Globalization and the world belonging to
the Metropolis.
Over the last
twenty years or so Japanese animation has seen a significant rise in popularity
in the West. I personally remember dragging my parents and friends into central
London just so I could riffle through the VHS selection in the
basement of Forbidden Planet. It was a rare treat. Nowadays, anime is
everywhere, back home in London, Japanese animation is readily available to all
those who wish to take advantage of it. Whole sections of popular stores are
devoted to this particular genre and the Western world on mass essentially
knows the idiosyncratic differences between anime and standard cartoons and it
is no longer viewed as particular to its country of origin.
Anime is now global,
and this globalization also relates to our own sense of belonging or feeling at
home. As the culture of Japan (albeit primarily pop-culture) penetrates the media of the West, its
nature is being gradually ingrained into our everyday lives. The false concept
that anime is in-cased in a protective ‘Japanese’ barrier is slowly withering
year by year.
Rintaro’s Metropolis is an interesting response
to this idea. While its story may need a little fleshing out in parts the
premise behind it is genuinely fascinating. This is a story that is based on
another, which in turn was supposedly based on a movie poster of an incredibly
popular German film. Metropolis or
rather Metoroporisu (film) is based on Osamu Tezuka’s comic from 1949 that
shares the same name. It is said that Osamu only used the poster of Fritz Lang’s
film, also with the same name, as his inspiration. Judging from the narrative
within the comic this comes as no surprise as it shares very few themes with
the German film. The 2002 film on the other hand has more in common with Fritz Lang’s
version due to a complete rewrite of the story; with it containing themes of
class struggle, humanity and even a love story. Although these similarities do
exist it doesn’t go as far as to warrant itself a remake but rather a stylish
pastiche on Western films in general.
The story’s
narrative is very spatially focused. The beautifully drawn, pastoral locations
that are too numerous to list dominate the mise en scene of the film and
become the drive behind the story. The plot outline resembles at best a film
noir; a genre that is perfectly suitable to take the characters on a sightseeing tour
of the entirety of the Metropolis itself. A detective and his young ward are sent out
on a mission to find an evil scientist who has been accused of organ trafficking.
On their way they unravel a plot that not only concerns them, or indeed the
thriving city that surrounds them, but the whole of the human race at large. Once
the characters locate the laboratory they discover that it has been put to the
torch and the scientist they seek lies dying within. A young girl is also found
within the wreckage, a girl who soon becomes the focal point of the entire
film. Tima is a robot, built in the image of Red Duke’s daughter, a man who has
recently finished construction of the largest skyscraper in the world. The
Ziggurat, which closely resembles The Tower of Babel, is a symbol of man’s
accomplishments but within this story it is also a means of domination and oppression
with the ability to control the entirety of the world’s robots, characters that
are portrayed as the physical embodiment of the proletariat populace. Tima’s
role is to sit upon the throne of The Ziggurat and rule as the supreme
being/robot that she is; a plan compromised by the detective, Hige-Oyaji and
his nephew, Kenichi who inevitably falls in love with her. .
The
overall style of Metropolis is
outstanding. The minute detail found in every scene can be individually viewed
as a work of art. This beautiful use of color and movement is wrapped around an
art deco backdrop and is further coupled with a groundbreaking soundtrack
comprised of New Orleans-style jazz music. It’s completely and utterly cool and
perhaps it’s easy to think that the storyline would finish second place to the aesthetic
of the film. This is not the case. Metropolis relies on a supranational
identity to capture the audience’s attention. Its stunning and sophisticated
contemporary setting reflects the broader hybrid nature of the culture of
modern Japan. This film is both inward as well as simultaneously being outward
looking. The two protagonists of the film, the detective and Kenichi are both
from Japan and they have come to a foreign land to solve a crime against
humanity. They are the primary point of view of the film and it is through
their eyes that the Metropolis is served to us, we are only tourists. The city
thus becomes so much more intricate and its style has a profound resonance as
it is the world of any city; a western city, a Japanese city, a modern city and
we are being shown this through their traditional eyes. It’s rather overwhelming but
utterly fantastic, a beautiful experience of looking through the looking glass.
The
additional themes that are found within Metropolis’s narrative can likewise be
seen as another element of style in this manner. The idea of class struggle and
the issues of humanity are two of notable importance, one leading into the
other. The former being a characteristic of the Metropolis itself, almost as if the deprived classes are an
ordinary appendage, a common occurrence of a thriving city. This comfortably
leads us to the latter theme, humanity. What begins as satirical jab at a the
faulty nature of a society and human interaction then switches to a much more
literal analysis of the theme. What makes us human, the ability to display
compassion? If an artificial girl can possess this, is this the next stage of
human evolution or is it the beginning of our own damnation? “I am an artificial human. A machine created
to conquer the world and destroy it.”
Although
Metropolis relies heavily on style it would be a mistake to consider this film
solely on face value. Its use of style is intelligent and wonderfully placed.
With many recent anime hitting major cinemas and entertaining the masses both
in Japan and around the world this is definitely an unappreciated classic
to hark back to. This is anime's reaction to its own fame, a form of cinema that
is becoming absorbed into the mainstream, rather than being a straightforward
alternative to it.
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