1001 Animations You Must See Before You Die #1-10
So I started doing lists of my favorite animated films and TV shows from the previous year last year. Animation has been a special interest of mine since high school, so I decided to bring some of that love to my blog. As I celebrate the contemporary triumphs of the art form, however, I didn’t want to leave the past behind, as there is a vibrant history spanning back more than a century.
Luckily, I had been composing a Word document inspired by that 1001 Before You Die series of books, which never had an entry dealing specifically with animation. The initial spark that made me begin that document was this article by Vulture magazine called “The 100 Most Influential Sequences in Animation,” which I found while scrolling through the Twitter account of popular anime YouTuber Mother’s Basement. From there, I filled the list with entries from lists of the greatest animated films, TV shows, shorts, music videos, etc. Like I said at the end of the second 2023 films list, I’m probably not in the least bit qualified to make a list like this. Still, I’ve gone and done it already, so I might as well get some use out of it!
Here’s how this series will work: I plug every one hundred numbers into a random number generator (1-100, 101-200, 201-300, and so on) and review whatever entries the number falls upon. Granted, I haven’t followed these guidelines for all the entries; I had to swap out Brain Powerd and 2010’s Colorful for Mulan and Paprika, respectively, because I couldn’t find either of them on any legal streaming services (not even a bootleg version on YouTube or Vimeo or the Internet Archive). Still, I think the ten I have selected for this first entry are a good start.
I’ve taken the liberty of posting the full list on my DeviantArt account here. I may edit it depending on whether I find some other notable animations I missed the first time around. Indeed, I’ve already had to edit it a few times, including after discovering that I’d somehow put Turning Red on it twice (What can I say? It’s a good one!). Feel free to peruse the list yourself and see if you agree with my choices. I’m open to suggestions. Hell, I’ve already noticed some entries in the header image that I don’t have on my list.
For now, though, let’s get started on this bad boy!
#81: Reason and Emotion
Release date: August 28, 1943
Distributor: RKO Radio Pictures
Production company: Walt Disney Productions
Director: Bill Roberts
Producer: Walt Disney
Writers: Joe Grant, Dick Huemer
Music: Oliver Wallace
It might not have the same notoriety as other WWII-era Disney propaganda shorts like Der Führer’s Face, but Reason and Emotion has still proven to have staying power thanks to its insightful commentary on how fascism worms its way into otherwise decent people’s brains.
The eight-minute short follows a set of characters as they navigate life while Reason and Emotion (personified as a soft-spoken gentleman in a suit and a gruff and impulsive caveman, respectively) argue over who gets to be in control of their host body’s brain. We follow a man whose Reason is born after he falls down a flight of stairs as a baby, and whose Emotion gets him in trouble later in life after catcalling a woman on the street. We then follow that woman’s Reason and Emotion as they argue over how their host handled the catcalling situation and whether or not the woman should indulge herself at a restaurant and risk ruining her figure in the process.
When the man’s Reason and Emotion start going at each other’s throats, the narrator butts in to warn the two of what happens to a mind that doesn’t keep Reason and Emotion balanced by showing them the mind of a German citizen listening to Adolf Hitler’s speeches. The American duo watch in horror as the German Emotion clobbers the German Reason into submission and locks him in a mini concentration camp when he tries to criticize the Führer’s rhetoric. The chastened duo vow to work as a team to keep their host’s emotions in check, to, in the narrator’s words, “control the emotion inside our heads, lest it control us and make us vulnerable to Hitler’s vile fearmongering.”
The short is not without its flaws. The psychology presented therein can come across as oversimplified to modern eyes, and the transition to the wartime propaganda content in the second half feels somewhat abrupt (Disney apparently agreed, since they made a version with the wartime propaganda excised after the war ended). Also, the narrator telling Emotion that one of his jobs is to “discriminate” can undoubtedly cause modern viewers in a post-Jim Crow America to do a double-take, even if he clearly meant it in a “recognizing distinctions” kind of way.
Despite this, the short still has plenty of helpful advice even for modern listeners. The scene showing a man going out of his mind listening to sensationalist news (another instance of Emotion overpowering Reason) is still resonant today in an era where fake news is a constant and annoying problem, especially from right-wing sources. The scene where the narrator explains the divisive and manipulative tactics Hitler used to sway his followers is also relevant in an era where governments headed by similar right-wing strongmen are popping up left and right, including pandering to the German people’s fear, anger, and patriotic fervor, and shedding crocodile tears over how he supposedly wants to live in peace with his neighbors but keeps getting bullied by other countries (Reason quickly sees through this lie, but Emotion bonks him with a club and accuses him of bullying the Führer).
Disney might not have any use for this anti-fascist masterpiece nowadays (and there are definitely more sophisticated and detailed explanations about how average people fall for fascist rhetoric out there), but even if Reason and Emotion doesn’t amount to much more than a “babie’s first parable about the dangers of authoritarianism,” it’s a damn good one. Besides, if we didn’t have this, we probably wouldn’t have Pixar’s Inside Out (the film’s director, Pete Docter, has named the short as a key influence on his film).
#112: The Dynamite Brothers
Release date: 1949
Distributor: Union Film
Production company: Pagot Film
Directors/producers/writers: Nino and Tony Pagot
Music: Giuseppe Piazzi
This Golden Age Italian feature (one of the oldest surviving animated films to come out of Europe) follows a trio of mischievous brothers named Dan, Don, and Din, who become shipwrecked on a deserted island off the coast of Africa as toddlers and are raised by the island’s wildlife. When fur trappers arrive and bring the triplets back to Italy, they find themselves in a series of episodic misadventures in which they indulge in their love of music and pranks. They get captured by demons and taken down to Hell itself, only to annoy the Devil with their antics. They try to join a symphony orchestra during a performance, with hilariously disastrous results. Finally, they arrive at the Carnival of Venice, where they cause a riot during a singing contest and attempt to help a little girl find a doll she dropped into the canal.
The whole film almost plays out like a Looney Tunes-style parody of Pinocchio, as the three brothers bumble their way through Italian society trying to find their proper place in it. The film is brimming with creativity, from the macabre visuals of the Hell sequence (where the Devil forces a group of school children to dress up in animal skins for his amusement) to clever gags like the brothers somehow pulling down a double-bass’ pants to spank it and a harp suddenly turning into a hideous skeletal creature. Granted, the slapstick can go a little too over the top in its madcap insanity at times, but it’s still fascinating to watch.
Some may prefer Italy’s other 1949 feature, La Rosa di Bagdad, for its more coherent plot over The Dynamite Brothers’ anthology format (though I haven’t seen the former yet, so I wouldn’t know). Also, don’t expect this film to be readily available in English. Indeed, the version I watched was a YouTube bootleg in the original Italian with no subtitles. I could still follow what was going on, partly by reading the plot summary on Wikipedia and partly by the film doing what Golden Age cartoons do best: relying on visuals to tell the story just as much as the dialogue (though I still can’t tell which of the brothers is Dan and which is Don and so on). Also, those sensitive to racial stereotypes in old-timey animation should beware the African crew members on the doomed ship at the beginning. What can I say? It was the 1940s.
It’s hard not to appreciate what this film sets out to do, especially considering that it took seven years to make, with a WWII bombing raid apparently destroying its original drawings at one point. Still, it’s hard for me to know how much appeal The Dynamite Brothers has outside of those interested in the history of animation.
#244: Snoopy, Come Home
Release date: August 9, 1972
Distributor: National General Pictures
Production companies: Cinema Center Films, Lee Mendelson/Bill Melendez Productions, Spowith Productions
Director/co-producer: Bill Melendez
Co-producer: Lee Mendelson
Writer: Charles M. Schulz
Music: Don Ralke (score): Robert and Richard Sherman (songs)
The second feature film starring the cast of Charles M. Schulz’s classic comic strip, Peanuts, centers on Snoopy (Bill Melendez), who is forced into a dilemma of dual loyalties when he receives a letter from his original owner, a girl named Lila (Johanna Baer), who was forced to send Snoopy back to the puppy mill when she had to move and is currently hospitalized. A worried Snoopy sets off on a journey with his feathery sidekick Woodstock (also Melendez) in tow, leaving Charlie Brown (Chad Webber) and his friends depressed and wondering what they did to drive him away. But can Snoopy really bring himself to abandon his longtime owner for a girl who hasn’t been in his life for years?
Nowadays, Snoopy, Come Home is probably best remembered as the most emotional and depressing entry in the animated Peanuts canon; indeed, it may not surprise you that Charles Schulz was going through a rough divorce when he wrote it. The story doesn’t pull any punches in showing how hard both Charlie and Snoopy are taking their potential separation, especially during the “It Changes” and “Snoopy, Come Home” song sequences and during Snoopy’s going-away party. It really goes to show how much the two genuinely value each other’s company despite how much they get on each other’s nerves sometimes.
But the story isn’t all doom and gloom. It’s also got plenty of the classic laid-back comedy stylings of other Peanuts projects, like Woodstock trying to navigate a sidewalk grate without falling in, the strange situations Charlie finds himself in at the carnival when Peppermint Patty (Christopher DeFaria) takes him there to cheer him up, the boxing match between Snoopy and Lucy (Robin Kohn), and the sequence where Snoopy and Woodstock are held prisoner by Clara (Linda Ercoli), a girl so dangerously affectionate to her pets that she makes Elmyra Duff of Tiny Toon Adventures fame look sane in comparison. Linus (Stephen Shea) also gets several funny lines, like when he chastises Charlie for throwing a rock into the ocean (“Nice going, Charlie Brown! It took that rock thousands of years to get to shore, and now you’ve thrown it back!”) and the famous line, “You got a used dog, Charlie Brown.”
The film’s music also deserves mention, despite being the only Peanuts film not to be scored by Vince Guaraldi during his lifetime. Instead, the score was composed by Don Ralke, who manages to emulate Guaraldi’s jazzy stylings perfectly (the bombastic music for Snoopy and Lucy’s boxing match being a particular highlight). The film also features songs composed by the Sherman Brothers in a conscious effort to emulate the Disney films of the era. In addition to the sad songs mentioned above, other highlights of the song soundtrack include “The Best of Buddies” (a country folk tune that plays over Snoopy and Woodstock’s travels) and “No Dogs Allowed!” (with Thurl Ravenscroft’s iconic bass-baritone voice perfectly capturing Snoopy’s sour mood at seeing those annoying signs everywhere).
The film isn’t totally flawless. The scene with Clara can feel a little jarring compared with the melancholic tone the film is going for, and the ending feels a little too abrupt for my taste. Even so, Snoopy, Come Home is still a worthy entry in the ongoing story of Charlie Brown and company, offering us some valuable insight into the character of one of the most iconic cartoon dogs on this side of Scooby-Doo.
#389: Night on the Galactic Railroad
Release date: July 13, 1985
Distributor: Nippon Herald Films
Production company: Group TAC
Director: Gisaburo Sugii
Producers: Atsumi Tashiro, Masato Hara
Writer: Minoru Betsuyaku (based on the novel by Kenji Miyazawa)
Music: Haruomi Hosono
Long before The Polar Express, this was the definitive animated film depicting a supernatural locomotive taking a child protagonist on a life-changing, dreamlike journey (well, not that long; the original book was published the same year this film came out).
The story centers on a folksy world populated by anthropomorphic cats. One, a schoolboy named Giovanni (Mayumi Tanaka), is having a rough go of it. His father is lost at sea on a fishing trip, and his mother is suffering from an illness that has left her bedridden, meaning that he has to be the breadwinner for the family at the local print shop. His classmates are also relentlessly bullying him, with Campanella (Chika Sakamoto) being the only one to stick up for him. After a confrontation at the Festival of Stars that night, Giovanni goes to a nearby hill to cool down, only to be surprised when a steam engine suddenly zooms down from the stars. Giovanni boards one of the cars and sees Campanella waiting for him. The pair travels through several strange worlds, from the prehistoric-themed “Pliocene Coast” to a world where a hunter captures herons and turns them into candy, and a world where they witness the sinking of the Titanic and meet three young passengers who died that fateful night. But Campanella is hiding a secret related to the true purpose of the train, which may cause his and Giovanni’s friendship to come to a tragic and premature conclusion…
Night on the Galactic Railroad, or “the Solar Express,” as some IMDB users have dubbed it, is best remembered today for its slow-paced and dreamlike tone, which carries a subtle yet overpowering sense of menace throughout without featuring anything outright nightmarish like monsters or blood. The tension builds through several seemingly whimsical set pieces until the devastating twist finally releases it during the climax.
Despite this, one of the film’s central themes is that death is not something to fear, and one must live their lives to the fullest while they still have it and live it as unselfishly as possible. This is best illustrated by one character’s fable for how the constellation Scorpio came to be: a scorpion fleeing a hungry weasel fell into a well and cursed itself for its selfishness, believing it would have done more good feeding the weasel than dying pointlessly at the bottom of the well. It then burst into flames and zoomed up into the sky, where it could help those who are lost navigate with the light of its stars. This is a lesson Giovanni readily takes to heart upon his return to Earth.
The film also shines in its animation (Giovanni’s village is just as imaginatively presented as the various fantastical settings) and its music. The main theme is especially memorable, with its synthesized church bells perfectly setting the tone for the dark meditations on death that the film presents.
The only thing really wrong with the film is that its slow pace, cerebral themes, and almost two-hour runtime could be considered a bit too much for its intended child audience to sit through, especially in comparison to the much more fast-paced offerings from mainstream American studios. Still, for those with the patience to sit through it, Night on the Galactic Railroad is a strange yet wonderful journey that you’re not likely to forget any time soon.
#422: Wicked City
Release date: April 19, 1987
Distributor: Joy Pack Film
Production companies: Japan Home Video, Video Art, Madhouse
Director: Yoshiaki Kawajiri
Producers: Makoto Seya, Kenji Kurata
Writer: Norio Osada (based on the novel Wicked City: Black Guard by Hideyuki Kikuchi)
Music: Osamu Shoji
Fair warning for everyone interested in checking this one out: this is definitely not for everyone! Wicked City is probably best remembered today as part of the triad of violent and darkly erotic anime films featuring sexually aggressive demons that came out in the late 80s, the others being Demon City Shinjuku and Urotsukidoji: Legend of the Overfiend. It’s not quite as explicit as the latter, but it’s still very much not for the faint of heart.
The story follows three main characters: Taki Renzaburo (Yusaku Yara/Gregory Snegoff), a member of the demon-hunting paramilitary group the Black Guard who wields a gun powerful enough to blast him through walls everytime he fires it; Makie (Toshiko Fujita/ Gaye Kruger), a female Black Guard from the demon world who daylights as a fashion model; and Giuseppe Mayart (Ichiro Nagai/Mike Reynolds), a 200-year-old wizard whose licentiousness outstrips his dwarfish stature. The Black Guard duo is tasked with guarding Mayart from Black World radicals who wish to stop him from attending the ratification of a peace treaty between human and demonkind. But their job is made extremely difficult by Mayart constantly sneaking out to the red light district and by the relentless pursuit of the radical demonic overlord Mr. Shadow (Takeshi Aono/Jeff Winkless), whom Makie has a history with…
Unsurprisingly, the sexual themes are the most discussed and controversial aspect of the film. Many critics have struggled with how the film seems to, in the words of Anime from Akira to Princess Mononoke author Susan J. Napier, portray female bodies as simultaneously objects to be “viewed, violated, [and] tortured” and also “awesomely powerful, almost unstoppable.” Nowhere is this more obvious than in how Makie is portrayed. While she spends much of the movie getting brutalized and molested (including by a tentacle monster that forces her to perform oral sex on it), she’s also by far the most active of the heroes. She’s introduced saving Taki from a gang of Black World radicals at the airport, dispatches half the villains herself, and is even the one to land the killing blow on Mr. Shadow during the climactic battle. All of this is further complicated by how she seems to take a literal gang rape in stride, even willingly sleeping with Taki shortly afterward. Granted, demons as a species seem to be sexually aggressive as a rule in this universe, so maybe Makie views it as more of a “fender bender” kind of situation. Still, though, I can’t help but feel that it might be a little bit of an insult to real-life sexual assault victims.
For those willing to put up with the film’s complicated sexual politics, however, there’s a lot to appreciate. The creature designs are imaginatively Freudian, from the spider woman with a sharp-toothed maw where her vulva should be, whom Taki inadvertently beds at the beginning, the soapland prostitute who almost absorbs Mayart by turning her chest into clay, and the goons at the airport who explode into writhing masses of eyes and tentacles during the airport attack. The animation lends itself well to the action, and the dark and moody color palette is well suited to the “Blade Runner meets John Carpenter’s The Thing” kind of tone the film is going for. The characters are enjoyable to watch, even if they aren’t that well-characterized beyond their archetypes. The English voice cast was also surprisingly good for the era in which it came out, especially Snegoff’s gruff but easy-going performance as Taki.
The story, on the other hand, can feel a bit half-baked at times, especially the twist involving Mayart’s character at the end. It feels poorly foreshadowed and doesn’t fully compensate for his annoying behavior in the first two acts.
If the sexual themes I described above make you want to give this film a pass, that’s totally fine. For those willing to give it a chance, however, I argue it has a lot more to offer than tits and tentacle monsters.
#597: Mulan
Release date: June 5, 1998
Distributor: Buena Vista Pictures Distribution
Production company: Walt Disney Feature Animation
Directors: Barry Cook, Tony Bancroft
Producer: Pam Coats
Writers: Robert D. San Souci (story); Rita Hsiao, Chris Sanders, Philip LaZebnik, Raymond Singer, Eugenia Bostwick-Singer (based on the Chinese folk song “Ballad of Mulan” by Guo Maoqian)
Music: Jerry Goldsmith (score); Matthew Wilder, David Zippel (songs)
This Walt Disney classic, coming at the tail end of the company’s 90s Renaissance, adds a dose of action not typically seen in a Disney Princess film. It also offers a bold exploration of feminism and wartime camaraderie, sometimes going to dark places that no Disney film would ever dream of today.
We follow Fa Mulan (Ming-Na Wen), a headstrong and adventurous young woman who struggles to fit into the patriarchal society of Imperial China. Things get worse for her when her aging and infirm father, Fa Zhou (Soon-Tek Oh), as the only male of the family, is conscripted into the army to fight back against an invading army of Huns and their ruthless leader, Shan Yu (Miguel Ferrer). Fearing for Zhou’s safety, Mulan disguises herself as a man named Fa Ping, steals her father’s armor and sword, and joins the army in his place. Meanwhile, Mushu (Eddie Murphy), a small red dragon and disgraced former guardian of the Fa family, decides to follow Mulan, hoping to regain his lost honor by helping her become a war hero. But she’ll have to train hard under Captain Li Shang (BD Wong) and survive the vicious onslaught of the Hun army, all while keeping her true gender a secret for fear of the deadly consequences should the authorities find out.
Like with many of Disney’s Renaissance-era masterpieces, it’s hard to know where to start talking about everything this film does right. Perhaps the animation itself might be a good place to start. It’s a Disney film, so obviously the animation itself is immaculate, but it also bears obvious influence from classical Chinese art to give it a distinct look from the company’s previous fairy tale outings. The scene with the Hun army sweeping down the snowy mountain slopes deserves special mention, which required innovations in computer technology equivalent to that needed to create the wildebeest stampede in The Lion King four years previously, and is still remembered as one of the most iconic scenes in animation history.
The story is also memorable for the many colorful characters it presents us with. There’s the trio of friends Mulan makes in the army: the short-tempered Yao (Harvey Firestein), the sanguine Ling (Gedde Watanabe), and the calm and spiritual Chien-Po (Jerry Tondo). Watching the trio go from bullying Mulan when she first enlists to becoming her staunchest allies, even after her secret is revealed, is heartwarming, and their plan to save the Emperor from Shan Yu at the end is hilarious and awesome. The legendary James Hong voices Chi Fu, the openly misogynistic consul to the Emperor and advisor to Li Shang, who proves to be a much more direct threat to Mulan than Shan Yu throughout much of the runtime. Mulan herself proves a capable soldier by training hard for her success and using her brains just as much as her brawn to foil Shan Yu and his horde.
Speaking of whom, the Huns prove to have much more depth than you might expect from barbarian stereotypes. They manage to glean valuable information about a potential military target off a little girl’s doll, Sherlock Holmes-style, showing that they have brains to go with their brawn, which makes them scarier in a way, especially when Shan Yu says that “the little girl will be missing her doll…we should return it to her” with a wicked smile. Shan Yu certainly leaves a strong impression for someone who doesn’t have much screentime. And, of course, Eddie Murphy as Mushu inevitably steals the show in the same way Robin Williams did as the Genie in Aladdin, getting most of the funniest lines. Granted, it can be a bit jarring hearing Brooklyn natives Murphy and Firestein playing Ancient Chinese characters (indeed, Firestein almost turned down his role for fear of depriving a more deserving East Asian actor, only to change his mind when he was convinced Disney had done its due diligence in getting as many East Asians as they could). Still, they are both incredibly effective in their respective roles.
The soundtrack also deserves mention, as it has produced several songs as iconic as any of the best of the Disney canon. Li Shang’s big number, “I’ll Make a Man Out of You,” is remembered for its memetic opening line, “Let’s get down to business to defeat the Huns,” while Mulan’s “Reflection” verbalizes her inner conflict of wanting to be herself but not wanting to dishonor her family by doing so. And of course, we can’t forget about the lighthearted ribbing of male chauvinism in “A Girl Worth Fighting For,” as well as its abrupt gut punch of an ending when Li Shang’s battalion stumbles across the burning remains of a village Shan Yu destroyed, and the slaughtered remains of the army led by Li Shang’s father, General Li (James Shigeta). It’s easily one of the darkest sequences in a Disney film this side of The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
I could go on and on praising this film, but I think I’ll stop here. It’s not a flawless film. For instance, its reverent treatment of the Emperor (Pat Morita) falls somewhat flat, considering he’s the figurehead of the sexist society that caused Mulan such grief. Also, the designs of some of the more villainous characters are a little too close to old racial stereotypes for comfort, especially Chi Fu with his thin mustache and buck tooth. Still, I would argue that Mulan has more than earned its spot as one of the best films Walt Disney has to offer.
#657: Juxtapozed With U
Release date: 2001
Distributor: Super Furry Animals
Director: Dawn of the New Assembly/H5
“Juxtapozed With U” is the first single from Rings Around the World, the fifth studio album by the artsy Welsh art rock group Super Furry Animals. Rings was highly praised by critics of the time for its eclectic stylings (veering from pop to prog to techno and punk and even death metal) and its lyrical themes dealing with social issues like religious fundamentalism, pollution, and the problems with Hollywood stardom and modern telecommunications.
“Juxtapozed…” is styled like a yacht rock track with significant influences from the Philadelphia soul scene. It was initially conceived as a duet between lead singer Gruff Rhys and a soul singer, but after being turned down by Brian Harvey, Bobby Brown, and Luther Vandross, Rhys opted to sing the guest part himself through a vocoder, an experience he later described as “schizophrenic.” The lyrics are a mix of musings on the folding of the band’s previous record label Creation Records (indeed, Rings was SFA’s major label debut via Epic Records) and protest lyrics against wealth inequality and the social injustice it causes (“Overpriced unreal estate, surreal estate/The highest price they’ve hit to date/Creating new divides and tension”).
Two music videos were created for “Juxtapozed…” The first, directed by Fukme 99 and included on the DVD version of Rings, features a group of people dressed in cardboard costumes getting into shenanigans in the West London neighborhood of Hammersmith. The actual promotional video for the song, on the other hand, is a stylistic CG animation from the French company H5 (who have also done music videos for Goldfrapp, Massive Attack, Royksopp, and Air), which ties directly into the lyrics of the song.
The video takes place in a computer-generated render of New York City, and follows an affluent couple, depicted as thermal images, as they go out for a night on the town. They drive across the Brooklyn Bridge, visit an exhibit at the Guggenheim Art Museum, and attend a pool party on the roof of a skyscraper. However, disaster strikes when the skyscraper suddenly catches fire. A helicopter swoops in to rescue the partygoers, but it arrives too late. The skyscraper explodes, taking the couple and the helicopter with it.
The video is loaded with symbolic meanings (sometimes literally, as with the math and currency symbols dotting the walls of the buildings the couple visits). All the people being rendered as thermal images could be a pun on how the rich view other people only in terms of how “hot” they are; that is, they value people only for their physical attributes or how useful they are for their own selfish ends rather than trying to seek a deeper connection. This could be backed up by lyrics like “You’ve got to tolerate all those people that you hate/I don’t love you, but I won’t hold that against you.”
The burning skyscraper could be interpreted as the effects of social inequality finally coming back around to bite the capitalist class in the ass, whether through the effects of climate change or a particularly catastrophic economic downturn finally bursting their insulated bubble or through a working class uprising. After all, the haves can only tell the have-nots that they “want to get juxtaposed with you” for so long before the have-nots finally get frustrated with their condescension.
It’s a bit depressing that we’re still dealing with the themes presented by both the song and video, even almost a quarter of a century after they were released. Still, as far as metaphors for capitalism go, it’s a solid one.
#742: Paprika
Release date: September 2, 2006
Distributor: Sony Pictures Entertainment Japan
Production company: Madhouse
Director: Satoshi Kon
Producers: Jungo Maruta, Masao Takiyama
Writers: Seishi Minakami, Satoshi Kon (based on the novel by Yasutaka Tsutsui)
Music: Susumu Hirasawa
The last film completed by Satoshi Kon before his untimely death in 2010 is best remembered for being the film that did Inception before it was cool. Fair warning to anyone who hasn’t watched it, though: it might make Christopher Nolan’s opus look positively dull in comparison.
The story takes place in a near-future version of Japan, where a device known as the DC Mini allows people to see each other’s dreams and record them. When prototypes of the device are stolen and the dream of an insane megalomaniac (which takes the form of a mad parade of random objects) starts being wielded by the thief as a psychic weapon of mass destruction, a team at the Institute of Psychiatric Research, including psychiatrist Atsuko Chiba and her dream avatar Paprika (Megumi Hayashibara), the DC Mini’s childish and obese inventor Kosaku Tokita (Toru Fuyura), and chief of staff Torataro Shima (Katsunosuke Hori) scrambles to solve the mystery before their paraplegic chairman Seijiro Inui (Toru Emori) shuts the program down entirely. Also involved in the hunt is one of Chiba/Paprika’s patients, Detective Toshimi Konakawa (Akio Otsuka), who is plagued by a dream involving a former colleague and the victim in a homicide case he’s working on. They must move quickly, or the dreamscape might become so unstable that dreams and reality could merge…
Like most of Satoshi Kon’s work, this film is mindbendingly psychological, so don’t go into it expecting a simple Disneyesque romp. They don’t call Kon “the David Lynch of anime” for nothing (I feel that “the Charlie Kaufman of anime” is a more apt description, but you get my point).
The animation is likely the thing that people remember most about the film. It’s probably the most visually creative work Kon ever put out, especially with all the surreal images packed into the dream sequences. The mad parade that drives the plot is one of those 2D animated sequences that makes you go, “How the hell did they draw all that?!” Describing it is a bit of a fool’s errand; it really needs to be seen to be believed. The rest of the dream sequences aren’t far behind, including the opening scene where Konakawa is attacked by a circus going audience who all have his face, the way Paprika transforms herself into various fantasical creatures (mermaids, fairy princesses, sphinxes, etc.) when it suits her purposes, and the insane climax. It can at times feel like the visuals overwhelm the story at points, but there’s no denying the overwhelming creativity of it all.
This isn’t to say that every scene is balls-to-the-wall insanity. The subtly clever way the presence of the parade is first revealed to the main characters is one of my favorite scenes. Our heroes are in a meeting with Chairman Inui, discussing the stolen DC Minis, and Dr. Shima goes on a rant that slowly grows more and more deranged as he describes what he’s seeing until he jumps out the window and almost kills himself. He turns out to be the first victim of the dream terrorist plot.
The story definitely isn’t perfect: Dr. Chiba secretly having feelings for Tokita feels poorly foreshadowed. Still, the animation more than makes up for it, as does the music (especially the J-pop bop that plays over the opening credits) and the voice acting (especially Hayashibara, who expertly shifts between the coldly professional Dr. Chiba and the very literal manic pixie dream girl Paprika).
Paprika is a one-of-a-kind experience you won’t likely forget anytime soon. Like I said at the beginning, though, you may find yourself agreeing with this one-off joke from Gravity Falls by the end: “Inceptus Nolanus Overratus!”
#777: Waltz With Bashir
Release date: May 13, 2008
Distributor: Le Pacte, Pandora Film, Sony Pictures Classics, Future Film, Frenetic Films, Cineart, Madman Entertainment
Production companies: Bridgit Folman Film Gang, Les Films d’Ici, Razor Film Produktion
Director/co-producer/writer: Ari Folman
Co-producers: Serge Lalou, Gerhard Miexner, Yael Nahlieli, Roman Paul, Richard O’Connell
Music: Max Richter
This is a highly complicated film to talk about, especially in light of certain…current events. Nevertheless, it is an essential film in terms of establishing how animation can be utilized to tell a serious and mature story.
We follow real-life filmmaker and IDF veteran Ari Folman as he struggles to regain his repressed memories surrounding his involvement in the 1982 Lebanon War, specifically regarding where he was during one of the darkest events in the history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict: the Sabra and Shatila massacre. After discussing this with his old army buddy, Boaz Rein-Buskila (who reveals a recurring nightmare he’s been having involving the Palestinian dogs he shot during the war), Folman experiences a vision of himself and two others emerging naked from the seas around Beirut, illuminated by falling stars. Recognizing that this vision is connected to Sabra and Shatila, he embarks on a documentary journey, interviewing fellow veterans, psychologists, and journalists to regain his lost memories and decode the meaning behind his strange vision.
I should make it clear before we go any further that I’m approaching this film from a stridently anti-Zionist perspective. A lot of Israel’s claims that it’s only defending itself from Muslim terrorists ring hollow when you look at all the violent confrontations it’s had with its Palestinian neighbors since the 1947-48 Nakba and realize that Palestinian casualties vastly outnumber Israeli casualties across the board. This has proven especially true in the current Gaza war when you compare the less than 2,000 Israeli fatalities with the over 65,000 Palestinian fatalities. The 1982 Lebanon war this film talks about is no different, with the 654 Israeli deaths being far outstripped by the 19,085 Arab deaths (and that’s not including the civilian deaths in Sabra and Shatila, with estimates ranging from 800 to 3500).
Unsurprisingly, then, Waltz With Bashir has proven controversial among Arabic audiences, with the Lebenese government even banning the film entirely (although that hasn’t stopped civilians from circulating bootleg copies). Several critics have labeled Folman’s story with the dreaded “shooting and crying” label, which describes a work where a soldier expresses remorse for his actions but doesn’t do anything concrete to stop such atrocities from happening again. I don’t have the time nor the expertise to fully dissect the politics and history behind the film, though, so I’d reccomend reading the essay “Shooting Film and Crying,” written by Ursula Lindsey for the Middle East Research and Information Project, if you want a deep dive into that angle of the film’s reputation.
For all that this white New Yorker’s opinion matters, though, I think Waltz With Bashir is a necessary and well-made film once you look past all the neocolonialist baggage. The animation, done in Adobe Flash (not rotoscope, as is often reported), is done in a gritty comic-book style that preserves the horrific realism of the war even in its cartoonish form. Max Richter’s dark and brooding synth-driven score also helps convey the complex emotions Folman and co. are going through as they come to terms with what they were complicit in. The ending of the film also chooses to cut to real-life footage of the aftermath of the massacre, with the discolored corpses of the dead reminding us that this was no mere cartoon: it really happened.
Suffice it to say, this is not a feel-good movie. Indeed, I first watched it very late in the evening and immediately felt the need to watch a few episodes of SpongeBob SquarePants just so that it wouldn’t be the last thing I saw before I went to bed. Maybe those of you with Arabic heritage will be less forgiving of its shortcomings than I am, and that’s totally fine. Still, like I said, of all the ways to demonstrate that animation is not merely a tool for entertaining children, there are worse ways to do it.
#999: The Amazing Digital Circus
Release date: October 13, 2023-present
Distributor: YouTube, Netflix
Production company: Glitch Productions
Creator/writer: Gooseworx
Producers: Kevin and Luke Lerdwichagul, Tom Dolan
Music: Evan Alderate, Gooseworx
This hilariously horrifying YouTube original series has been widely acclaimed as one of the best entries in the early 2020s indie animation renaissance. Its colorful preschool cartoon aesthetic contrasts beautifully with its “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream”-inspired storyline.
Our central character is Pomni (Lizzie Freeman), a young woman with an avatar dressed as a court jester. She becomes a nervous wreck when she discovers that she’s trapped in the eponymous virtual reality game, where the player can do anything except two things: use profanity or, worse, leave. Her only consolation is that she has five other trapped players for company: the optimistic rag doll Ragatha (Amanda Hufford), the mischievous and selfish purple humanoid rabbit Jax (Michael Kovach), the emotionally fragile ribbon-bodied comedy/tragedy mask wearing Gangle (Marissa Lenti), the insane white king chess piece Kinger (Sean Chiplock), and the grouchy and apathetic mix-and-match bodied Zooble (Ashley Nichols). This dysfunctional team must work together to make it through the various adventures that the circus’s ringmaster, a wacky novelty teeth-headed AI named Caine (Alex Rochon), sends them on, while trying to keep enough of their sanity to avoid “abstracting” into horrific digital monstrosities.
This series really is a triumph in every sense of the word. The animation is a love letter to early 90s GC animation that gives it a polished contemporary sheen. The character designs are some of the most original and inventive I’ve seen in years, especially Zooble with her abstract body constructed of removable parts that change every episode, and Caine. The way his head is designed, consisting of an oversized pair of dentures with his eyeballs floating inside, means that the animators have to get creative in conveying his facial expressions while simultaneously allowing him to speak, which they pull off beautifully.
Caine is also interesting in that he is clearly Gooseworx’s answer to AM from “I Have No Mouth…” while also being his opposite in every way. Whereas AM is a vengeful tyrant who treats his human prisoners with blistering contempt, Caine is a jovial and hammy ringmaster who genuinely believes that the adventures he’s sending his captives on are helping stave off the boredom of being trapped in the Digital Circus, while, in reality, they’re mostly only further traumatizing them, as he doesn’t have the slightest comprehension of their psychological needs.
All of the characters are given equal complexity (except Jax, who’s mostly a one-note jackass, albeit in an entertaining way). Kinger has been there the longest and has all but lost his mind due to all the horrors he’s witnessed; Gangle is a depressive mood swinger who is barely holding it together; Ragatha is trying really hard to be a people pleaser, even to people like Jax who really don’t deserve it; and Zooble is struggling with their gender identity due to the androgynous and mix-and-match nature of their avatar. Pomni has also undergone a beautifully executed character arc, even in the four episodes that have been released so far, going from not caring about the others and only wanting to escape to gradually growing more empathetic to the other players and even some NPCs like Gummigoo, even closing down the restaurant in Gangle’s place in “Fast Food Masquerade” when she notices that the latter seems to be close to a breakdown.
Of course, the series as a whole is brimming with creativity, from the various worlds the players visit (so far including the Candyland meets Max Max world of “Candy Carrier Chaos!,” the gothic horror inspired “Mystery of Middenhall Manor,” and the McDonald’s inspired “Fast Food Masquerade”) to the wonderfully orchestrated music to the rapid-fire comedy which switches from existential to slapstick and back again in the same scene. Undoubtedly, though, it’s the mystery of what exactly the Digital Circus is and what’s keeping the players from escaping it that will likely keep you coming back for more…and drive you crazy with how much slower the episodes are to come out, as is typical with indie animation.
There are only four episodes out as of the time I’m writing this. Still, they’ve already proven that The Amazing Digital Circus will likely be one of the all-time greats that animation buffs will discuss for generations to come.
So, what do you all think? I’d call this a pretty good start!
I can’t say when this series’s next entry will be. I know you’re all probably tired of hearing this by now, but I’ve still got my Jurassic Park retrospective to finish (like I said earlier, I had started work on the Dominion review again before my autistic brain forced me to write this article instead). I’m also gunning for the “Cryptids of North America” Pennsylvania episode as well.
As for the “Favorite Animated TV Series of 2024” list, I’ve decided to do it all in one this time around, if only to prevent myself from getting overwhelmed with all the work I need to do. As of this writing, I’m almost done with the September entries, and I’ll probably be finished watching everything I wanted to either next month or early July. I’ll likely also do the 2024 animated films list right after, regardless of whether or not The Glassblower is out in the States by then.
Before all that, though, I’ll be presenting you with a special surprise for my birthday: a project inspired by a college poetry writing project that might give you more insight into how I think about the world. Until then, you all stay wacky, my beautiful animaniacs!
