Cherry blossoms are in full bloom and falling along the paved landscape, leading down the street to where two train tracks lie, together but apart, going in opposite directions. A man walks along this road he has been down many times before and knows instinctively that he must cross the track in order to continue his desperate contemplation. On the other side of this marker is a woman walking along the same pathway who approaches the track with the same thought and purpose. As the man and woman pass one another as they are crossing, a quiet jolt of emotion comes back. Was that the girl he once knew? Was that the boy she first loved? They keep walking apart silently until they reach their respective other sides. As the caution signals come down they both remain still, not really sure of what to do next. When they slowly begin to turn their heads to look at one another, a train passes by with surefire precision. The man waited until the train had passed, but by then, she was gone. Faded into memory.
That subtle but powerful image captures the tone of the film "5 Centimeters Per Second", a melancholy portrait of human longing by Japanese animation auteur, Makoto Shinkai. The movie tells the tale of Takaki Tōno (David Matranga) and his lingering love for Akari Shinohara (Hilary Haag), a childhood friend of Takaki's. They initially meet through attending the same school where they are new students together. Soon they realize that they each have similar interests and vibes and begin spending more time together. The other students tease, but their bond cannot be broken. Unfortunately, both of their parents have very transient jobs which forces them to move farther apart from one another. Slowly and surely, they drift out of each others' lives with no word of closure between them.
The film is structured in three distinct acts. The first, "Cherry Blossom", deals with this recounting of how the two of them met, as Takaki takes a train ride through treacherous cold weather to go to see Akari before she has to move further away from Takaki. The second act, "Cosmonaut", is mostly told from the perspective of another woman from Takaki's high school named Kanae Sumida (Serena Varghese). She has an undying love for Takaki but cannot find the words or courage to express it to him; all this while he deals with an ever greater physical distance from Akari. The third and final act, "5 Centimeters Per Second", deals with Takaki's present adult life, showing him as an emotionally stunted man. The couple's history in between that time is told through a beautiful and lyrical montage which ultimately, reveals him as lonely, untouchable and detached from his own life.
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One narrative motif in any of Shinkai's films is the written word. From either a handwritten letter to text messages through a cell phone; these simple words and thoughts recur through his characters' minds constantly like a lifeline to save them from drowning in their own numbness. This is featured most prominently in the first act with Takaki, in addition to trying to meet Akari, carrying a letter that he feels he must give her. Again, due to the terrible weather, he loses the letter in the harsh winter windstorm and never delivers the note he wrote. However, at the end of the act, you see that she had her own letter for him but it was never given or received. By the end of the film, you could make the inference that the young woman's letter was not a happy one.
One of the saddest observations I have noted in my life is how much damage can be inflicted by one person on another. Not in the sense of physical violence, yelling, or actual abuse. No, the pain that can be done to the human heart through quiet subtle acts of rejection or ever worse, indifference. These are the things of lifelong hurt and regret. I had two such instances in my life that were called to mind by this film. In one, I was "spared" by the honesty of a young woman who rather quickly met my courtliness with a letter that declared her intention to remain friends. This, while savage in its own right, at least spared me years of longing which would have the danger of repeating a harrowing previous experience.
At one point in my younger years I became infatuated with a young lady, one smart, charming, lovely and kind; her name was Elyse. I held her in the highest regard for years, always showing her the utmost respect and well, love. She kept me somewhat at a distance, but I thought nothing of it, a good amount of people did anyway. Unfortunately, nothing prepared me for the mental car crash that awaited me. Several years after the infatuation began, I attended a school social, hoping to encounter her there. Sadly... she arrived on the arm of another man, a fellow classmate I might add. Although I was upset with the classmate who accompanied her, Elyse made me feel a low I never felt before. I felt so used and cheated. All that wasted emotion, and for what!? For a searing emotional scar, given to a heart that had been through enough alienation by his fellow peers. Nary a word crossed between us that night, but I live with the hurt of it still; shy to ever put forth so much of myself in an uncertain world towards an uncertain female.
Our actions are not only defined by what we do, but what we don't do. In the case of the film, what would have happened if Akari gave the letter to Takaki, like the woman who gave me the same letter years ago? It would hurt, but maybe, just maybe, he could have moved on and found happiness again, maybe with Kanae... but we don't know. As human beings, we have this terrible habit of thinking we know exactly what's right for the other person regardless of emotional truth. This is a problem I deal with as well and I hope to get better at understanding that concept. The truth may be harsh but it's better than owing an emotional debt we can never repay.
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I made this expression on the film, mostly based around the third act. I'm proud of it and I hope to improve my craft in future works.
The first seven minutes of the anime series "Elfen Lied" revolve around a woman escaping from a secret government facility with calculated, deadly precision. Using only her mind, she stops bullets, lops off limbs, hurls sharp objects through flesh and decapitates helpless guards and staff members, all while she is naked, I might add. I sat back with rather piqued interest. I had heard the praise and accolades for this show as the premiere horror anime and I was ready to be astounded.
"Elfen Lied" tells the story of a young girl named Lucy (Kira Vincent-Davis). She is a Diclonius, an evolved form of human that have horns on their heads and mental vectors with the shapes of arms and hands that can do their bidding. When Lucy escapes from the government facility where she is being held, she gets hit in the head by a rouge bullet and develops another personality. This second personality is named Nyū (also voiced by Vincent-Davis), a childlike girl who doesn't have a huge vocabulary, does have an infinite curiosity of the world around her and possesses no knowledge of what she's really capable of. Nyū is found by a young man named Kohta (Adam Conlon) and his cousin Yuka (Nancy Novotny), who proceed to lodge her in Kohta's newly acquired, spacious house (it was formerly a restaurant).
I was looking forward to finding this anime a powerful and emotional experience. What ultimately transpired was one of the most disheartening and dejecting experiences I've ever had watching the visual medium. Now I've heard most of the negative complaints about the show, most of which aren't very drawn out. So I feel that I must get my two cents in, for the sake of my own sanity and to give a proper voice for the dissenters of the series.
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I feel most film and TV is a two way conversation. The art presents a story which has certain elements which invoke certain things in me. That in turn allows me to interpret the story in my own way using elements of my own life and the world around me as inspiration. There are some cases where the conversation is one-sided, but it's left in the hands of the viewers. A good example of this is Robert Bresson's 1966 film "Au Hasard, Balthazar," which tells the story of a donkey with numerous owners in its lifetime, some good and some evil; but the film itself refuses the luxury of having the characters emote. This leaves the viewer to fill in the emotional blanks themselves, making it a much more difficult but more personal viewing experience.
The worst type of stories are those where the conversation is one-sided but it's led by the story, brandishing a shotgun and forcing you to go a certain way. This is one of the main problems of "Elfen Lied." The story and atmosphere of the show are diametrically designed to make you feel sorry for the Diclonius, hate the bad guys and admire Kohta and Yuka for taking Lucy and the rest of her kind in his (Kohta's) house.
The most prominent way this feeling is achieved in the show is by portraying humanity in a very negative light. The Diclonius themselves are not generally known by the public since they're being bred in secret, but whenever a Diclonius interacts with a typical human being, they either get berated, whispered about or treated snottily. When a younger Lucy falls down to the ground, she is yelled at to stand up because she is blocking the road. When Nana (Sasha Paysinger), another Diclonius, is trying to figure out how to buy some food, she's treated with very little respect just because she doesn't really know what to do. While she walks away, two girls whisper about how dirty and unclean she looks. These facts wouldn't bother me so much, since humans are not necessarily the nicest of species, if it didn't pertain to almost every single normal human on the show. Sadly, it does just that.
This is further compounded by the fact that most of the men on the show are either jerks, misogynists, moral deviants, sexual deviants or any combination of those traits. Besides this fact offending me emotionally, this offended me as a man. Consider the operative character, Bando (Jason Douglas). In the first scene you meet him, he's pleased at the prospect of being able to just kill someone without question and knocks the lights out of a poor woman who was just walking behind him, calling her a bitch. The magna, the source material from where the show is based, has a supposedly more three-dimensional treatment of him, but I guess the creators of the show thought it was a bad idea to make him nothing more than pure, angry testosterone.
This is also true of many of the more knowledgeably capable people on the show, including many of the scientists. One of whom has a scene where he has Nyū naked and chained with intenstion to rape her, with full knowledge that she is also Lucy. This leaves the "good guys" without very many natural resources, thus leading them to become slaves to the plot. Things happen to them, they don't implement.
Another story to consider is the backstory of Mayu (Cynthia Martinez), a young runaway who lives in a storage area on the beach outside of town. Once again, it should be noted that I don't hate tragic backstories. If you count how many times an anime character's parents have kicked the bucket, you're going to need more fingers and toes. When they showed how she was molested by her stepfather, however, I felt sick. Not just because of the idea of molestation, which is sick in itself, but how explicitly they portray her getting violated. They literally have a young naked girl, with her head down and on all fours. It just reeks of desperation and exploitation.
The greatest straw breaking moment is one that many fans and non-fans talk about a lot -- the puppy. Yes, the puppy. During a flashback we see Lucy befriend a puppy as her only friend since she isn't really liked at her orphanage. Unfortunately, her fellow orphans (her tormentors) find out about the puppy and proceed to beat it to death in front of her (offscreen, but still) for their amusement.
The root problem with the emotional core of the series is that it doesn't seem to trust my emotional intelligence. When I start watching something, I'm ready to empathize and care about the characters onscreen. When you start feeling like you're being directed to feel a certain way at every moment however, it stops becoming an organic emotional experience and starts becoming a dirge.
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Suspension of disbelief is an aesthetic of art where the audience believes elements of a plot to be true even though they are outlandish or impossible; I, myself, practice this theory a lot. Not everyone is that willing however. Take my Dad. He has one of the sharpest disbelief sensors I know and he will openly criticize any piece of work when it jumps the gun. The biggest rule of his is if the story is taking place in the real world, you accept a certain fantastical fact at the start of the story and see if the plot stays true to both the real world and the fantastical fact.
Another huge flaw in "Elfen Lied" is that the environment surrounding the series doesn't pertain to how normal human beings would react. When the series started I could understand the idea of a government holding a special laboratory to create new human-based weaponry (a great example is from the film, "The Manchurian Candidate"). I could also understand the local police department being paid off to make sure that the town doesn't know that crazy government dealings were being done not too far from their homes. This whole setup comes crashing down when Lucy escapes. After that happens, I started wondering why there were no characters of any sort who were curious about the recent acts of violence.
What I would have liked to have seen was a cop who is wondering why his department doesn't seem to care about why his own force has been so busy and secretive. Either that or a newspaper reporter who realizes the correlation between the events now and the events eight years before the Diclonius Project started. Or how about a government liaison who starts wondering why this project he doesn't know about seems to be having problems in its area of location?
Why doesn't this series even allow for simple human curiousity to bring an outside perspective into the game? Once again, this lack of general logic purposefully casts humanity negatively and controls the viewer's feelings by marionette strings.
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Both the overcompensating emotion and intermittent logic of the show ultimitely converge to the singular biggest problem of the entire story: the Diclonius themselves.
Their "dilemma" reminds me of Fritz Lang's 1931 masterpiece, "M," which tells the story of a man named Hans Beckert, played by Peter Lorre, who wanders the streets and kills innocent children. For most of the movie we are very convinced that he is guilty, but then a strange thing happens near the end. Hans explains to a group of angry criminals about how he's driven by an uncontrolled mental compulsion until he kills again. Now this doesn't make him any less guilty, but it paints a more complex emotional landscape. It starts raising questions: Is he pure evil or criminally insane? Is he mentally ill or directly motivated? These questions are part of the complex scope of humanity.
With theDiclonius however, their violent nature is ingrained in them. They understand perfectly well that they have vectors and will not be afraid to fight or kill whenever necessary or unnecessary. This includes the emotionally calmer Nana, whenever she battles Lucy to try and bring her back to the facility.
I've heard that the Diclonius represent the struggle between nature vs. nurture, but even that argument is flawed. I personally believe that we are capable of any emotion we can set our minds to, because the entire emotional spectrum is innate within us; that is our nature. What happens then, is how we consciously or subconsciously process the events of our own lives. This translates into how we act. Some have the power to change, some can't, but the most important aspect is that we almost always have the choice to ourselves.
Once you remove the choice, you ruin the moral complexity of the dilemma. When Lucy starts killing at the young age she does, it's activated by a mindset already inherent within her. It was bound to happen sooner or later. It can't be changed. It makes me think of those people who believe that Autism is a disease that can be cured...
Let me explain something: Autism is not a disease, it's a disorder. It can be stabilized, not cured with a shot like a virus.
Also the main violent vendetta placed by the Diclonius to kill the human race is logically unsound. The main issue is that once all humans are extinct and they still have that violent tendency, who's left to kill? Each other. The Diclonius are forever in a vicious cycle leading towards their own self-destruction.
With this knowledge, the series seems to make a point, whether intentionally or not, that the Diclonius would be dangerous to be left alive and should be killed. Now, I can already hear the word hypocrite being shouted at me for being in similarly mistreated group of individuals. Autistics have had their share of troubles including centuries of little understanding of mental disability to them being thrown in asylums and given LSD for experimental purposes during the 1960's. (Since when is giving hallucinogenic drugs to neurologically unstable children ever a good idea?)
So why should I defend one group of sufferers but criticize another? Well, there are two main differences. Firstly, no autistics are trying to take over the world and it would be quite hard for us to attempt since 75% of us are mentally retarded (I am one of the lucky few who is not). Secondly, we and many others have crusaded peacefully for our existence leading to studies, treatments, laws, education programs and international exposure; all because people can actually care about others, which is something "Elfen Lied" has a hard time grasping.
Ultimately the series made me feel used and manipulated, both mentally and emotionally. If that's what it was going for, then yay for you, but I'd rather leave with some shred of human dignity first.
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After reading my more rational criticism, this is my revenge...
P.S. Any flaming regarding this video would be redundant since what you would like to do to me is represented at the end of the video.
Concurrent with watching "Wings of Desire," I was viewing the fine anime series, "Eureka Seven." Through that, I've developed a special bond with one of the characters. Her name is Eureka.
Eureka is the female protagonist of the show who is not who she seems. Watching the show you learn she is a humanoid Coralian sent by the Scub Coral (sentient alien beings who became based in the land of the Earth) as a tabula rasa (blank slate); to learn about humans and give info to the Scubs as to whether they could coexist with humans. She does not, however, know the purpose given to her. Although the concept of alternative humanoid beings learning what it means to be human have been explored before (notably on "Star Trek: The Next Generation" with Data), what separates Eureka from the others in my mind is her innocence.
When you first meet her, she seems very enigmatic and distant with a belief in very few things. That's when she meets the male protagonist, young and willing Renton Thurston, who develops a deep and pure attraction to Eureka. Through their growing relationship to each other, Eureka begins to explore who she is and what she means to others.
Slowly she reveals that she has the heart of a child. This was first indicated in her relationship to the Nirvash (the mecha she pilots); she treats Nirvash not as a machine but as a spirit with thoughts and feelings. She approaches human emotions and concepts with awe, fascination, fright or any combination of the three. From the deep guilt she feels for being a member of the SOF, with which she participated in killing the parents of her adopted children (Maurice, Maeter & Linck); to the overwhelming rapture she feels when Renton continues to love her through everything that changes about her and what he learns about her. Part of the success of conveying this character's beautiful nature lies within the brilliant performance of the magnificent Stephanie Sheh. Through her voice, she brings a certain type of openness and separation from life that I relate to perfectly.
The difficulty I had when I was growing up was not only relating to who I was but how I related to myself through the prism of autism. Growing up for anyone is always tough, that much I know, but coming from such a mild background of autism I could simultaneously see both sides of the spectrum at once. What I see in Eureka is another standing on that same line where I stood. I wanted to understand the world and live joyously in it, but I was also scared to death of the world I longed for.
The fear mostly came out of wondering if I would be truly accepted as myself. I've discovered, the hard way, when you get older, your world becomes a smaller place in the world's eyes. This was trouble for me because my world was continually at the forefront of my mind. So, with baby steps, I had to adapt a compromise between myself and the world... a gray area. It was never easy and at several points I wanted to give up in the worst possible way. Eventually, I emerged from that difficult chrysalis to being an autistic adult (though mind you, I'm still learning).
When I watch Eureka, I see that part of me. Struggling to accept who she is while trying to adapt herself into the world she longs to be in with Renton and the kids. Sometimes art has the startling ability to adapt a piece of your soul so fully without even asking. In that sense, I see Eureka as an angel; stemming from a still wounded place in me to give me comfort as I do the same for her.
Wim Wenders' 1987 film, "Wings of Desire" is quickly ascending on my list of favorite films of all time. Not necessarily because the movie is beautiful, which it truly is. My estimation of it grows with how much the film assisted me in my quest to understand myself.
It tells the story of Damiel (Bruno Ganz), an unseen angel who silently observes the hearts and minds of the people in West Berlin. He spends his days giving comfort to those whose are in pain and making notes on the beauty of normal human nature, which he discusses with his spiritual brother, Cassiel (Otto Sander). Damiel is completely fascinated by humanity but knows he can't become a human himself without taking away his immortality. Then he quietly and serendipitously meets a lonely and despondent trapeze artist named Marion (the beautiful and dearly departed Solveig Dommartin) whom he falls in love with. With that, he begins to ruminate whether or not to take the plunge and become human to meet her and hopefully, be with her.
The true facet of this movie that continually runs in my brain is how the angels view humanity from the outside in. They've lived an eternal life watching people and seeing their actions. They know what people are doing, but don't understand why they do it. After the movie, it was pointed out to me that I behave in a similar way. As an autistic, I describe seeing life as through a prism. Normality is difficult to comprehend. When you live in a world of your own (as I do), understanding other peoples' worlds is difficult.
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(David Jewell & Caveh Zahedi in "Waking Life")
Another element of "Wings of Desire" that helped me with my theory of the "Holy Moment." This concept comes from the movie "Waking Life" in a scene between director Caveh Zahedi and writer David Jewell. In Caveh's reading of critic André Bazin's book "What is Cinema?" he comes to the notion of how great film is born out of moments that are pure and open -- a "Holy Moment."
Ever since that scene, I've been searching to expand on what that entails, but some of that answer was found in "Wings of Desire." The angels cannot interfere with the actions that humans may take, but they do give a feeling of someone there when there is no one to be found. With films, we the viewers, can only stand by watching a scene (like the angels); there is no interference. And yet at times, the barrier between film and viewer is removed and we become part of it. I purposefully go to a different space and time -- it becomes vital to me. There are scenes in some films that make me feel that I'm just as much a part of the film as what I'm watching, even if I'm only listening intently in silence (again, like the angels). I become part of what I'm seeing. Art is something that keeps me alive. I participate in the "life" of a film (particularly when there is a "Holy Moment"); when in reality, "real life" is something that overwhelms and frightens me.
Not too long ago, I watched "The Seventh Seal" by Ingmar Bergman for the first time. I've never seen a Bergman film before, but I was glad to finally know what all of the adulation was about. It tells the story of Antonius Block (Max von Sydow), a knight who has come back to his disease-plagued homeland after years of fighting and challenges Death (Bengt Ekerot) to a chess game for his life. During which time the knight wanders his homeland in search of answers for what will await him in the afterlife.
What I've heard characterized about Bergman films is how God is silent. His characters, including Antonius, continually seek out answers to questions that cannot possibly answered by another human being. It kind of makes sense to me as we were severed from our true communication from God after we were thrown out of the Garden of Eden. Ever since then, humanity has had this eternal desire to try and get that counsel back, but we can't. So you have various religions trying to make heads or tails of what could happen. Some commit to praise, some commit to manipulation, some commit to submission (as seen by the occult in the film), some commit to violence (like the current insurgents of any religion) and some commit to the ultimate evil (as seen by the condemned to death "witch" in the film).
I've always felt that religion is a flawed concept, like any ideal belief. It can be twisted and arranged for personal gain, whether it be for one person or an entire country. I don't doubt that God exists, but what upsets me is how people can use their own moral compass and knowledge to cause pain and sadness all over the world. All because God "told them so..."
In the end, Antonius is just scared, just like we all are. We are scared because we don't know. We don't know what even life holds for us. Does that make me scared about what awaits my future? You bet it does. I prefer living in the moment and put off thinking about it as much as possible. It's not that I'm existential or nihilistic, I just get very scared thinking about what's ahead of me. Normally, I like having a steady mental ground under me and when life shifts sharply and unexpectedly, I start feeling like my world is coming down on me and become more and more overwhelmed. Strong change without warning reduces me to a frightened child. So it helps when changes are talked out and understood by me beforehand. They make transitions much easier.
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I also had the pleasure of watching "Blade Runner" for the first time as well. The Final Cut mind you, which I personally waited for. The movie does not display the smooth talking, nicely suited and elegant world of noir. Instead we get a moody, atmospheric, dank and bleak world of future Los Angeles, 2019. In this world, replicants (human-like machines) are being hunted down and killed by blade runners, notably Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), to prevent revolts and murders.
Although you could debate forever on the state of Deckard's mind and whether he's a replicant or not (I believe he isn't), the most intriguing element of the film came from the lead female, Rachel (Sean Young; pictured left). I have no doubt in my mind that she's a replicant, but I'm fascinated by the idea of these machines being "more human than human." If that's the case, I was absorbed by how reserved and emotionally introverted she was. Beneath her mechanics beats the heart of a broken woman. She is a representation of suppressed and unfelt emotion.
Why is that? As a person who usually expresses what he feels openly, it strikes me somewhat unusually that so many people live as if they never feel anything at all. Sure, there's a lot of hardships that we must endure, but should that stop us from expressing the wonder of being alive. I mean, I even just get a kick out of listening to a great song on my iPod. It makes me dance, play air instruments, sing and roleplay. Living in the moment, even if it's in your imagination, is what life's about, son.
Hi, my name is Sam and I'm an autistic arts lover; though what I just said is kind of contradictory. In a lot of ways, I shouldn't be a arts lover. I become uneasy during long continuous stimulation, I'm impatient, my thoughts drift, my mind goes a thousand miles a minute and I don't like to go out unless I feel like it. But, I'm bonded deeply with the art of film and music because they (as well as TV in a smaller way) have literally saved my life.
When I was young, many experts thought that I would not be able to communicate properly outside my own world, like many autistics. But I was also blessed with an innate sense of memory and imitation. Through the films that I watched and the music that I listened to, I began to build a knowledge of phrasing. Miraculously, I found that I could use quotes and song lyrics to communicate how I felt or thought. Also, films and songs gave me a window to the typical world, a world I couldn't grasp. Then, using quotes and lyrics as a basis, I began forming my own style of speech and connection. Which all lead me to where I am today; I'm a sound, happy and proud cinephile and audiophile.
Now, I may not see or listen to everything that comes my way, which may alienate some people. But as I said earlier, I can't handle continuous mounting stimulation, so I will miss out on some cool things until much later. Though I assure you this passion I have means the world to me and it never diminishes for any reason, including myself.
I hope you all enjoy my blog and continue reading my thought on the things I care about.
Cherry blossoms are in full bloom and falling along the paved landscape, leading down the street to where two train tracks lie, together but apart, going in opposite directions. A man walks along this road he has been down many times before and knows instinctively that he must cross the track in order to continue his desperate contemplation. On the other side of this marker is a woman walking along the same pathway who approaches the track with the same thought and purpose. As the man and woman pass one another as they are crossing, a quiet jolt of emotion comes back. Was that the girl he once knew? Was that the boy she first loved? They keep walking apart silently until they reach their respective other sides. As the caution signals come down they both remain still, not really sure of what to do next. When they slowly begin to turn their heads to look at one another, a train passes by with surefire precision. The man waited until the train had passed, but by then, she was gone. Faded into memory.
