautifully illustrated in the last episode, when he and Harry die together in the abandoned cafe they lived in as street kids. 

Brandon is on the left of this screenshot, in the black suit. He is an enforcer
for Millennion, which means he does the dirty work associated with avenging,
protecting, and enforcing a code of loyalty. He works in the dark, while Harry
wears the white suit of budding leadership. But in this scene, Brandon is the one
standing in the light, as his best friend's true colors are finally
revealed. Love the symbolism of this! (ep 14)

Hints of God's Story

Brandon provides an illustration of God’s unconditional love, paired with his justice. He still loves Harry, and he gives him ample opportunity to change. But when Harry won’t turn back, Brandon prepares to kill him. He further echoes Jesus when he is killed by Harry, and when his other comrades join Harry’s betrayal. He dies at the hands of the very people he loves, but he does not resent them. Instead, he returns, to bring “justice” and, to what extent is possible, reconcile relationships. Similarly, Jesus died and rose again without resentment, to redeem us from sin. And, also similarly, Jesus will return to judge the living and the dead.

Hints of Creation [Of who and what we were made to be] 

Deep relationships, especially platonic and familial ones, provide a strong theme throughout Gungrave. Before the Fall, Adam and Eve had a pure relationship between themselves and God, untainted by deceit or greed. Humans aren’t made to live alone, and that shows in Gungrave. Brandon is especially good at valuing fellowship, but Harry gravitates to family-like groups, too. First, it’s their little gang in the slums. Then, it’s Millenion. Harry even gets married. Since wives, unlike best friends, are kept out of mafia business, he enjoys a relatively fulfilling relationship. 

Hints of Fall [Of how messed up we've become since the events recorded in Gen. 3]

Death, specifically murder, is an obvious hint throughout Gungrave. But the hints that resonate more deeply come from broken relationships. Sin prevents Brandon from a relationship with his beloved Maria. He is too involved in underworld dealings—and too loyal to Harry—to be a stable man for her. When stated like that, it sounds like an illustration of the separation between God and Man after the Fall. (Now there is a topic I'd like to explore—Maria and Brandon's relationship as a reflection of the human condition.) Most glaringly, Harry does not understand that selfless love and loyalty are infinitely more valuable than power and money. Thus, he accuses Brandon of betraying him by standing in his way. Instead of trusting his friend’s goodwill, he kills him—much like Eve and Adam chose not to trust God’s command. Harry misplaces his trust and confuses his priorities, just like so many of us do when blinded by the allure of sin. 

Hints of Redemption [Of reconciliation, bringing us and the world back into our proper relationship with God]

There is an echo of redeeming love in the last episode of Gungrave. Brandon finally begins to get through to Harry, to remind him of the friendship they used to have. At times, the screen shows them as their younger selves, from before Millenion.  Past and present mix in their last minutes, and they see dead friends. This gives hints of an afterlife, and of reunion with loved ones. With Brandon’s last words right before they shoot each other, he suggests they return to their childhood, to days of freedom. In the last scene, they do just that. We see the day Brandon and Harry meet at the orphanage. It shows restoration of relationships, innocence, and freedom.

Conclusion

This is one of my favorite anime, and I’m sure it’s largely because of the elements outlined here. It shows the broken nature of human life and relationships, but it also values both of them very deeply. God isn’t acknowledged in this anime, but it does acknowledge our ability to love despite the worst, and without letting go of justice. That is something that God created, that reflects him, and is beautiful even in the most broken settings.