But on the other hand, it really works for the kind of romantic, fatalistic attitudes I’m sure these kids all possess. On the one hand, that’s a pretty common thing for anime – melodramatic presentation of grounded emotions is pretty much a building block of the medium, from Utena and Eva on down. Like with the finale of last week’s episode, the dialogue always pushes a little too far, always tugs against the realism of the visual framing. Almost the entire frame is filled with a bright, sunlit rooftop, but our forgotten protagonists are consigned to the darkened fire escape in the cornerģ:16 – So dramatic, Nine. Kind of like a lot of internet people!ģ:06 – Alright, I said I wouldn’t point it out every time, but goddamn I love this shot/line combination. A neat trickĢ:44 – Nine always ends with the pragmatic point that her existence might put their plans in danger, but he also always includes the much more emotional “she’s not one of us.” This fits his general actions – his choices are predicated on underlying feelings of emotional distrust and resentment, which he then frames in overtly(/superficially) logical terms and decisions. Most shows just value “clarity” and so level out lighting, but here, the much more stark lighting can serve a dual purpose of leaning more towards naturalistic framing while also working as a thematic conceit. I won’t point it out every time, it’s just a good thing to keep in mind for this show.
Not surprising, since the show very often positions the viewer in Lisa’s perspectiveĢ:37 – Lighting etc. Normally we get very narrow shots or night shots, but now that Lisa’s here, we’re allowed to actually inhabit it. Let’s get back to it.Ģ:29 – I feel like this is one of the first times we’ve actually gotten a decent look at this space. I’ll avoid going further on that thread for now unless the show actually engages with it, but I’m excited to see whichever direction this story chooses to go.
It seems that even if you play within the rules of this story’s general system, you’re still a victim of a larger truth – even Japan itself can’t dictate the terms of how its society truly functions. This is generally a very tightly focused story, and the scale is “our young terrorists, Lisa, and Shibazaki versus the inescapable system they are facing in Japan.” However, that one throwaway line gestured at the exact same problem on a much larger scale – the Japanese system of justice and peace versus a world community that is unwilling to play by the same rules. Incidentally, one of my favorite details from last episode was the offhand mention of “fake IDs from Russia or China” that allowed the terrorists to gather the resources for their plot. That may ultimately point to a way out that doesn’t require destroying the world altogether. And so Nine and Twelve seem to have their own plan – either destroy the world that has abandoned them, or at least make some kind of statement against it. And against both these choices, there is constantly dangled the desire for human connection – apparent in Lisa’s story, but also evident in the increasingly personal games our young terrorists are playing with Shibazaki.
But you can’t really escape the world – no matter where you run, you’re still living within it. Lisa initially tries to run from her world, to get “somewhere outside it” – and episode four’s conclusion was a gorgeous articulation of this instinct. In response to this assault on identity by the world they inhabit, Zankyou seems to spend equal time exploring both Fight and Flight. This is a show about abandoned people – people who’ve been given up because they either don’t fit into or are unwanted by a fairly rigid social system. Back on the terror train! Last episode was definitely a stunner – it started off with its usual slow-boiling, atmosphere-heavy thriller antics, but ended in a triumphant flight from the cops, from the city, from the world altogether.
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