Rahxephon
At first glance, RahXephon could be shelved and dismissed as "Another Giant Robot Anime" or as it is commonly stereotyped "A Poor Man’s Neon Genesis Evangelion". Though it is near impossible to review RahXephon without mentioning and comparing it with Hideaki Anno's groundbreaking series, the stand-alone quality of the series should merit a review free of comparisons or need for substitution. It is ironic, that the mulish, diehard fans of Neon Genesis Evangelion are those who have bestowed such a debasing and rancorous title on RahXephon, as this is ultimately the only alternative to quality of such an immense magnitude as Evangelion offered in 1995. Evangelion fans will have to take the palpable parallels with a pinch of salt, and do as I did in enjoying RahXephon for its individual merits and prestige.
Ayato Kamina is to RahXephon as Shinji Ikari was to Neon Genesis Evangelion, forced into leaving his mundane routines of school and leisurely pursuits to have the world he thought he knew fall from beneath him. On a seemingly normal day, Ayato's home city of Tokyo falls under attack by giant flying aircraft. The 17-year old flees the wreckage of the subway and tries to find shelter anywhere possible, but is instead drawn to Xephon Temple, the resting ground of an enormous egg, after encountering a classmate on his frantic scurries across town. It is at the Xephon Temple that Ayato’s troubles kick off, as the teenager learns of his connection with an enormous automaton (mech if you will) nestling inside the oversized egg. After discovering his deviant destiny as pilot of RahXephon, Ayato later learns that his 17 years of content in Tokyo have been false.
It’s hard to discuss RahXephon without giving too much away, but by the third episode you know that Studio BONES have something truly magnificent on their hands. RahXephon's pivotal characters are established and explored from the get-go, and the series wastes little time in revealing the insecurities and intricacies of the cast. The plot tends to race around for the first couple of episodes, but it would take a pretty impatient viewer to be deterred by the chaotic opening couple. After the story is founded, RahXephon breaks away from rivals and peers as the plot becomes laden with surprises, suspense, secrecy and tremendous heights of ambiguity. Again this is the adopted formula that made Neon Genesis Evangelion so widely successful, but opting to sequester the religious symbolism that Evangelion was unfortunately criticised for by a select few assessors.
I’ll try to steer away from Neon Genesis Evangelion comparisons for the remainder of this review, as I’m sure readers have already grown tired of its constant citing. Still, keep your heads if the name does pop up once or twice. There’s the odd series that comes along that spoils all the acmes and zeniths of the plot with horrific animation, or substandard to stay the least, but RahXephon is one of the only series that I can wholeheartedly say maintains a high standard in both areas of production throughout. Though originality isn’t the forte of such a style, its fluidity and grandeur assures sceptics that matured methods can still amaze and astound a candid audience. The use of CG animation may not rival the titanic degrees of the crown bearing Vandread, but it surprisingly fits the celluloid animation so well that it is often hopeless to try and distinguish the two.
RahXephon relies heavily on sound in many aspects of plot building; RahXephon itself for example, uses a sound-based attack as his greatest form of offence, and such characters as Kisaragi Quon are ardent performers on a wealth of instruments, a violin in Quon's case. This brings forth the opportunity for many musical breaks in the show, opportunities that Studio BONES seize very often and present chilling, sombre and melodic solos. The naive amongst us will detest such an approach for the musical score, but in defence of the title I would bluntly say that this isn’t a show for idiots.
What I mean of course is that RahXephon explores a pantheon of themes that those familiar to Dragon Ball, Narrator and Pokemon would not be able to keep up with. Viewers must keep in mind that RahXephon was not a shallow attempt at grabbing ratings for TV Osaka, and it was most certainly not BONES’ financial trump. Personally, I see the series as a cultured effort at redefining what can and cannot be done in the anime industry. Whether it is indeed their spin on the Neon Genesis Evangelion (there I go again) formula is irrelevant, as RahXephon is a magnificent series that I certainly rank amongst my all-time favourites. I was shocked, moved, astounded and compelled to re-watch the series a number of times after fathoming out the enigmatic climax. If a series can do this much for one man, then it must be something worth your enquiry. Right? Thought so.
Ayato Kamina is to RahXephon as Shinji Ikari was to Neon Genesis Evangelion, forced into leaving his mundane routines of school and leisurely pursuits to have the world he thought he knew fall from beneath him. On a seemingly normal day, Ayato's home city of Tokyo falls under attack by giant flying aircraft. The 17-year old flees the wreckage of the subway and tries to find shelter anywhere possible, but is instead drawn to Xephon Temple, the resting ground of an enormous egg, after encountering a classmate on his frantic scurries across town. It is at the Xephon Temple that Ayato’s troubles kick off, as the teenager learns of his connection with an enormous automaton (mech if you will) nestling inside the oversized egg. After discovering his deviant destiny as pilot of RahXephon, Ayato later learns that his 17 years of content in Tokyo have been false.
It’s hard to discuss RahXephon without giving too much away, but by the third episode you know that Studio BONES have something truly magnificent on their hands. RahXephon's pivotal characters are established and explored from the get-go, and the series wastes little time in revealing the insecurities and intricacies of the cast. The plot tends to race around for the first couple of episodes, but it would take a pretty impatient viewer to be deterred by the chaotic opening couple. After the story is founded, RahXephon breaks away from rivals and peers as the plot becomes laden with surprises, suspense, secrecy and tremendous heights of ambiguity. Again this is the adopted formula that made Neon Genesis Evangelion so widely successful, but opting to sequester the religious symbolism that Evangelion was unfortunately criticised for by a select few assessors.
I’ll try to steer away from Neon Genesis Evangelion comparisons for the remainder of this review, as I’m sure readers have already grown tired of its constant citing. Still, keep your heads if the name does pop up once or twice. There’s the odd series that comes along that spoils all the acmes and zeniths of the plot with horrific animation, or substandard to stay the least, but RahXephon is one of the only series that I can wholeheartedly say maintains a high standard in both areas of production throughout. Though originality isn’t the forte of such a style, its fluidity and grandeur assures sceptics that matured methods can still amaze and astound a candid audience. The use of CG animation may not rival the titanic degrees of the crown bearing Vandread, but it surprisingly fits the celluloid animation so well that it is often hopeless to try and distinguish the two.
RahXephon relies heavily on sound in many aspects of plot building; RahXephon itself for example, uses a sound-based attack as his greatest form of offence, and such characters as Kisaragi Quon are ardent performers on a wealth of instruments, a violin in Quon's case. This brings forth the opportunity for many musical breaks in the show, opportunities that Studio BONES seize very often and present chilling, sombre and melodic solos. The naive amongst us will detest such an approach for the musical score, but in defence of the title I would bluntly say that this isn’t a show for idiots.
What I mean of course is that RahXephon explores a pantheon of themes that those familiar to Dragon Ball, Narrator and Pokemon would not be able to keep up with. Viewers must keep in mind that RahXephon was not a shallow attempt at grabbing ratings for TV Osaka, and it was most certainly not BONES’ financial trump. Personally, I see the series as a cultured effort at redefining what can and cannot be done in the anime industry. Whether it is indeed their spin on the Neon Genesis Evangelion (there I go again) formula is irrelevant, as RahXephon is a magnificent series that I certainly rank amongst my all-time favourites. I was shocked, moved, astounded and compelled to re-watch the series a number of times after fathoming out the enigmatic climax. If a series can do this much for one man, then it must be something worth your enquiry. Right? Thought so.