Anime: TV Series and OVAs
A to M
Sorted by Year
Makai tenshō (1997-1998)
Blue Submarine No. 6 (1998-2000)
Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex (2002-2005)
Last Exile (2003)
Gilgamesh (2003-2004)
Fūjin monogatari (2004-2005)
Gankutsuō (2004-2005)
Basilisk (2005)
Blood+ (2005-2006)
Ergo Proxy (2006)
8/27/23. Like Witch Hunter Robin, Murase’s first work as a director, Ergo Proxy can easily be read as a satire of Japanese society. “A boring paradise,” sighs Re-L, gazing at Romdeau’s cityscape with its pure white facades, its perfectly geometric curves. It is an isolated city, a shining dome of an island in a sea of roiling smoke-colored clouds and barren ground; the sea-like nature of the outside world is emphasized by the “ships” that the outsiders use to navigate it. Romdeau is above all a convenient city, one where robots and underpaid immigrants do the dirty work while the majority of the society enjoys a peaceful, affordable life rooted in consumerism and pleasure. Murder occurs mainly in the undesirable outer neighborhoods; when the Monad Proxy goes on a rampage in the mall, people simply stand and stare, not in fear but in confusion. While Re-L, the powerful granddaughter of the city’s ruler (albeit one whose privileges depend entirely on the whims of her authoritarian grandfather), complains about Romdeau’s predictability, immigrants from war-torn areas flock in, desperate to become citizens. If Romdeau’s demands of these immigrants are harsh—they are subject to routine interviews and pressured to be “good citizens” (i.e. well-behaved and unquestioning of authority)—it is also true that the general populace is subject to similar demands. And at the same time it is clear from Samantha Creed’s threats toward Vincent that the citizenry do hold power over the dispossessed.
It is also notable that Raul appears to be an ordinary citizen promoted to the position of Chief of the Security Bureau by his virtues alone; Romdeau is not entirely un-meritocratic, although it is difficult to suggest that Re-L’s position in the Intelligence Bureau is not the product of nepotism; furthermore, Daedalus, the chief physician, has been created by the Regent for the primary purpose of caring for her. And one must admit that the Regent intends to use Raul as a figurehead: not in the sense of using him as a shield for nefarious activities, but rather as a pretense of normalcy as Romdeau falls to pieces. One can come up with any number of allegorical readings: if Romdeau is Japan and its issues with reproduction reflect the birth rate crisis, are the returning Earthlings representative of China, the ancestral regional power returning to glory? (The show began airing in 2005, the year China’s GDP finally overtook Japan’s—similar concerns about the rising threat of China appear in works like Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex’s second season, which aired around the same time.) Or perhaps the Earthlings are the U.S., and the threat of war an allusion to the Iraq War, concerns about which permeate nearly every dramatic anime produced during that time?
But characterizing Romdeau as specifically Japanese has its drawbacks, especially when the show’s aesthetics (here I include its often heavy-handed use of philosophy) draw heavily from European tradition, and when its statements about society are applicable to many other societies as well. That this show was created by a team of mostly Japanese artists doubtless influenced the nature of its grievances. On the other hand, I don’t like zeroing in on an artist’s nationality when there are more interesting aspects of their work, as I believe to be the case here.
For a show where reproduction is the most material issue, Ergo Proxy’s most emotionally resonant familial bonds are those formed between characters who are not blood-related. Re-L, Vincent, and Pino; Pino and Raul; Re-L and Daedalus. Perhaps it is precisely the lack of an easily comprehensible familial structure that lends these relationships their power, both to the audience and to the characters. I think it’s also important to note that these are structures that also elide traditional societal roles. Re-L is the gruff, emotionally repressed leader to Vincent’s gentle mediator and Pino’s rambunctious troublemaker. Pino twice refers to older women as “Papa” after seeing them demonstrate compassion and protectiveness toward a child; she has no concept of a “Mama.” Re-L treats Daedalus as a guardian and a friend (they appear to be of similar age, though Daedalus is presumably older), while his obsession with her recalls both a jealous lover and an overbearing parent without being either.
8/30/23. It’s been years since I watched this, and tons of scenes are still stuck in my head.
- The way the music kicks in during the opening sequence—haunting and thrilling. The silent fade transitions. The first three episodes of this show hooked me like almost nothing has since.
- The way the sky outside seems so low and oppressive. The domes shining like spotlights in the darkness—sterile and equally oppressive, but safe.
- Kristeva shaking Raul in slow motion during the mall massacre, and the close-up of Raul’s blank eyes.
- Re-L throwing her head back to stare at the ceiling, and the matching cut from her eyes to two lights on the ceiling.
- The brief shot of Raul’s expressionless face reflected in his office window, a strategically-placed building making it look like he’s smirking—which he is, internally, even if he himself doesn’t realize it.
- Re-L putting her head down and crying after she realizes everyone was gaslighting her, and she was right about the Proxy in her bathroom.
- In that same sequence, Vincent’s face spasming in fear when the Proxy slams against the door he just shut. Also, the cutting between Re-L in the bathroom, discovering traces of the Proxy, and Vincent facing the Monad Proxy and opening his eyes—a feral yellow-green shining in the darkness—for the first time.
- Every scene with Raul and the piano.
- Iggy straddling Re-L while she is trapped in the glass container. Then Re-L breaking free using the child Autoreiv—the tension of the back-and-forth cuts between the child’s strong swings of the axe and Re-L’s wide, intense gaze as she waits for the precise moment the glass breaks (and before the child can swing again).
- Re-L, shot from the back, gently apologizing to Iggy and holding his head as she reaches for her shotgun with the other hand.
- The Bradbury homage dome full of robots and no humans.
- Re-L struggling to get out of bed during the cabin fever episode. Her watching through binoculars as Vincent and Pino use tin cans as stilts. The shitty canned bean dinners by candlelight and her inner monologue about Vincent’s stray chin hair.
- The symmetrical shot of Kristeva silhouetted against the light when she opens the door to the bomb room.
- The designs of the cave humans; the swell of the music as the adult creature embraces the young one, and Re-L’s swinging lamp illuminates the womb drawings on the cave walls, and you realize this is a mother and child.
- Re-L sitting in the Monad Proxy’s chair and experiencing (or imagining?) the assault on her dome by Romdeau, the flying bullets creating the small craters Re-L noticed on her chair.
- The fact that Kristeva looks like Raul’s wife. The uncomfortable power dynamics between them: she is his personal assistant, but she really reports to the Regent. She is only a robot, but he is no match for her physically, unless he manages to get off a well-placed shot with a gun. Both of them learn to express emotion, becoming more “human,” but only Kristeva survives to enjoy it.
- Vincent’s fantasy world, where he’s the Security Bureau Chief, Raul his underling, and Re-L his girlfriend whom he takes out to dinner at posh restaurants. Talk about adherence to the same system that oppresses you, geez. (I realize this is the very obvious point the show is making.) Also, Vincent’s offhand comment about Raul being a family man—repressed_guilt.jpg.
- The weird paternal way Daedalus helps his last Re-L clone wash her hands.
- Raul’s death. The way the smashed window of the piano room hides (from the viewer) the blood stain on his shirt, and the slow reveal of his obviously fatal injury—the realization that the best ending he can have is a bittersweet one. The way he has to brace himself against walls with the same hand that holds Pino’s drawing, because he has to use the other hand to stem the flow of blood. Him collapsing, clawing himself back to his feet through sheer willpower, then immediately getting taken out by, of all things, a harmless Autoreiv and a windowpane. The bloody scuff marks around Pino’s drawing, which lies just out of his reach, and the tears in his eyes. Him and Kristeva just missing each other: by the time she is conscious enough to let him know she understands him and can take care of Pino, he is already dead.
- Re-L smiling and taking that steep trust-fall off of Romdeau’s collapsing scaffolding, and Pino catching her one-handed.