First, there’s Aquarion Evol. I’ve known of Aquarion for a good while, and a few years ago I dipped a foot into the original series before deciding that while the CG mecha were technically impressive, they were also annoying. Evol‘s CG mecha are even more technically impressive, but still annoying: juddering, weightless and disgustingly pristine. I haven’t got a great eye for this stuff, so I’ve little sense for how much of that is my taste and how much, if any, really is a fault it’s worth banging the table over. But it does rub the wrong way, especially when titles like Unicorn and that Votoms Finder one-shot—and yes, I understand that they’re not on television schedules and budgets—have convinced me that I like well-integrated CG mecha work. Hell, even the oddity that was Soukou no Strain got away with fairly bad CG by putting it in a weightless and pristine environment.

And the combination-as-sex thing doesn’t amuse me for (although this is not Evol‘s fault) I just finished watching Godannar. Actually, let me talk about Godannar for a paragraph. Godannar seemed to me to be built along the lines of jp’s description of Giant Robo: an attempt at ‘how we’d like to remember giant robot anime’. But instead of amazing production values Godannar has a soap opera-ish story about a young married couple, and lots and lots and lots of fanservice. Maybe it was just made with half an eye to people who did watch robot shows as kids, and were old enough by the early 2000s to want a soap operaish story about a young married couple mixed with lots and lots and lots of fanservice. I don’t know. I do know that Godannar made me laugh a lot and I recommend trying it if you haven’t yet and you like giant robots and ludicrousness.

Anyway, back to Evol. Evol is saved by its stupid finishers.

Second, there’s Rinne no Lagrange. I’m a bit surprised more noise hasn’t been made about Lagrange‘s sense of place. The brief reported remark about tourism here sent my mind in this direction, but really this stuff drips from the episode titles, from Madoka’s dedication to Kamogawa and from her suspiciously encyclopaedic fighting knowledge of the town’s layout and inhabitants. I’m hoping, but not expecting, that Lagrange will amuse me by exhibiting some small vein of conservatism similar to that which, I am reliably informed, ran through Hanasaku Iroha.

There’s a hint at this rootedness tying back into the plot sometime in Madoka’s defiant claim that Kamogawans’ love for their town is just as strong as the Demetrians’ love for their planet. I think I’ve come across a version of this issue in re: the problem of pain, the question being about whether these things are cumulative: can you add each individual’s love of their home into one big mass which you can then feed into your felicific calculus? Or is the love one person can feel for their home the maximum relevant amount? And all that sort of thing.

More importantly, robots! The ancillary stuff, that deployable runway, the useless lasers, &c—that’s some convincingly sharp mecha paraphernalia. Plus the robots’ own shape, their transformations, the workings of their blades and shields feel coherent, part of one thought-through effort. So far the fighting itself is very easy on the eyes and, importantly, has fun ideas. Madoka’s been pulling out the sort of attacks that belong in a slightly different breed of robot action, with mixed but consistently amusing results. I initially judged that Lagrange was not a mecha fan’s mecha show, and I suppose it isn’t, really, but at present it is, on a few measures, rather putting Evol to shame.

By loudly disliking Lagrange on Twitter Ghostlightning has prompted a defence; I’m not sure decades of mecha piloting can be quite so breezily reviewed, and I don’t think Madoka’s get-up-and-go can be so easily pinned to some kind of post-Fukushima need for pep, and even if it can, there’s no necessary connection between that and Lagrange being, like, good… but I do like this post. There are snippets in there which capture enjoyment rather well. Meanwhile, on GL’s blog but courtesy of DKJ, we have a post which captures the opposite of enjoyment. I’m not sure it really mounts much of argument for Lagrange being bad, but then I’m not sure I’ve mounted much of an argument for it being good.

What is interesting is that final paragraph; from what little I know I’d say there’re certainly connections in pacing and profit model between basal mecha shows and basal magical girl shows. In some respects they’re closer to each other than to their extrapolated forms—but Lagrange is not basal. However, at this point I’m probably just BSing. More than usual.

I usually end my twelve Christmas posts by thanking the bloggers and readers of the anglotakusphere. You guys are great!

Well, all the bloggers could stand to proofread and redraft a bit more and a lot of you have aesthetic criteria so unconsidered that it’s a miracle I still subscribe to your feeds… but I do, so well done. You guys aren’t great, but for a bunch of humans you’re alright. Readers: you’re great.

I don’t really post any more, and reading back through this blog I’m dissatisfied with most of my old posts. I do miss blogging with ideas, though, despite the fact that they were usually rubbish ideas.

I miss the other blogs, too. I was going back through my old indiscriminate annotated blogroll, in all its squillion-word glory, last night, and there’re a tonne of names there that I used to look forward to reading. Things probably weren’t better back then, but it feels like they were. And note that ‘probably’: in all such judgements idiots have a way of jumping from the obfuscatory effect of nostalgia, which undeniably exists, to the conclusion that things definitely weren’t better back then, whenever ‘back then’ was. Let me put that another way: it is very difficult to know whether things were better or worse does not mean we know that things were neither better nor worse.

Anyway, to end this post on a more cheerful note, things I’d have liked to have posted about over Christmas but didn’t find space for! Bryger is one of the latest titles being dragged out of untranslated obscurity, and in its way it’s pretty sweet. Golgo 13: The Professional looked great for spells—I’m no expert but it seemed a very pretty movie—but also delivered the ugly Golgocopters that make it famous. Dangaizer 3 was very Obari. The Kara no Kyoukai movies left me mostly unmoved, but I can see why they have fans. I enjoyed Horizon on the Middle of Nowhere because most of its components were terrible. Code-E was poor but I heard the sequel has powersuits; also, I realised after finishing it that this post on a blog you don’t remember put it on my list of titles to watch back in 2007. Panzer World Galient was the best show involving mecha centaurs I watched last year. Okusama wa Mahou Shoujo was the most inventive spin on the magical girl concept I saw. Shin Getter Robo vs. Neo Getter Robo featured Texas Mack. And of course I could easily cull eleven things worth posting about from Precure alone, if I wanted to bore you. I also watched a bunch of stuff again, including Giant Robo, all the Legend and of course the traditional Christmas return to War in the Pocket. 2011 was a good year.

And of course the fact that Space Pirate Captain Harlock was referenced is good: the “password” that Ririka trades with her old friend is the very first line of the Harlock OP song.

This is indeed good, and, as he goes on to say, it would be almost ungrateful not to acknowledge Harlock in a space pirate anime. What interests me is that this isn’t just thrown in the background somewhere: it’s being used as a passphrase. In a show more po-faced than Mouretsu, a passphrase would be something inocuous and definitely not related to piracy. But that show would be boring. In this show the phrase is a bold identification.

Taking the opening words of SPCH‘s opening—which is I think fairly obviously a creed from Harlock himself—as the phrase the pirates use to identify themselves to one another suggests that what makes an anime pirate piratical is that they are in some way Harlockian. Or, more narrowly restricting this to the phrase itself, that they have the Harlockian attitude to space: not a threatening final frontier, but a manageable ocean, and moreover my ocean, for my yacht. Taken this way I think it functions as a nice tribute, intentional or not.

(And was that first episode as a whole any good? Goodness, I don’t know. Ask someone else.)

Thing is, you see, I’ve been watching it at an anime club. I used to avoid those, but, having returned to university after graduating and working a desk job for a spell, I was feeling sociable and gave this one a try.

It’s true that these societies don’t have the practical function that they used to, allowing the efficient showing of rare VHS material. But it’s fun! Everyone I’ve met seems to be able to hold down a conversation. People make jokes I couldn’t have thought of myself, which I think is one of the most excellent, most gracious functions that humans perform for each other.

Speaking of humour, the club also solves one of my anime-watching problems: usually I only find comedies funny if I watch them with other people. And the club is also a useful device which makes me watch titles such as Dennou Coil. I’ve known it’s good for ages, but left on my own I’d never have managed to tear myself away from my solid diet of giant robots for long enough.

* * *

This is likely a short-term membership, because the wheels have been coming off my postgraduate career lately. I think I’ve become a bad investment, and I’ll probably be leaving again within the year. But I’m nevertheless glad I returned to university: I’ve learned I was wrong about a lot of things, and one of them was my judgement of social watching.

Freighting the smallest actions with importance, and making them take up lots of tense viewing time, is Kaiji‘s stock-in-trade. The second series started well with a willing surrender to excess, as Kaiji dug himself still further into debt in the Teiai Group’s underground labour camp. It was good to reconnect with our hero’s hapless side.

But Kaiji’s not a bungler when he’s in a nasty enough place, so the real payoff was his subsequent rise, uniting the debt-ridden lowest of the Teiai slave undersociety to beat Ootsuki at his own game. Those bloody dice narrowly edged out Cure Aqua’s lightsabre in the competition for my choice of Weapon of the Year!

But it was also pretty witty. I don’t mean it was funny in the sense that one could gather some friends and laugh at all the ridiculousness—though it was—I mean, there are some neat little jokes, and some neat grand ones too, come to think of it. (The gradual disintegration of Roboworld’s plans into a maelstrom of self-inflicted disasters, for example…)

I particularly recall Machinehead’s restaurant entrance. Ooh, this Little Deyzuna guy is in trou- no, he’s oka- oh, crap. Oh crap.

(And in this post ak offers one possible reason, modified in the comments, for Machinehead’s presence in that restaurant in the first place…)

The Shamblo owned much of the latest episode of Gundam Unicorn.

I like good mobile armours, I think because they’re usually bestial, and it does the soul good to see a small humanoid figure (the Gundam) squaring off against something like that. And it’s a salutary reminder that Gundam is at least as much unstable psychics riding monsters as it is hard-bitten soldiers piloting war machines—you will note that the painting stuck in Banagher’s memory is not titled The Lady and the Ordnance QF 17-Pounder.

I finished watching Zambot 3 this year. Zambot 3 is a short 1977-8 super robot anime, directed by Tomino (for the show’s salient features, see here and here). It doesn’t pull its punches, and I liked it, even though it wasn’t very animated at times. Before you ask, no, there isn’t a ‘well-’ missing from that last sentence.

Zambot 3 ends well. I sat where I was and didn’t want to do anything for a bit. The rest is spoilers.

The original Pretty Cure is simple and repetitive in ways that even its successors aren’t. Years ago I argued that this kind of austerity might have its uses. I wouldn’t put it in those terms, now, because I’m too conscious of my ignorance and too scared of that kind of exegesis, now, but I still think along the same lines.

Apart from the stock-footage finishers combat is almost entirely physical, and the finishers themselves are pretty simple compared to successor titles. The cast is small and there are only two Cures. Even the Cures’ names are telling: other iterations give us thematic sets—Melody-Rhythm-Beat-Muse—but here we just have Cure Black and Cure White. That’s not random, but it’s pretty, well, you-know-what. (True, later on there’s Shiny Luminous, but she doesn’t count.) Meanwhile many of the players in the overarching plot are named in a wonderfully lazy way, so the villain is a couple of shades away from being called The Villain, for example, and he manifests as a dark humanoid… shape. Indeed, I’m going to risk saying that the overarching plot is tokenistic and that that’s not a bad thing. If I’m watching for my daily dose of Cure Black punching evil in the face, I’d much rather the story be a quiet background joke.

So, as something approaching a limit case, Pretty Cure reminded me that sometimes unshakeable courage and the occasional handy rebar are more important than narrative.

I reckon it took me about three-and-a-half years to watch Space Runaway Ideon, from the first episode to Be Invoked. This show’s plot tires you as you watch it, or at least that was my experience and the experience of several others I know—though I do also know one person who more-or-less marathoned it, so hmm.

I didn’t rate Ideon that high, in the end. But I was interested by the gradual revelation of what the Ideon is (scary) and what it can do (a lot). And doesn’t the Ideon just, well, stick out? It’s oversized within its own show, so big it has internal corridors and what look like its own point-defence weapons. When its ungainly red mass first hit my screen I didn’t expect the Ideon itself to become both an oddly cool sight and a puzzle.

This all culminates in Be Invoked, which I found a bit incoherent. That did not, however, matter, because I also found much of it spectacular and moving. I haven’t seen many other films with such a huge, huge, huge scale. Like, I’m sure there are plenty of stories which technically involve bigger spaces—I suppose Gurren Lagann‘s final fight comes immediately to mind for my generation—but while that was certainly awesome, it didn’t give the same impression that the distances are vast, the superweapons utterly monstrous, the casualty list endless.

By Be Invoked the Solo Ship’s crew have scraped together a half-understanding of how the Ideon functions. One of the more unhinged crewmembers tries to manipulate it by (stay with me here) standing on the outside of the ship with a toddler in her arms when it’s about to be hit by a comet. This works, in one way, and in another way it doesn’t. But whatever its result for the crew, for me it was a great startlement in a film full of startling things.

I was much happier to go along with this sort of thing in Be Invoked than I was when watching, say, Victory Gundam.