Its director compares Noein to Stand By Me, which initially seems absurd. Watch the below video—the opening two minutes and thirty seconds of the first episode—and you’ll see why. High above a desert, men fly and do battle with an enormous, invading creature that’s just burst through the atmosphere.

I love this action sequence because it seems so artfully designed. The creature, with its clasped hands and many faces, looks like a kind of eastern statue. Its human opponents fire magic from their hands by squeezing it painfully through their bulging wrists. The animation throughout the show makes use of occasional 3D, but at one point in this opening fight a character is so pained he devolves screaming into his pencil sketch form.

By the end of the first episode, that Stand By Me comparison makes more sense. The show follows Haruka and her group of friends, including two boys—the anxious Yu, with whom she considers running away from home, and the laid-back Isami—and two girls—the tomboyish Ai and the superstitious Miho. They each come from slightly broken homes, and the first episode involves their adventure to a nearby graveyard to search for ghosts.

Where it diverges from Stand By Me is, obviously, in the heavy fantasy elements. At the graveyard, the group encounter those flying men from the introduction. It takes around six or seven episodes before anything even begins making sense, but the explanations eventually involve alternate dimensions, the Many-Worlds and Copehnagen interpretations of quantum mechanics, and Haruka’s significance as something called the Dragon Torque.

For all the originality in its concept design, Noein is by far the most traditional of all the animé I’ve watched thus far. But it falls within a group of stories—those that juxtapose fantasy and mundane reality—that I find irresistible. The most fun of these are the Kids With Special Powers Attend Special School For Kids With Special Powers, which Noein is not, but it’s close enough to get its hooks into me anyway.

We’re bringing our own further juxtaposition, Lisa and I, by alternating episodes of this and Death Note. For an idea of the contrast: Noein puts the fantasy aside for an episode called “Friendship,” about a lost phone charm, which we watched immediately before an episode of Death Note in which Light spent its entire length attempting to murder a female widow in cold blood.

Next post will be about games, I swear.

The human whose name is written in this note shall die.

This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person’s face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.

After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.

These simple but specific rules lay the foundation for the most clever television show I’ve watched in a long time.

After a couple of testing flirtations makes it clear the book is real, Light resolves to use it to kill every criminal in the world and to eventually create a world free from evil. After days of writing names in the book, he is visited by the shinigami—a death god—responsible for dropping the book to Earth. Expecting punishment, Light is instead told that there are no immediate consequences. The shinigami is just bored.

The show then becomes about the rivalry between Light and L, an anonymous and eccentric detective attempting to catch the person responsible for hundreds of seemingly impossible murders.

The show plays like a twisted combination of Dexter and Jonathan Creek. The Dexter comparison is obvious: the protagonist in each is a sociopathic killer with a vigilante’s moral code, and both have a cop for a father. But where Dexter is strict about only killing the criminals, Light is willing to murder anyone who stands in his way, even if they’re police officers or FBI agents.

The more important difference is that where Dexter is often saved from compromising circumstances through fortunate happenstance, Death Note instead forces its character’s to think their way out. This is what was always so excellent about those early seasons of Jonathan Creek. That and the character living in a windmill.

Both Light and L are willing to go to extremes to win, and the show spends a lot of time dealing with the inner lives of each as they attempt to second-guess and outwit one another. It becomes impossible to root for Light pretty quickly—where Dexter’s outward persona is charming and affable, Light is characterised by teenaged petulance and a frightful God complex. But it is both thrilling and excruciating to watch him squirm out of the predicaments in which he finds himself, each situation eventually resolved with logic and a careful interpretation of those aforementioned rules. It’s the I, Robot of supernatural murder fantasies.

I’ve been watching a lot of animé recently, introduced to most of it by the generous Richard Cobbett. It is refreshing, after years of Western television and film, to discover an entirely new culture with its own tropes, traditions and styles. By which I mean that animé is strange. Death Note is perhaps the least odd of what I’ve been watching, but it’s amongst the best. Despite the comically dramatic direction of entirely mundane tasks. ]]>
In Death Note—a Japanese animé series originally aired between 2006 and 2007—a young schoolboy named Light Yagami finds a magic notebook lying on the ground. Inside are detailed instructions as to how to use the titular book.

The human whose name is written in this note shall die.

This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person’s face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.

After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.

These simple but specific rules lay the foundation for the most clever television show I’ve watched in a long time.

After a couple of testing flirtations makes it clear the book is real, Light resolves to use it to kill every criminal in the world and to eventually create a world free from evil. After days of writing names in the book, he is visited by the shinigami—a death god—responsible for dropping the book to Earth. Expecting punishment, Light is instead told that there are no immediate consequences. The shinigami is just bored.

The show then becomes about the rivalry between Light and L, an anonymous and eccentric detective attempting to catch the person responsible for hundreds of seemingly impossible murders.

The show plays like a twisted combination of Dexter and Jonathan Creek. The Dexter comparison is obvious: the protagonist in each is a sociopathic killer with a vigilante’s moral code, and both have a cop for a father. But where Dexter is strict about only killing the criminals, Light is willing to murder anyone who stands in his way, even if they’re police officers or FBI agents.

The more important difference is that where Dexter is often saved from compromising circumstances through fortunate happenstance, Death Note instead forces its character’s to think their way out. This is what was always so excellent about those early seasons of Jonathan Creek. That and the character living in a windmill.

Both Light and L are willing to go to extremes to win, and the show spends a lot of time dealing with the inner lives of each as they attempt to second-guess and outwit one another. It becomes impossible to root for Light pretty quickly—where Dexter’s outward persona is charming and affable, Light is characterised by teenaged petulance and a frightful God complex. But it is both thrilling and excruciating to watch him squirm out of the predicaments in which he finds himself, each situation eventually resolved with logic and a careful interpretation of those aforementioned rules. It’s the I, Robot of supernatural murder fantasies.

I’ve been watching a lot of animé recently, introduced to most of it by the generous Richard Cobbett. It is refreshing, after years of Western television and film, to discover an entirely new culture with its own tropes, traditions and styles. By which I mean that animé is strange. Death Note is perhaps the least odd of what I’ve been watching, but it’s amongst the best. Despite the comically dramatic direction of entirely mundane tasks. ]]> http://www.zeitgasm.com/?feed=rss2&p=656 0 http://www.zeitgasm.com/?p=622 http://www.zeitgasm.com/?p=622#comments Fri, 28 Aug 2009 21:36:31 +0000 Graham http://www.zeitgasm.com/?p=622 Depicting a character writing in a film or television show is difficult because it’s a visually dull activity. This is my favourite attempt at making it exciting, from the first episode of a very odd anime series called Death Note. It’s also exactly what it’s like when I write for PC Gamer.

For contrast, here’s my least favourite depiction of writing, this time from Californication. There’s a lot to like about the series, but a lot to hate. Here, the abysmally named Hank Moody goes to an Apple store to slam out the first post in his new blog series, and to laugh at his own lame jokes.

Look at him walk away at the end there. He just dropped some solid gold truth up in this place. You all be schooled.

Update: It just occured to me that people looking at the RSS feed don’t get the strap line. Hey! RSS people! Not only do both shows have a lobster costume, but the same lobster costume. In episodes filmed, I’d guess, over five years apart. This makes the whole television production process seem both more tangible and endearing.

Homer pointing at the camera, calling everyone behind it suckers. But! He’s pointing at us, too! Dr. Hibbert does the same gag in 6×25 – Who Shot Mr. Burns?

Al Brooks does the voice of the villain, which invites unfavourable comparisons to any of the six characters he’s voiced for the show. Mainly, Hank Scorpio, from one of The Simpsons best episodes, 8×02 – You Only Move Twice.

Grandpa is hit with a beam of light in church and experiences holy palpatations, just like Jake Blues in The Blues Brothers. Oh, and half the town experienced the same thing in 12×19 – I’m Goin’ To Praiseland.

Homer being crushed by a bulldozer? I recognise that from 6×05 – Sideshow Bob Roberts.

As noted above, the film opens with scenes from Itchy and Scratchy: The Movie. We’ve seen scenes from the film before in an episode obtusely titled, 4×06 – Itchy and Scratchy: The Movie.

Homer falls in love with a pig. This is fun. Kind of like that time he fell in love with a lobster in 10×07 – Lisa Gets An A.

When Green Day die, the organist plays a rock song (American Idiot, fittingly) at their funeral. The same organist was tricked into playing In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida by Iron Butterfly in 7×04 – Bart Sells His Soul.

This in itself is a reference to something else – Curly from the Three Stooges, I think – but it has been done before. Grandpa, in church, drops to the floor and begins running round in circles while on his side. He yells “whoop” or “whoot” while he does so. Homer does the same thing in 4×17 – Last Exit to Springfield.

There’s an extended nude montage where objects craftily cover Bart’s genitals. This is a joke that’s been done a million times before by other people, but it also featured in an extended sequence with Marge and Homer in 9×25 – Natural Born Kissers.

Someone mentions Homer’s thinking ability and we’re given an internal glimpse of his head, which contains a monkey of some description. In the movie it’s a toy monkey playing cymbals. In 6×18 – A Star Is Burns, it’s real monkeys. (We see them twice in this episode).

The movie is about pollution in Springfield Lake causing animals to mutate and spurt a freakishly large number of eyes. This was also the catalyst for the story in 2×04 – Two Cars in Every Garage and Three Eyes on Every Fish.

In a gas station, similar-but-different doppelgängers of the Simpsons are mistaken for the family themselves. This is similar to Guy Incognito being mistaken for Homer in 6×11 – Fear of Flying.

Homer meets an Indian woman and departs on a spirit quest. His body goes through various transformative experiences, just like it does during his spiritual journey (also about learning to appreciate Marge) in 8×09 – The Mysterious Voyage of Our Homer.

At the end of the film, Maggie saves Homer from being shot by dropping a rock on the villain’s head. In 13×21 – Papa’s Got A Brand New Badge, Maggie saves Homer from being shot by shooting the villains first.

You can argue that these are knowingly self-referencial, but that doesn’t really make it better.

Having said that, this is a good one near the end of the film. In 2×08 – Bart the Daredevil, Bart plans to jump over Springfield Gorge on his skateboard. Homer accidentally does it instead, and fails. But the ambulance that takes him away afterwards immediately crashes into a tree, and Homer falls down the gorge again. The ambulance is visible in this shot of the movie, still smashed against the tree:

Of course, there are those moments that are just depressing.

Hello! My name’s Tom Hanks, and I’m here today because Phil Hartman is dead.