Anime Impact. Chris StuckmannЧитать онлайн книгу.
made a gorgeous film that examines what one goes through when dealing with a crisis of faith. Just as the girl continuously asks the man who he is, it seems Oshii yearns to understand his faith, until finally, the man asks the girl the same question. Oshii is perhaps hinting that faith is simply a process of discovering who we are, what we are, and who or what we can become.
I think Angel’s Egg is an undisputed masterpiece. There’s not a single film like it in live-action, and certainly not in animation. It’s a film so ambitious and unconventional that nearly any interpretation can be considered correct. There’s really no right or wrong answers here. Oshii has clearly made a film steeped in heavy themes and imagery that’s meant to impact everyone differently. What do you see in Angel’s Egg?
This writing is condensed from Chris Stuckmann’s video “Is Angel’s Egg an Overlooked Masterpiece?” which can be found on his YouTube channel.
1985 • Night on the Galactic Railroad
Ginga Tetsudō no Yoru
— Chris Stuckmann —
A shy young cat named Giovanni awkwardly attempts to answer a question in class, much to the delight of the school bullies. The teacher is quizzing the students on the Milky Way galaxy and asks what exactly it is. Standing there, feeling as blue as his fur, Giovanni is unable to respond. His ignorant classmates mock and ridicule him, assuming his inability to answer reflects a lack of simple knowledge.
But no. Giovanni knows the Milky Way galaxy is made up of stars, planets, and other celestial beauties. But … what is it? Amongst the astronomical wonder of space, is there … more?
Giovanni’s silence doesn’t indicate any educational deficiency on his part. It does, however, speak to his reflective nature. For his classmates, the solution to the teacher’s question is a piece of cake. For Giovanni, life isn’t that black and white. When he gazes at the stars, endless possibilities float through his imaginative mind. This can’t be explained in a straightforward manner and thus, he’s bewildered by the teacher’s question.
This is our hero. An introverted blue cat who puzzles over the meaning of existence. Indeed, Night on the Galactic Railroad is a very special film.
The story is told through a series of vignettes. Title cards appear before every major scene, splitting Giovanni’s journey into a string of segments meant to convey a valuable point. Early scenes focus on Giovanni’s school, the print shop that employs him, and his home environment. But as the film travels down the rickety track known as life, the story alters, inch by inch, and eventually reveals itself to be far more profound than originally suspected.
It’s all the more impressive that Night on the Galactic Railroad avoids traversing many years of Giovanni’s life. On the contrary, just as the title suggests, we experience one mesmerizing night from his perspective. But what a night it is!
A local festival is happening in Giovanni’s village: The Festival of Stars. Cats young and old alike gather in the center of the town to honor this annual event. Unfortunately, Giovanni has responsibilities to care for, namely, his sick mother, and is frantically scrambling to get her some milk. This brings about more jeering from the school bullies, in particular, Zanelli, an oblivious cat who pokes fun at the disappearance of Giovanni’s father. After a verbal beating from Zanelli, Giovanni flees the festival, heading toward the peak of a large hill.
He lays in the grass, staring at the vast space above him. He’s at a loss for words, absorbing the grand beauty, in awe that every ball of light is a gigantic star, once again displaying his meditative nature. You can imagine his astonishment when a locomotive appears from nowhere, nearly running him down. After the shock dissipates, Giovanni boards the train without a single question.
From here on out, things get trippy. Giovanni realizes he’s on board with one of his respectable classmates, Campanella, a lithe, pink cat who treats Giovanni with dignity. As they depart, they discover this is no ordinary train, and the two embark on a philosophical adventure with crushing implications for both of them.
And they’re cats. Cats! God, I love anime.
Night on the Galactic Railroad is adapted from Kenji Miyazawa’s classic novel, published after his death in 1934. Director Gisaburo Sugii remained mostly true to Miyazawa’s vision, specifically the subtext surrounding the afterlife, and coming to terms with death, especially that of a loved one. Still, one major change was made, angering some. Miyazawa’s original novel featured human characters, whereas Sugii’s film turns them into cats. This is a dangerous risk, as some have seen this as an unnecessary alteration, infantilizing the otherwise intelligent material. This is understandable, but I don’t think it ruins anything. Believe it or not, I’ll go out on a limb and say it improves the proceedings.
Genuine surprise is a stimulant for cinema lovers. At this point in film’s history, it feels like we’ve seen everything. This is why I’m so captivated by Japanese animation. In America, animations with cats are limited to juvenile time-wasters like Cats & Dogs or The Secret Life of Pets. But in 1985, some brave filmmakers got together and made a movie about two cats musing on the harsh realities of life while aboard a metaphysical train that roams the elusive other side.
Can you imagine what goes through a child’s mind while watching this?
Aw, the little kitty goes to school! Oh, that’s too bad, he gets bullied. Look, Dad, he’s got a job! I hope he gets that milk! Wait … where’d that train come from? Huh? Is he talking with dead people? Are they gonna be okay? [cries uncontrollably]
Purists were irritated with the change from human to animal, but if the end result is a greater young audience, I’m more than fine with it. Night on the Galactic Railroad is the kind of mind-bending, kaleidoscopic journey into the subconscious that can truly transform you. But the journey isn’t a simple one. Just as Giovanni couldn’t perfectly respond to his teacher’s question, there are moments difficult to fully decipher. But these sequences only serve to impart the understanding that life itself is just as confusing. The answers aren’t always easy, and sometimes, you just don’t have any.
Giovanni’s dreamlike ride on the Galactic Railroad teaches him an abundance of life lessons, and when he reaches his destination, his outlook is one of optimism. If your child is ready for it, a viewing of this mature animation may spark a lively discussion about the intricacies of life and death.
— Jeffery J. Timbrell —
Robotech deeply traumatized me as a child.
I remember being an innocent young boy in the ’80s. I listened to Duran-Duran. I bought the Thriller album. I watched Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends. And all those days of innocence were washed away in a sudden blast of anime death when the Zentradi bombed the earth in an episode of Robotech.
There’s a moment in the episode that I remember vividly where a tiny child with a panda balloon clings to a soldier just a second before the city they’re standing in is bombed into so much glass.
By modern standards this is nothing. Kids nowadays have Game of Thrones and The Walking Dead. I’m pretty sure they could sit through footage of a slaughterhouse while eating popcorn and telling fart jokes. But you gotta understand you badass young folks, in my time we didn’t have Jeffrey Dean Morgan caving people’s heads in with a baseball bat on prime-time television. Or any-time television. Or in most films. Or in any films! In my time you rarely got to see people die in cartoons. It was a joke that used to go around the playground that Cobra and G.I. Joe intentionally missed each other with their laser rifles. When Optimus Prime died in the Transformers animated film it was traumatizing. Actually, no, scratch-that, it was traumatizing to see Prowl coughing up orange engine foam after getting his chest blown out in the Transformers movie. It was traumatizing hearing Bumblebee swear as Unicron ate a moon. Seeing Optimus Prime die was like the kid cultural equivalent