There exists unanimous agreement among film historians that 1939 was ‘the greatest in Hollywood film history’. The watershed year witnessed the release of such landmark films as Gone with the Wind, The Wizard of Oz, Stagecoach, Of Mice and Men, Dark Victory, Mr Smith Goes to Washington, Wuthering Heights, and Ninotchka. What made 1939 all the more fascinating was that these films encompassed a wide array of genres—historical romance (Gone with the Wind), musical (The Wizard of Oz), western (Stagecoach), literary adaptation (Wuthering Heights), drama (Of Mice and Men), social commentary (Mr Smith goes to Washington), tragedy (Dark Victory), and comedy (Ninotchka).
In the same vein, though far less celebrated, 1988 was an astounding year for the Japanese film industry. However, there is one small difference. The three Japanese films released that year that went on to make a mark worldwide all belonged to the same broad genre—animation, or anime (Japanimation) to be precise, which is the nomenclature for the peculiar animation style originating in Japan. Isao Takahata’s Grave of the Fireflies, an animated drama, is widely known as one of the most powerful and influential anti-war films ever made; the maestro Hayao Miyazaki’s My Neighbor Totoro is a top-drawer example of animated adventure-fantasy; while Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira has the envious reputation of having introduced anime to the West.
Akira is a two-hour-long film, condensed from a six-volume, 2,182-page long manga (cartoons, comic books, and animated films that adhere to a typical Japanese style of drawing), created by Otomo himself that was published in a serialised form from 1982 to 1990. When it was first released in the US and Europe in the 1990s, Akira changed the way Westerners—who were till then fed only on a Disney diet—view animation forever (in one particular scene of the film there is a building, which bears an uncanny resemblance to the Walt Disney logo). Even today, almost 25 years after it crept on to celluloid, Akira continues to astound its audience in the same manner it stumped the American distributors on its release, who had never seen an animation film like it before. Similarly, audiences to this day are confounded when they try to pigeonhole Akira into a specific sub-genre. But all these differences aside, if there is consensus on a film as path-breaking as Akira, which paved the way for renowned anime directors like Satoshi Kon (Perfect Blue, Paprika), Mamoru Oshii (Ghost in the Shell) and Yoshiaki Kawajiri (Ninja Scroll), it is that Akira is prescient and prophetic.
As the film begins with a bird’s eye view of Tokyo, we learn that on 16 July 1988 (which, incidentally, happened to be the exact date when Akira was first screened in Japan), after a nuclear explosion ripped through the city, Third World War had broken out. The screen immediately turns red and the overhead view of the topographical features of the city take on an eerie resemblance to blood-soaked veins and arteries.
This pre-title card scene encapsulates the entire philosophy of the film. The perspective from above is akin to god’s point-of-view. But what followed was not an act of creation but a deed of destruction. It is as if our relentless pursuit to play god runs through our veins and inevitably ends in blood being spilled.
Thirty-one years later, in 2019, a lot of blood is being spilled on the roads of Neo-Tokyo—the city that arose from the ashes. Tokyo, or the Old City, as it is known, is now nothing but a crater that stares continuously like an unblinking eye. The physical destruction of the Old City is mirrored in the disruption of the moral fabric of the new one. Here, terrorism is rampant, unemployment is on the rise, and nationwide riots between the aggrieved populace and the police are commonplace. In such a dystopian future, where corrupt politicians rule the roost, the streets and highways provide the backdrop for a different kind of power struggle—that between rival biker gangs like the Capsules and the Clowns.
Shôtarô Kaneda is the leader of the Capsules. His best friend and companion since childhood is Tetsuo Shima. Ever since they met each other at a shelter, Kaneda has treated Tetsuo more as a brother than a friend. This protective nature has led Tetsuo to bear a thinly veiled grudge towards Kaneda, who has made a habit of coming to his rescue every time. But one day, during a high-speed bike chase, Tetsuo meets with an accident, and for the first time Kaneda fails to offer his helping hand. Instead, the military steps in and carries the wounded Tetsuo away.
What begins as Kaneda’s attempt to rescue his companion soon turns into a perilous journey that will involve a terrorist group; a trio of wrinkle-faced, psychic kids called Espers; the hard-as-nails Colonel Shikishima; the scientist Dr Onishi; and above all, the shrouded-in-mystery military experiment named Akira.
Man-made destructions and their aftermath are a leit motif in manga. It is a common device to tap into the cultural consciousness of Japan. Against this background that portrays man not as a higher power but akin to an amoeba that devours everything in its path, Akira posits the pros and cons of a psycho-spiritual awakening at two levels—man as an individual and as a species.
Otomo’s pessimism towards the so-called ‘evolution’ of man is apparent in the first scene of Akira itself, when in one singular motion an entire city gets wiped out. This is nothing but a depiction of an ungodly act that arises from harnessing god-like power. While humanity’s relentless pursuit has always been to control such power, Otomo shows that there comes a time when the power starts controlling us, instead.
Drawing upon the basic philosophy that is preached by religions as varied as Buddhism and Sufism—that of the innate relation between the creator and the created—Akira’s anime might look slightly dated today, but the secret of its longevity lies in its message that transcend time: ‘There’s ought to be a future that we can choose for ourselves. It’s up to us to find it’.
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