But all of that changes when Shiro meets a girl named Riquinni Nonderaiko on a street corner as she hands out pamphlets about her religion, begging people to believe in God during these turbulent times. After discussing space travel and what it might feel like to leave the sins of Earth behind, Shiro is inspired to volunteer as the world's first astronaut. Unfortunately, as the rocket nears completion, the government begins to twist the original intentions of the project, attempting to use it to start a war with a rival nation.

Wings of Honneamise consistently ranks among one of the most beloved classic films in anime history — to the point that Bandai Entertainment America's top-quality DVD label is called "Honneamise." It's not a surprising position to hold, since the film is definitely a very poignant rumination on humanity and our relationship with technology and each other. Unfortunately, Honneamise is also the first major project from a brand-new studio, and it shows.

Now Gainax has always been known for their acute sense of aesthetics, and Honneamise is no exception. Despite the fact that this was their first project, the cityscapes and visions of civil unrest are at times comparable to scenes from Akira (1988), a film that was released a year later by the larger, more established Tokyo Movie Shinsha. When nothing exciting is happening on screen, there can be a noticeable drop in the framerate, but whenever an exquisitely animated piece of technology shows up, it's hard not to pick up on the love that the animators put into this project.

Such an attitude carries over to nearly every facet of this film. It is, without a doubt, a sci-fi flick made by fans for fans, with its lingering shots of engines and planes, and meticulously thought-out alternate universe (spoons are triangular, books open upwards, etc.). An unfortunate symptom of this inordinate time spent on presentation is that Honneamise is just too slow. It plods along, throwing some genuinely funny little moments between Shiro and his friends, but rarely shows anything — besides a botched assassination attempt — that gets the blood pumping.

Nevertheless, once it all comes to its powerful climax during the launch sequence, the entire first part of the movie is forgotten. This is what everybody has been waiting for — the characters, the audience, and yes, even the animators. The launch has a feeling of release, as the dreams of not only Shiro and Riquinni, but also humanity itself, are fulfilled. It’s a soaring, achingly beautiful climax, reminiscent in certain ways of many of Hayao Miyazaki’s most brilliant flying scenes. (1992's Porco Rosso being the most immediate comparison.)

In that moment, Honneamise is a surprisingly powerful film. If you ever dreamed of going to space as a kid, dreamed of staring back at Earth from hundreds of miles above the surface, Honneamise is a movie that is built for you. It is made by people who feel a childlike excitement at the thought of space travel, and their love for the subject shines through in every line of dialogue and every cel of animation. While not always a confirmation of technical skill or directorial vision, Wings of Honneamise stands among the few animated films that truly deserve the cliché of being called “triumphs of the imagination.”

[Recommended]

This review is based on a DVD borrowed from the Rensselaer Sci-Fi Assn. anime library.

Related Links:

• Gerald Rathkolb's review of the film on the Anime World Order podcast
• Jeff Tatarek's Wings of Honneamise AMV, featuring Pink Floyd's "Learning To Fly"

The extraneous elements removed from this adaptation are many in number, but none are worth mourning the loss of. The main beneficiary of this trimming is, rather surprisingly, the quieter moments in between the massive robot battles which have greater deal of clarity and impact due to the tighter writing. In particular, the fluctuating relationship between Shinji and his father is explored in a new depth, making it a much more tangible element in the storyline than simply a sterile case of “whiny brat hates his asshole dad.” One downside of this compression is that the relationships between Shinji and Rei/Asuka lose much of their subtlety. At some points the movie feels like it has switched genre to a harmless harem comedy show following a love triangle of socially useless robot pilots.

The film itself looks utterly amazing, with almost mind-wrecking detail lavished into the art and the robot models in particular. The Angel designs have had a complete overhaul and some pivotal examples have been re-worked with almost sick levels of care. The fights themselves sport amazing CG animation and are utterly engrossing in how they are presented for the most part — unlike other recent films that shall remain nameless. You can easily follow the fight and appreciate the overall tide of the battle, drawing you in. Fans of the original, who may think they know how every fight turns out, will be met by some surprising variations that keep the film feeling fresh and punish you for assuming that it is merely a remake of the original series. While the music during the quieter moments follows the previously used themes and leitmotifs from the TV show, the fight scenes have an all-new pulse-pounding score that amplifies the impact of the action to explosive levels.

It’s not without flaw though — there are times when the movie loses its way and forcibly ejects you from the experience. Most notable of these is the entirety of the first fight scene, which feels very roughly conceived and edited. You are introduced to a new character, mecha, and setting, but are never given time to absorb and appreciate what is being shown on the screen. I, for one, have no clear recollection of what the new Evangelion featured in this battle even looked like! One particular gripe, and one I assume will be fixed for the DVD/BD, is that most of the characters in this scene speak in mumbling "Engrish" at a level just barely louder than the surrounding battle.

Thankfully this poor presentation does not infect the rest of the film, but then neither does the newly introduced character. Strangely, she only appears and interacts with the principal cast twice for the entire rest of the film. While the things she does are important to the overall plot, you can’t help but feel that she was roughly shoehorned into the proceedings by an over-eager intern who would burst into meetings waving his new character design around. I imagine him saying something like:

“Duuuuuudes! You gotta include her; she has glasses and a ponytail! Plus, she has a bigger chest, so we can use her for the trademark Gainax Bounce!” At which point everyone cheered and went out for a round or five of drinks.

When they got back from having nine drinks each, the staff set to work on my personal pet peeve of the entire movie: CG people in the background of scenes. It wrenched me out of the film entirely to see tiny, stiff polygonal people from Quake 2 stuttering in the background of scenes that needed to include some humans for atmosphere. I hope they fix this for the inevitable revised version as in this theatrical version it looks just plain cheap and nasty.

These small flaws are all utterly forgotten, however, in the exuberant blur of activity that is the last 30 minutes or so. At this point the movie stops joking around and ramps every setting it can up to 11, utterly destroying any doubts you may have had festering about the film or the direction of the series overall. In remaking what was already a pivotal part of the original TV series, the creators went all out in providing a mind-blowing ending that left the cinema audience cheering through the end credits. I dare not spoil a single second of it, but I implore you not to leave your seat until after the credits are done or else you will miss the single craziest thing of the entire film, one which bodes well for the two that are to follow. I already can't wait to get my hands on the Blu-ray version so I can see it all again.

[Highly Recommended]

This review is based on a theatrical version of Evangelion 2.0 shown at the London BFI Cinema as part of its Biannual Anime Weekend. Admission and all related expenses were paid for by the reviewer.

However, it is in episode 4 that the series hits its first climax, with Noriko launching for the first time in the prototype "Gunbuster" robot. The first three episodes have already established the tensions between the three girls and their coach, while the first half of episode 4 establishes Noriko's dejection over being "benched" during the battle raging outside. Suddenly, the girl transforms her grief over Smith's death and her ensuing space phobia into an intense hatred for the "space monsters" that killed the boy she loved, and jumps in Gunbuster to face off against the army of enemies.

Here director Hideaki Anno (Evangelion, Nadia) shows a firm understanding of what makes a good crescendo in music, and translates that knowledge into animation. His instruments are the characters, their interactions, the art itself, the cinematography, and of course, the background music. For the crescendo to work, these things must be present in some form throughout the earlier part of the series, but we mustn't notice them as a coherent whole. They must creep up on us, until we eventually realize that we have come to the culmination of everything the series has presented thus far.

With only six episodes to tell its grand, time-bending story, Gunbuster only achieves two (arguably three) climaxes of this sort, but with its 27-episode span, Gurren Lagann has time to pull off a number of mini-crescendos. Most notably, the one at the end of episode 8, in which Kamina pushes Simon to put his all into a battle for the first time, has all the trappings of a Gunbuster climax. Simon's slow growth as a pilot and a young man is moved along concurrently with a romantic subplot between Kamina and Yoko, and in the final moments of the scene, it all comes together as Kamina gives Simon the push he needs before tragically dying, thereby crushing both Simon's morale and Yoko's hopes for the future.

However, there is another very important type of crescendo that Gainax uses in both shows, one whose scope is far grander than that of the mini-crescendos leading into each little climax. What gives both series such an uplifting, empowering tone is a sense of constant, steady crescendo throughout the show. In both Gunbuster and Gurren Lagann, Gainax achieves this through the steady magnification of scale, moving the size of the robots and ships up until they become powerful enough to toy with such unthinkable tools as the galaxies themselves.

In Gunbuster, Anno and his team achieve this effect through an accelerated sense of time, as relativity's effects send the characters far into the future every time they warp across the universe. Every time that they return to Earth, technology has continued its inevitable march forward, and the girls find spaceships that have grown to multiple orders greater than the size of the ship they served on. In fact, humanity even progresses so far that they are capable of compressing Jupiter itself into an unthinkably massive, galaxy-smashing bomb.

In Gurren Lagann, on the other hand, Gainax uses hidden enemy technology to move the scale forward, as Team Gurren finds larger and larger weapons for it to use against the Beastmen — and later the Anti-Spirals. Granted, Gunbuster more directly speaks to the unending power of humanity to advance, reaching higher and higher heights through our ingenuity and determination, but Gurren Lagann argues — just as solidly — for the human desire to survive, and our ability to do absolutely anything to ensure that survival. (Naturally, both shows share both themes in some form.)

In the end, that is what has made both Gunbuster and Gurren Lagann so incredibly popular for their respective eras. Both bring us along for a powerful, steady crescendo, as we watch the characters — indeed humankind itself — rise further and further into the heavens. Gunbuster and Gurren Lagann are all about triumph, and their ability to pull us along for every triumph, from the large-scale battles for the universe to the most basic of emotions, is what makes them as "musically" beautiful as they are simply entertaining.

So how about the conflict? What drives these characters to do what they do, and keeps the viewer interested enough to move from episode to episode? Well, nothing! The first few episodes feature Nagi and Jin trying to capture and destroy "impurities," evil spirits (or something like that) in the shape of black insects. What are the impurities and why does Nagi need to destroy them? It's not really explained, but the show sure does make a big deal about these things at the beginning.

Later the show focuses on Nagi and Zange trying to outdo each other at being teenage idols. The reason for that conflict is weak as well, with the only explanation being that the two need to gain followers to increase their powers as goddesses. Curiously, though, their "powers" never seem to manifest into anything remotely useful. This arc in particular highlights the show's obsession with the otaku subculture, especially its uncomfortable tendency to pander to its audience at every single turn with teen idols, magical girls, and maid cafés.

The middle of Kannagi forgets about BOTH of these conflicts and lapses into pure comedy, with a few episodes about Nagi locking herself in a closet, a karaoke trip, and other silliness. Here the show really shines, as it takes its very simple, one-dimensional cast and uses their comedic strengths – much like 2006's enjoyable The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya – to pull off some surprisingly funny scenes.

Finally, it all comes back to a dramatic trio of episodes at the end that seems like a half-hearted attempt to transform the characters of the previous ten episodes into real human beings that the audience should care about. However, when Kannagi's excuse for character introduction is a girl listing off the archetypes that each character fits into, it's only natural that an attempt at real development meets with some massive cognitive dissonance. A few moments in the final episode or two might provoke some real emotion, but mostly you will just want to punch Jin for turning into Shinji Ikari at the last moment.

The biggest central conflict that Kannagi has going for it is the romantic relationship developing between Jin and Nagi, but it falls flat in this as well. Unlike Haruhi Suzumiya (also directed by Yutaka Yamamoto), which had a similarly subdued romantic conflict between a deadpan guy and an impatient, immature girl, Kannagi doesn't have a romantic payoff (the kiss scene in Haruhi). Admittedly this is because Kannagi is based on a manga that has not finished, and the show was intended to have a second season, so it is hard to fault the folks at A-1 Pictures for the weakness in the narrative. However, it undoubtedly weakens the first (and only) season as a stand-alone show.

With all of this negative talk, you might think that I hated everything about Kannagi, but that is certainly not the case. The animation, for one, is beautiful, and it is clear that animating the character's movements – Nagi's in particular – got a lot of focus from the team. The show might not look as beautiful as Haruhi, which was particularly noticeable for its stellar animation, but it's one of the closest things you can find out there in terms of both animation and art direction.

Oddly enough, the background music at the beginning is impressive, using a lot of interesting electronic instrumentation rarely found in anime background music, but later episodes cut back on the use of Satoru Kousaki's fascinating, emotive music in favor of uninspired instrumental versions of the opening and ending themes.

Despite its technical high points, when it comes down to it Kannagi is a waste of time. The show features characters defined only by the archetypes they fit into, but instead of consistently using this potential weakness to the show's comedic benefit, Kurata spends an inordinate amount of time on poorly executed drama and an unsatisfying romantic plot. Still, the most pressing issue that I have with Kannagi is that it simply has nothing to say. At the end of the experience, I was left with only a feeling of, "well yes, that happened." A goddess moved in with a boy, they did some silly stuff that sometimes made me laugh, and they both sort of like each other. Behind all of the big-eyed teenage girls and the half-baked attempts at romantic comedy, Kannagi has no substance, and that is ultimately its greatest failure.

weak.

A rather interesting aspect of any show that is rarely given any credence, much less justification or explanation, is the opening/closing credit sequences. While demanded by the studio (probably due to the success of Haruhi Suzumiya), Yamamoto ensured they would be metaphorical. The opening was expressive of the main character’s pop-idol attributes, while the closing exemplified her more divine aspects (minds out of the gutter, boys. We’re talking spirits and goddesses, not heavenly curves).

In a reverse Q&A session, seeing as the Americans already got to ask their questions, Yamamoto was asked to pose any queries he might have for the American production staff or fans. His question was concerned with how viewers in the United States would accept the divine aspect of the series. Seemingly expecting negative feedback, Yamamoto’s face beamed as his translator conveyed that members of the panel audience said that America is big enough to accept all ideologies, that it welcomes the stories of other cultures in their own context without feeling encroached upon/preached unto, and that spirituality in art can be taken metaphorically and without offense.

On a side note, however, the Bandai press release regarding their Otakon panel had a quote from Napton regarding the potential for Kannagi moving to brick-and-morter retailers later on: "Furthermore, when we do make this sub only version available to the mass retailers at some point down the line it will be the same product for a HIGHER SRP – not less expensive as being speculated, so the obvious inference is to get it for less, get it NOW." It sounds like Bandai is planning to ease Kannagi into the mainstream market instead of shoving it out there and crossing their fingers as they did with Haruhi and Lucky Star.

Other than all the industry inside baseball, there were a few small announcements, mostly pertaining to the many events that Bandai has been heavily promoting. One of their biggest new events is the theatrical screening of the Eureka Seven 'good night, sleep tight, young lovers' movie, which will be seen in "approximately 432" theaters on September 24, 2009. Additionally, if fans show up in cosplay at the event and send pictures of themselves in costume to Anime Cosplay Paradise, they can win prizes from Bandai. The distributor will also hold a "Eureka Seven Day" to celebrate the film's release on September 20th at Kinokuniya Bookstores, in conjunction with the New York Anime Festival, as always.

And as a final note, when Mr. Napton asked members of the audience to "raise your hands if you bought Kannagi in the Dealer's Room today," the crowd of screaming and cheering Nagi fans all dropped their flailing hands. One guy sort of half-raised his hand before he realized that he was the only one. How's that for a visual representation of the pirating problem with otaku?

And on that note, I just want to say that this is a terrible time to make this announcement. I was unable to post about the announcement when it came out because I was sitting on a charter bus that was thens speeding me toward Baltimore. For countless other bloggers and journalists who were also either on their way to Otakon or checking into their Baltimore hotel rooms, this announcement only got to them later in the night at the earliest. Bandai probably would have gotten a veritable explosion of publicity had they announced this at 3:00 on Wednesday, but instead, they've caught a significant portion of the anime press world by surprise.

I've waited a long time for an anime like this. I remember being a hot-blooded teenager, thrilling over Dragon Ball Z, Ronin Warriors and, yes, even Sailor Moon. When a character wanted something, they yelled louder, lights appeared from nowhere, and they achieved the impossible. It's that moment in anime when willpower and desire are personified, and every hair on your arm stands up on end. If it weren't for the visual barrage of colorful characters and hypnotic robot battles, Gurren Lagann's predictability and formula would murder its potential. But it's almost too good to dismiss as another kids show overloaded with toy company fodder.

From there, the formula is set in place. Just as good as it is bad, you cannot shake off Gurren Lagann's almost cop-out ability to drill through every obstacle imaginable the same way every time. Whenever there is a chance of emotional development and a deep meaning, a bigger robot appears and the human's flagship mecha, Gurren Lagann, makes an even bigger drill, penetrates the enemy robot, and pounds its way to a lightshow of victory.

Gainax's distinctive choppy animation style that they embraced during FLCL adds a level of spunk and pep that compliments the chromatically intense visuals. Staying on the visuals, the eyecatches are some of the... catchiest I've seen since Cowboy Bebop, in that they stand out with a raw and colorful style on their own. The fights are way over-the-top and can easily lead to an epileptic breakdown without proper lighting or medication on hand. Lagann's animators use old-school cell-paint techniques, which are severely lacking these days in anime; I'm getting tired of bland and depthless 3D rendered backgrounds. And because this is a Gainax anime, no drill-to-penis innuendo is too low nor too overt; in fact very little is spared. Yoko provides the essential "Gainax-bounce" and her fiery brassiere top becomes a character on its own.

Take the fan gushing with a grain of salt: Kamina's unlimited "fighting spirit" becomes obnoxious quicker than expected. The over-the-top ego drills on your nerves, but it all leads up to the more fascinating and challenging second part of the series. Without any spoilers, I will say this about the second season: think Watchmen or Squadron Supreme, when the righteous make the wrong choices for the right reasons.

Bang Zoom delivers a fantastic dub. Steve Blum goes way off-character to play Leeron, the effeminate tech-head. A-lister Kyle Hebert does a great performance as Kamina, bringing full bravado and macho suave to the all-around badass Kamina. This cast was very carefully put together, and the precision of voice director Tony Oliver paid off fantastically. For more details, check out our podcast episode that Evan recorded at the New York Anime Festival – still jealous over that, Minto!

But suspension of disbelief set aside, Gurren Lagann is worth it – without a doubt. This wasn't the smartest anime, nor the deepest, but it never tried to be. It just tried to be a good ride with robots – and even a bitter, jaded fan like me couldn't help but fall head-over-heels for it.

great.

• Karl "Uncle Yo" Custer: Tekkon Kinkreet (Studio 4°C)
• Mitchell "MitchyD" Dyer: Gurren Lagann (Gainax)
• "Ink": Welcome to the NHK (Gonzo)
• Maxwell "Pigeonflu" McGee: Gurren Lagann (Gainax)
• Evan "Vampt Vo" Minto: The Girl Who Leapt Through Time (Madhouse)
• "Yumeka": Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion (Sunrise)

At first glance, 1.0 looks like a recap movie. But Anno and his team have put a fresh coat of computer-graphics-tasting paint over his creation, adding immense 3D graphics and details to every last nut and bolt of Nerv's HQ. Scenes with vague backgrounds have been revisited and placed in locker rooms, jazz clubs, elevator shafts, and military prep rooms, grounding viewers into paying even more attention to the dialog. Action scenes have abandoned the framing-and-flashback technique and become straight-forward fights. Angels now bleed, spark and then explode. With today's computers, Anno has added very complex lighting effects, which help create a greater contrast between domestic and action scenes.

This revision of Eva is loaded with new dialogs, scenes, shots and colors which develop Shinji's story by putting every scene, at last, into a coherent context.

That's right, I said coherent Eva. I know, I was surprised too!

This may be the best thing to happen to Evangelion since Prozac. For the first time, the story is told chronologically and tersely. Anno's reworking of the script has eliminated the space and time disorientation that kept the original cut of Eva enigmatic. Hopefully, Evangelion 1.0 will resurrect the series for a new generation of otaku, allowing potential fans to dedicate an evening (rather than an entire semester) to watching and, more importantly, understanding Eva.

On the downside, Evangelion fans may not be comfortable with the hasty pacing and Anno's choices to completely cut out fluff and humor scenes. Some of the surrealism and existentialism remains, but it does not interrupt the action or the plot. Can I get a "Hallelujah?" Story-wise, we still follow Shinij, though he remains as meek and spineless as ever. We should remember, however, that Evangelion 1.0 had one goal to establish: to focus on Shinji's fear of reaching out and taking responsibility. By the end of this first installment, you feel like he has made a valiant effort.

There may yet be hope for Shinji…unless you've already seen Death and Rebirth.

I think Hideaki Anno has gone back, tightened up some loose ends, edited down, and put significant thought into this terse update of his masterpiece. Congratulations.

Animation:		3.5		Average: (3.375 stars)
Plot:		3.0
Voice Acting:		NR
Sound:		3.0
Overall:		4.0