I’ve been meaning to get
around to watching Genius Party for a long while. Well, today turned out
to be a good day for it, because I had set aside some time to marathon Natsume
Yuujinchou, only to find I only had series 4 to watch. So as I was in the
mood for something new rather than something I’ve been watching for a while, I
fixed on Genius Party.
If the title makes you expect
a rave with a Tales of Symphonia character, have another think, and
forget modesty. This compilation film is rather in the vein of Fuyu no Hi
– several respected directors get a chance to show off their stuff. This is
somewhat of a lesser project, though, in terms of its inception – it’s not
international, every director represented here being Japanese, it’s not linked
by a stab at being high-concept like the Basshou theme there, and the animation
is done entirely by Studio 4°C.
When it was made in 2007, the studio were clearly very keen to put their stamp
down as a highly capable, quirky and arty studio, building on their contribution
to The Animatrix, the pleasantly oddball Tekkon Kinkreet and the
wonderful Mahou Shoujotai Arusu. Of course, over the next few years,
they were not exactly highly idiosyncratic, getting bogged down in animating Transformers:
Animated and the ill-fated Thundercats revival, with not much else
to show for their newly-established place in the anime world but the
entertaining but not exactly ground-breaking Detroit Metal City and
their game-related animation like the cutscenes for Catherine and one of
the Kid Icarus shorts.
Divorced from the studio
history, however, all the component parts of Genius Party are
interesting in their own rights, though in no way make up a cohesive whole.
Essentially they are linked only by being together in this compilation.
The first segment is the
eponymous Genius Party, directed by veteran female key animator Fukushima
Atsuko. Having contributed to Akira and Kiki’s Delivery Service,
she’s worked with the best, though I’d like to see her helm more than this
oddball segment. In a very music video-like sequence, a lanky dark-skinned man
in a very strange burlap bird outfit hunts the hearts from little living stone
faces in the desert. Most hide, but one is caught tripping out with a glowing
flower. The bird-man gobbles down its heart and gains glowing wings, flying up
to the sky. The flower, too, has floated up high and the bird-man eats it,
becoming a shooting start. Whether as a result or by coincidence, clouds form
an bright sparks rain down, restoring the soul of the little stone face whose
heart was eaten. The shooting star bird-man returns to fly about and the stone
faces show their approval with big glowing hearts, which pop suggestively when
they’re most excited. One gets so stimulated it projects a giant trippy
energy-flower into the night sky, which also becomes a bird. One of the heads
becomes a huge, clearly living thing. This is clearly about inspiration and
creativity inspiring all those around you...but how exactly is pretty
subjective. It’s a bit of trippy vagueness that is very enjoyable visually but
ultimately says little of importance.
Next is an offering from
Kawamuri Shouji, the man who went from helping design Optimus Prime and other
original Diaclone proto-Transformers to creating Escaflowne and designing
mechas for Ghost in the Shell and Eureka
Third is Kimura Shinji’s Deathtic
4, with CG shaded to look like a grim gothic children’s book – with a heavy
Burton influence. Kimura is
comparatively unknown, but was art director for Steamboy and Tekkon
Kinkreet. In a world of zombies who speak a kind of Japanesey Swedish, a boy
gets in trouble when he finds a living frog. It’s a good effort and I love the
art style, but attempts to inject action and fart jokes fall flat. A slow, meditative,
creepy pace would’ve worked better.
Mangaka Fukuyama Youji’s Doorbell is next, and
the nadir of the film. Hideously ugly designs, bad CG and an overdone
doppelganger storyline make this one to skip on any repeat viewings.
Futamura Hideki’s Limit
Cycle is almost as bad, a faux-intellectual discourse on utilitarianism and
existentialism that rambles on and on. Futamura is another key animator, though
directed some bits and pieces like some episodes of the old Jojo’s OVAs,
and this gets a pass from being a disaster for striking visuals. It’s all so
juvenile, though. So 6th-form artwork.
Of course, the main draw here
for me was Yuasa Masaaki’s Happy Machine. As a confirmed Yuasa fanboy,
this short was everything I hoped his Adventure Time episode would be –
and wasn’t. A surreal yet moving story of a baby discovering mortality, it had
the odd yet coherent and sometimes stunningly smooth animation of Kemonozume,
the freewheeling plot of Mind Game and some of the emotionally affecting qualities of
his Wakfu episode. It had pee and poop and farts, yet the infantile
qualities suited it, and didn’t seem embarrassing at all. Strange and yet
moving, it was everything I hoped for from Yuasa, and makes me happy he could
go on to direct Kaiba soon after.
Finally, big hitter Watanabe
Shin’ichirou brings us Baby Blue, which is also well worth the hypothetical
price of admission. The story of two students escaping ennui with an impromptu
trip to the beach with a hand grenade, it succeeds primarily by being very
straight, with superb naturalistic dialogue. The fantasy of blowing up an
old-fashioned yankii gang helps, too. This is perhaps the most ordinary work
here, but also the most mature and most meaningful – and beautiful.
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