Review: Kabaneri of the Iron Fortress

Published 2019-06-14 natively

(KnK)


The first and most important thing to understand about KnK is that it can be insanely pretty, and insanely euphonic. Everything else is secondary. It's not art, but it is aesthetic; the distinction between those being only in presentation. KnK is more to be enjoyed, akin to many lower-brow and lower-budget anime, than extensively understood. The more time one struggles to connect all the relations and implications, to hold it to a higher narrative standard, the more likely one is to miss the actual merit, in the immaculate staging shots, the quixotic soundtrack, and the occasional euphoria of a well-produced combat sequence. Take that as a moral before you start watching, and remember it as those moments become more intermittent. Most pitches begin with a blurb about the narrative, before we ever choose to watch something, but here that moral is far more important than any proviso about the plot or characters.

Episode one is a tour du force, and needs little analysis; that can wait until later. There is no slack, no effete easing-in; the plot begins immediately, though it will be difficult to make full sense of its direction until its later sections. Within the first two minutes, we are given a very concise and spirited introduction to the tension defining the narrative, our primary protagonist, and his relation to the defining theme (fear) of the entire series. Three minutes rounds it out, and marks the first lapse in tension. In that space, there's some world-building and the presentation of the rest of the characters that will feature in the first phase; foremost however is developing the protagonist, his backing and temperment.
Twelve minutes later, the action is back on again, and the stress and pressure which, in the convenient narrative crucible, seperates out the persistent characters from the bit ones, while ramping up the primary protagonist in a brilliantly-executed crisis and artfully revealing the second, converging all of the build-up hereto in a single orchestra drop. The second protagonist, completing the duo which defines the series' dynamic, has a more simple but still robust appeal, falling neatly into the warrior-girl tropes. She's also twelve by the way, and don't you forget it you dirty fucking lolicon. At exactly such a high-point, it cuts to intro sequence in classic anime fashion; this is also quality, and certainly enjoyable as a teaser for the series to follow while still riding high on its delivery thusfar.
Then go to episode two and watch it again, but slightly different. Because anime. Then it proceeds to finish the development it undertook in the previous section and finish culling its characters. Which mostly means switching warrior-girl from a delightfully-tasteful kimono getup into some kind of leather-armor-headband-toeshoes-skirt one that exposes her thighs and solid B-cup; you dirty fucking lolicon. It's also a great excuse for another high-quality combat sequence, and an introduction to the unconventional but high-verve audio that entails throughout the anime. It's all kawaii. After a few more sequences, and a bit of appreciable ubermensch-type action, the tone and content is well-established for the remainder of the series. Along with the outro sequence, which is also nice.

Such should suffice for a recommendation thereof; once one has had the chance to sample it, the following section will be more salient. Or, if one remains unconvinced, they may read through for an review of SnT as a whole.

The movie, which only the third (Battle of Unato) seems to be an actual movie instead of a repackaging of the series, is confusingly further separated into three parts (each of which is thirty minutes long, and includes intro and out to sequences from the series, but is a movie somehow), and has a very rough presentation trying to tie back in while introducing new material. The problems with continuity and relevance from the series' vignettes, along with its other shortcomings, seem to be the same, but as are its virtues of lovingly-made animation sequences. The audio and most of the characters are completely re-used, sadly, robbing the movie of the series' explosive start it had in introducing each character and the world-building. Instead of that tour-du-force, we get a passable voice-over in the movie's introductions, along with some vignettes that will be either poignant or hackneyed depending on your buy-in to the principal duo.The story aspects are as secondary here as in the series, but are worth a small amount of space. Just kidding; the story is pretty superfluous. The gun/swordplay, however, is just as enjoyable as the series without having to introduce anything new (barring a bit rocket launcher and scoped rifle, because steampunk's evidently too limiting), and the smoothness of each motion flowing into the next is viscerally satisfying. They are, it must be said, the primary appeal here as in the episodes. But as little as the story might hold on its own merits, in its proper (subservient) place here, it is worth mentioning. At least some of humanity it seems is now on the aggressive, creating both a new context and a refreshing change of pace from the series' routine of show-up-at-a-station, fuck-everything-up, move-to-the-next-station. The twist, however, is very familiar, hits many of the same notes, and frankly nearly completely predictable to someone paying enough attention; a major hallmark of lazy writing is that everything introduced has a purpose for the main plot, which extends to characters.
Overall, the movie does little to surprise from the expectations left after watching through the series. The superlative initial momentum having drawn back into a fairly standard if still highly-enjoyable anime narrative, one is simply pleasantly surprised when little bits of inspiration show up.

A train metaphor is irresistible. Highly promising with early acceleration, and managing to keep a consistent but unremarkable pace mostly sustained by inertia rather than further driving events. Still enjoyable, on the polished combat sequences alone, but without the kind of dynamic energy that was so promising initially, and that some other anime have managed slightly better. A slight acceleration is desirable, as some payoff should come with further development of characters and events, revealing their complexities and interaction, although many anime stumble in maintaining such build-up, especially for productions lasting longer than one or two seasons. A recently-watched example, Redline is extremely good at keeping up its energy, and keeping the periods between 'punch' moments tight, by sheer ridiculous excess of animation, with manifold action in every frame. Very few productions can manage that level, in either money or time, and most rely on still frames or backgrounds to save on production, or even coast on the increasingly-notorious CGI sequences. Another comparison is obligatory, to SnK, which shared the same studio and abounds in similarities, down to the stellar opening sequence; the difference is SnK manages to continue to build momentum throughout the entire first season, developing characters and wiping them out with equal sincerity and vigor, such that E.Y's struggle with exceptionalism and the rearguard defense of humanity is a product of gradual improvement and crises. KnK has only a few inflection points, and while the main duo is certainly interesting and compelling, their development is either nonexistent or forced through most of the episodes, and their overall range of ability only alters at a few arbitrary points. There is no suffering, no persistent struggle with the same forces presented in the captivating first episode, or even the appearance of robust principles; just the usual shout-and-fight routine which fails to convey any serious stakes. Although it's almost certainly weak writing, it seems that with high-budget (serialized) action-drama anime, someone important has to die every episode or two to give the story any real heft. The Fate series accomplishes this through persistent, orchestrated conflict sequences which usually kill at least one of a set cast of characters. SnK does it by obliterating them with all the suddenness and violence of reality. But there is something deeply flawed about your narrative if your world is one in which humanity is on the back foot against an overwhelming enemy, outnumbered and overpowered, and the viewer doesn't have a constant sense of tension. One of the finest parts of SnK is its attention to technology and infrastructure, the specific weapons and techniques that were developed to combat the menace; this is a persistently-relevant aspect. In KnK, we see the protagonist inventing a novel weapon capable of effectively killing the menace, which makes up the entire initial plot, and who is also able to achieve on the back of previous speculation a unique hybridization; two developments which could in theory turn the tide of the entire struggle. Then suddenly everyone has magical bullets which are slightly better but don't change the role of the people using them, which on the back of a few offhand remarks (such non-sequitur moments stand out throughout the narrative, as if the writers are aware of their failures and trying to plaster over the plotholes as they go) invisibly becomes basically everyone; our protagonist, meanwhile, never invents anything again, or alludes to the extensive design expertise or knowledge he had at the start. A character who is presented with having an overriding motivation to invent the means to fight back, upon inventing it immediately loses all interest. Oh, and he also made magical slightly-better swords somehow too, so the samurai character can have an excuse to still do his chop-chop routine. Oh, and by the midpoint of the series it's revealed all of these were completely trivial inventions already achieved and systematically implemented by another major character for their faction, down to the exact function and pattern on the blades. The fact that two parties seem to have independently developed the technologies capable of revolutionizing the struggle currently defining humanity, and neither one seems particularly concerned about publicizing them, is never directly acknowledged. SnK also managed to have an entire run without introducing a primary antagonist; it's a sadly rare feat in anime for a character to persistently struggle with an abstract and seemingly-immaterial force, instead of a single central figure. KnK absolutely does not; the primary antagonist is introduced and almost immediately positioned as the primary antagonist, and occupies that role and compels most of the subsequent plot developments, although their arrival is, according to the narrative, absolutely tangential to the plot-line hitherto. Understandable? Yes. Painfully hamfisted in retrospect? Absolutely.
In short, it feels like the first episode was outstanding, excellent, but that the writing and production had absolutely no idea what to do with the ideas and themes it introduced therein, so defaulted to a safe generic anime plotline and rode it all the way to its conclusion. It was very enjoyable overall, although failing to ever approach the magical, quixotic quality of the first episode, and the setting makes its cliches tolerable, along with some quirks that make it far more lovable than it should be on its merits. Trains are neat, the surrounding world-building is neat if sparse, the audio as aforementioned is great, and if you manage to find some enjoyable aspects after the first episode's high wears off, it's worth seeing through to the finish.


HH.

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