entertain

For those still faithful to the Dystopian cyberpunk genre (I hear steampunk is in now), watch Akira. Its implications will last hours, days, weeks,  months after the first viewing. The symbolism manifested in characters, objects, and transformations discuss the human condition.

Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira cuts no corners on appeal. For its 1988 production, Akira outstrips the more recent, more lavish anime series in shivering-in-seat action, detailed shots, and thoughtfulness. Explosions and furious motorcycle chases light up eyes and feed stomach butterflies. The plot twists in the name of purpose, not sensationalism. The musical score augments scenes into certain directions. Symbolism in thrilling landscapes of urban excess and decay blend with the plot’s design in the name of meaningful discussion, not pretentious analysis. People in Akira feel dreamlike or sobering for embodiment of an idea; a possible answer to questions, a reflection of human imperfections, or more.

We begin Akira in Neo-Tokyo, the brightly-lit phoenix from the radioactive ashes of World War III. Tokyo, nearby, has disintegrated from what most believe was a nuclear attack in 1988. Neo-Tokyo’s crime and anti-government factions run rampant, and motorcycle gang leader, Kaneda, enjoys his hangout spot. The city: dichotomies of rich and poor dance all around, as police flaunt brutality, and silly things like a human rights record no longer have value. Kaneda and his gang embody the ironic freedom given in this new world: rampaging against other gangs and the police – just surviving. A fellow member, Tetsuo – a quick learner, awkward and easily pressured – follows the gang while tolerating Kaneda’s light-hearted insults. The constant joking subtlety affect Tetsuo, and have extreme consequences as the movie progresses.

Akira‘s melancholy atmosphere dominates the life depicted in Neo-Tokyo. Life here feels hopeless and drained of its energy. And for what purpose? People fight and slouch around as the city slowly fades, literally. Do our exploits every day eventually add up to something? When we witness action we see the people move quicker, but we almost feel nothing but pity or sorrow for the city dwellers. Not a lot of people truly win the game of life in Neo-Tokyo. Nobody seems to relax…but what of Kaneda? His friendly demeanor and lighthearted arrogance seem to suggest some sort of energy outside of the daily exertions; some sort of bliss amid the rubble and society still crumbling. What does he hold onto for happiness? Beating up members of the rival gang? Lying his way out of a police precinct? Flirting around with an anti-government rebel? Teasing and bossing around Tetsuo?

A large portion of Akira‘s intensity comes from the introspection triggered from such scenes. What happens to individuals suddenly blessed with immense power? What of the corruption from the power? Who cleans up the destruction caused by two superpowers? Who takes responsibility? What constitutes society, the law or the public? Who? Can science corrupt? What defines corruption through the pursuit of scientific knowledge? To what purpose do we humans serve? Do we have any at all or even one?

If audience members find such questions familiar or even over-explored, Akira delivers still, giving new faces on supposedly antiquated topics. Bodies and voices give animation to these abstract ideas and thoughts. We travel through the characters, viewing personal demons, consciences, thoughts, mental scars, fears, desires, and personalities; ultimately creating their own answers for the audience’s analyses. The audience, however, must find within themselves how much of each of the characters’ answers they believe in.

As Akira progresses, the viewer – looking past the awesome scenes of violence and mayhem – can see how far answering simple life questions can take them. And how satisfying the journey can be, even without ultimately finding a satisfying answer while Neo-Tokyo sinks slowly to oblivion.