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As promised my next anime review will be on Shin Sekai Yori or, From the New World.

I am in absolute awe of this novel-turned anime and am currently scrabbling to find out when an English translation of the text would be available. For now I’ll have to make do with just having this gem of an anime. Unlike in my KnK review, I will not be fangirling over the clarity and sophistication of the animation – though SSY is beautiful in its own way. While the anime comes second in visual astuteness, it makes up for it through its unique and compelling storyline. Days after I finished the anime I feel like I am walking through a haze, wistfully daydreaming about giant mole rats and telekinetic teenagers while humming the anime’s addictive main theme.

Story:

10/10

Books are the best. In an era dominated by otome romances and standardized supernatural stories – I am looking at you, Diabolik Lovers – you can tell when a story was written with the purpose of being thought provoking. Wedged between reels of mindless shonens and sickly shojos, SSY reminds you that anime can have a plot; that the medium has more to offer than gravity-defying breasts and ridiculous action sequences.

Set 1000 years into the future, the show follows six children, Saki, Satoru, Maria, Mamoru, Shun, and Reiko, who have been raised in one of the tranquil yet antiquated prefectures that resemble rural Japan today. Despite a millennium between modern day and Yusuke Kishi’s future utopia, it appears civilization has digressed back to a pre-industrial state. Their world is now a rural one; engulfed by trees and rivers with only a couple of hundred families (if that!) located in any one village. It’s a setting that would make the Romantics swoon. The big change? All the humans we see today have mad superpowers. Everyone has varying degrees of telekinesis, which is carefully controlled and monitored by the benevolent town’s ethics and security councils.

Despite the idyllic setting there is something amiss. As children, Saki and her friends hear rumors of terrifying cats that steal you away in the night, and while no one has ever confirmed these findings, it doesn’t change the fact that every so often children and adults go missing. As they grow, they encounter more and more discrepancies until one faithful day they encounter an item that allows them to realize the true nature of their world, and the long, bloody history that shadows it.

What unfolds is an incredibly intricate plot that thickens like good gravy. What begins as a tale about the adventures of some psychic children soon develops an adjacent story concerning creatures called, Monster Rats: colonies of Mole Rat humanoids that live beyond the towns in sprawling hoards that are fond of feudal disputes, but live to serve their overpowered neighbors; their ‘psychic’ masters. As the rats rage war against each other around them, the children return to school to resume their training, equipped with the terrible knowledge that their society is founded on secretive and deceptive principles, of which the Monster Rats play a crucial role in.

That’s all I am going to talk about in terms of the overarching plot for now. It’s too deep to try and write about in a review, and part of the fun of this particular anime is that the story leaves you guessing; there are so many aspects at work that you never know what’s going to happen next. What I will say is that my thumbs up goes to the characters and plot creation. The characters are loveable and believable, and their interpersonal chemistry makes what happens in the plot so much more tragic and compelling. Throughout it all there is never any clear distinction of who is in the wrong, and as the children stumble through their adolescence, it becomes obvious that they are living in a world of strife and cannot trust anyone outside their circle. Even the plight of the lowly Monster Rats is compelling. As they wage war on each other, and bicker over territory and expanding their colonies, their bestial natures resonate with that of primitive humans; and as the children develop, so do their embryonic ways and existence. They evolve, much to the horror of their ‘benign’ masters.

Go watch it so I can rave about the show with someone! The first six episodes are bizarre, but it only gets better from there. The last episode left me quite teary for characters I did not think I would come to care for so deeply.

Animation:

7/10

At times it’s a 9, at others, 7. A-1 Pictures weren't very consistent with the level of detail they displayed in their animation. Overall it was delicious, and Masashi Ishihama did well employing a few beautifully drawn scenes that leave an impression in your mind. It may not be a KnK with animation, but on the whole SSY mastered its limited budget and produced an artful show speckled with memorable shots and scenes.

Music:

8/10

The main theme is addictive. Kage No Denshouka Daiichibu, the main theme, has been stuck in my head for 3 weeks now. There is a lot of repetition in the show, but I think that really adds to the growing tension and ambiance of the anime: the melodic and someone sad New World Symphony by Antonin Dvorak that plays at the end of each school day becomes sinister; the tantalizing Kage No Denshouka Daiichibu intensifies as the anime develops and the sacrifices of the characters become intrinsic to it. It’s nice music. Not on par with Cowboy Bebop, but definitely pleasing to the ear.

Dislikes:

At times the random decrease in animation quality is irritating. (Nitpicking here).

… Yep! That’s it! Go treat yourself by watching this amazing show.

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Spoilers and swearing ahead! You have been warned!

Not too long ago I wrote a blog post welcoming the next season of George RR Martin’s Game of Thrones. Like millions of other viewers I was excited for the return of Westerosi madness; violent kings, venomous royals, twincest, bloody deaths, and the promise of stylized, extravagant medieval intercourse. HBO are Gods when it comes to providing late night television that sates our desire for stories riddled with violence and promiscuity, preferably in fantastical places or bygone pasts.  We want it, they provide it. But lately I’ve felt that they’ve been overdoing it in that arena, particularly with its overabundance of rape and prostitution.

I get it, I get it – Game of Thrones embodies the grim reality of human nature, and scenes of this make are a macabre tribute to our gruesome histories and the gritty veracity of rape, torture and misogyny… blah blah. However, there comes a point when as a viewer/reader, you consider how much the adaptation maps the objectives of the novel, and if it has been notably altered, reflect on these amendments and how they have impacted the storyline as a whole. In previous seasons, I have had no qualm with any revisions made by the screenwriters: significant scenes were covered, characters stayed ‘canon’ and any minor changes barely left a ripple on the extensive GoT conundrum. While it remains the case thatDavid Benioff and D. B. Weiss have been superstars when it comes to maintaining the integrity of the books, lately the plots seem to gravitate between violent sexual episodes and other instances where a woman’s body (or man’s – I saw a penis on GoT and it surprised me as much as anything) might logically be displayed. Yes, there is copious amounts of sex in the books: weird sex, incest, sex on your period, rape, sex that leaves me so surprised I have to bookmark it for a second digestion, but they resonate with Martin’s unsentimental realism; the fact that the inspiration for these atrocities are from our own sodden past. The gore, the sexual violence, in Martin’s own words, “pale in comparison to what can be found in any good history book”, and with that in mind we must approach the medium as a vehicle for representing these dark and tremulous truths.

For the books, of course. However, how far is this true for the series? Cautiously at first, HBO consulted the novels as if they were Gospel and followed Martin’s story to a tee, nevertheless, as the show blossomed into this cultural phenomenon, the producers have appeared wedded to the notion that the amplification of sexual undertones prevalent in the books needs to be divulged in every episode. In book-world, it isn’t necessary for every chapter to be riddled with taboos or ride on a constant climax. It isn’t convincing. Yet when it comes to television, where ratings and reviews dictate one’s artistic license, curbing the shock factor in a show indicates that there’s a decline; the writers have run out of spectacle to pump into the franchise, so it’s onto the next best thing. Television has to climb – its plots have to escalate; the sex has to be crazier, the violence more graphic. It isn’t easy to attract and keep a nation’s attention, after all, and if one has to trivialize rape in order to reel in those fat dollas and reverent accolades, so be it.

I am looking at you, guy who decided that having a cripple screw his twin sister while she is on her period next to their dead son, who is currently rotting on an altar, was too vanilla for T.V.

She kissed him. A light kiss, the merest brush of her lips on his, but he could feel her tremble as he slid his arms around her. “I am not whole without you.”There was no tenderness in the kiss he returned to her, only hunger. Her mouth opened for his tongue. “No,” she said weakly when his lips moved down her neck, “not here. The septons…”“The Others can take the septons.” He kissed her again, kissed her silent, kissed her until she moaned. Then he knocked the candles aside and lifted her up onto the Mother’s altar, pushing up her skirts and the silken shift beneath. She pounded on his chest with feeble fists, murmuring about the risk, the danger, about their father, about the septons, about the wrath of gods. He never heard her. He undid his breeches and climbed up and pushed her bare white legs apart. One hand slid up her thigh and underneath her smallclothes. When he tore them away, he saw that her moon’s blood was on her, but it made no difference.“Hurry,” she was whispering now, “quickly, quickly, now, do it now, do me now. Jaime Jaime Jaime.” Her hands helped guide him. “Yes,” Cersei said as he thrust, “my brother, sweet brother, yes, like that, yes, I have you, you’re home now, you’re home now, you’re home.” She kissed his ear and stroked his short bristly hair. Jaime lost himself in her flesh. He could feel Cersei’s heart beating in time with his own, and the wetness of blood and seed where they were joined.

This passage: weird and uncomfortable on so many levels. Television: it’s not weird enough. We need more rape. We’ve turned rape in a leitmotif this season, so let’s keep it up. No one will really mind – it is Cersei after all. I really hope that’s the stream of thought that went into deciding which direction to take this scene.

Now, the passage was hard for me to read without blushing and wriggling in my chair. Martin reigns supreme at making his readers squirm and avert their eyes; the vivid sensory detail that comes from POV chapters results in your being unable to escape the gravity of any circumstance. You are too close to the characters to be immune to their endeavors. At the same time, there remains the stoic realization that this is a natural course for these personalities – like Joffery skinning a cat, or Sansa crying somewhere in a tower. I can handle the spectacle because there is sustenance behind it – books worth of events that dictate that x, y z, are reasonable occurrences to have, because the interactions between a and b warrant it. For Jamie and Cersei, their debased acts are shocking, yet fathomable within the framework of their characters. However, it no longer becomes comprehensible when the writers train Jaime against the progressions made in the novel(s) (can’t stress the plural enough – do you know how long this character development took?). I won’t waste e-paper expounding how many alterations were given to Jamie during the Baratheon Red Wedding (I mean, he wasn’t even meant to be there until after Joff kicked it), but will focus on the paradigm shift that occurs by capturing Jaime as a rapist. From pushing a child out of the window of a high tower, to saving his undesirable warden from a bear, Jaime’s development from a self-worshiping bastard into a likeable leading man took time, effort and many subtle changes that culminate in his turning over a new leaf when he returns to King’s Landing. Seeing his sister and dead son after months of separation climaxes in a frantic passage that sees him reunited with his other half. The – dare I say it – sweetness of their union is brief, and from that point on we see the seeds of distrust and dislike fester in Jamie for Cersei, isolating him from the Lannister brood and giving him time to consider what aspects of his character he would like to remedy, without inflections from his family’s aspirations. This fissure between his family’s goals and his own encourages him to keep his oath to Cat Stark, yada yada yada, and so on and so forth.

It appears that the series has gotten back on track. Jaime feels remorse for having made a sacred promise to return Sansa to her mother, and assigns Brienne the task of finding her before his sister does. I want to love him for these grand steps – I really do – nevertheless, having witnessed only one episode ago how ruthlessly he treated his sister, it is hard for me to ignore his deviance and concentrate on the development at hand. Consequently, it was not the sex or implicit rape that directly afflicted me, it was the loss of character continuity. Having Jaime rape his sister alienates him from the growth and improvement that takes place in the novel, all for the sake of delivering a shocking scene that would leave the internet buzzing for weeks.

During Episode 4 and 5, another bout of rape occurs. Back in the dingy and putrid hell-hole that is Craster’s Keep, the gang of deserter crows enjoy their reign of terror; raping Crastor’s daughters, burning through his supply of alcohol and food, and tormenting Ghost, Jon Snow’s Direwolf. The image is bleak; dirty corpses, violent beatings, drunken slurs and profanity enough to blacken the snow. Evidently, it is an uncomfortable place. Karl regales the drunks with stories from his time at King’s Landing while they rape women left, right and center. For a good five minutes he splutters on screen, informing us viewers of his dastardly deeds – at least, I think that’s what he was saying. To be honest, I was so transfixed by the rape in the background (right beside his head so you can’t miss it) that I blanked on whatever dialogue was shared. I understand these are terrible people. Every crafted gesture and word from Karl is geared towards generating Joffery-level hate. The first instances of rape and abuse were enough for me to gather that they ain’t one of the good guys, and yet the series insists on mulling over the sexual deviance and violence exacted by these thugs until they’re beaten off the stage. There are other ways of expressing moral abandonment than having men smacking around the closest available wench, but as of late, it appears that ceaseless violence and rape is the only way to convey the insipidness of particular villains. Perhaps there is a sex quota that Game of Thrones has to meet, and random periods of sex and rape is the only way to fill this measure. Let’s not forget the show’s capitalization on Dornish Prince Oberyn’s arrival – bisexual and from place laden with orientalist tropes? That’s too good an opportunity to pass up.

Unsurprisingly, Martin disagrees with the social backlash the adaptations have warranted, and though much of the series appears to be left in the hands of Benioff and Weiss (particularly that scene between Jamie and Cersei) he believes that his caustic realism is being accurately portrayed in their variation.

"To omit them (sex and violence) from a narrative centered on war and power would have been fundamentally false and dishonest, and would have undermined one of the themes of the books: that the true horrors of human history derive not from orcs and Dark Lords, but from ourselves. We are the monsters. (And the heroes too). Each of us has within himself the capacity for great good, and great evil," the author said.

To some extent I must agree. The series does a fantastic job at capturing the entire spectrum of human existence. Martin doesn’t shy away from the bad, but revels in it, and if he believes that the series manages to capture the nuances of strife and horror through an overexposure of rape, so be it. Nevertheless, in my humble opinion, condensing an eight-hundred page novel into ten hours of visual aid with a surplus of sexual content, diminishes the story and their characters. I love GoT for its risqué and titillating plots wrought with violence and salacious sex, however, somewhere after the third season the balance between storytelling and spectacle took a turn for the worse.

Game of Thrones: A Summary: this summarizes how I feel quite perfectly.