I’ll be brief, as I get uncomfortable
writing things like this. I can’t shake the thought of someone bursting in,
announcing “Nobody asked for your opinion” and giving me both barrels. As well
he should. (Also, Danny and Findlay will be raging that I’m talking about an
anime instead of some shitey fuckin’ straight-to-skip horror film sequel.
What’s up with those lads, anyway? Geez Louise!)
Project
A-ko (1986) was the first anime film I ever saw. Back
in the days where every single thing from Japan was called MANGA. Even Japanese
cars. (My own father drove a Mitsubishi MANGA.) It is a parody film, and the
references to other anime flew over my head. They still do. Despite this, or
because of this, it was an ideal introduction to Japanese animation. What I was
treated to was a showcase of what to expect from anime: mech battles, high
school hijinks, incomprehensibly huge action setpieces, catastrophes wiping out
millions of lives in a flash, and underpants.
None of these things are why I really like
Project A-ko, though. There’s a strong nostalgic side to it, of course. But the
appeal of the film for me is that it was a film that wasn’t written, but arranged
on a storyboard. It began production without a script; the film didn’t have a
writer. The director allowed everyone to make suggestions – character
designers, animators, sound designers – and anything that was met with group
approval went straight into the film. Democratic anarchy.
Project A-ko’s producer, Kazufumi Nomura, happy to
dismiss convention.
Such reckless abandon shouldn’t result in a
film as competent as Project A-ko. During its production, word got around that
some young group of rookies were working on a film that was a no-holds-barred
spectacle where animators were free to do as they pleased. Many eager young
talents signed up to show their stuff. No-one was there for the 9 – 5 anymore,
this was a passion project for a group of people wanting to make their mark in
an industry they felt had grown stagnant or dull. Many of the Project A-ko
staff believed anime had become too dramatic, and were keen to have some fun.
For a long time, if you were an animator
with ideas, you put them on hold while working on what you were told to do.
Then maybe someday you’d be a director. Even then, your ideas may never see the
light of day should a studio decide to pass it up. Today, thanks to readily
available digital animation software, this limitation has been bypassed. With
YouTube and Vimeo, more and more amazing independent animators are given the
opportunity to express themselves to a wide audience. (There was Newgrounds,
though that was still a relatively tight-knit community rather than a place to
show the world your talents.) Watching Project A-ko, I see the same passion for
animation that I see today from young animators making whatever they feel will
show what they’re capable of. And to achieve that in the days of cels and paint
and cameras and film, it’s nothing short of inspiring.
And as if the visuals weren’t enough,
there’s the original soundtrack. Now look, I clearly don’t know how to write
about films. So I probably know even less about how to write about music. I
won’t embarrass myself by trying. I’ll just tell you that I absolutely love it
and provide a photo from the studio it was recorded in.
The good stuff.
I suddenly realise I haven’t said what the
film is about. Hope you enjoyed all that READING! Later, losers. (Ha ha, but
seriously folks!) It’s not about anything, really. Not being late for school,
mostly – then aliens invade. Don’t worry too much about it, the staff sure as
hell didn’t. And yet it was a hit. Awards, sequels and merchandise – including
manga, (not cars) a tabletop RPG and (gasp) an interactive CD-ROM! I’ll now
leave you with the film’s director, Katsuhiko Nishijima:
- Owen
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