1 “Is Lupin Burning...?!” & 2 “The Man They Call
May 1, 2015 8:20:17 GMT -5
Douay-Rheims-Challoner, ComradePig, and 2 more like this
Post by Jean Luc de Lemur on May 1, 2015 8:20:17 GMT -5
1 Lupin is Burning?!
The first episode of Lupin III doesn’t actually have any real thieving in it. Lupin III was, to some degree, a take on Bond, and it’s never more obvious than here. This is a fairly simple 1960s-style spy story—Lupin’s goal is to take down a shadowy organization (complete with cheesy name and invertebrate logo) led by a grotesque rich businessman who is after him for unspecified reasons. Other than Lupin and company acting independently of the state there’s no real sense that we’re dealing with the world’s greatest thief. He just another spy-ish figure with a flexible moral code who’s very good at operating machinery.
This episode has Lupin at his roughest, and it’s a bit of a shock to someone whose main exposure to him was from The Castle of Cagliostro. I wasn’t joking when I referred to early Lupin as the “Connery” Lupin—there’s a joyous, amoral malevolence in his character in “Lupin Is Burning?!” He blows up a racetrack (and, by all appearances, several drivers in their cars) , electrocutes a bunch of guards, and leeringly wishes the odd tickling device Fujiko was trapped into had gone a little further in ripping off her clothes. What distinguishes Lupin here from various spies is that there’s not even the pretense of working for the greater good—it’s all satisfaction of his appetites.
This lack of pretenses makes Lupin both compelling and, in this episode, kind of difficult to like. Helping out is the fact that he also lacks Bondian pretensions of class. He certainly has rich tastes—the episode lingers on his chronometer watch, for example—but we’d never see Bond masquerade as a plumber and joking about clogged-up women’s toilets. The original Arsène Lupin was described as a gentleman-cambrioleur—gentleman-burglar—and that same polarity of class is found in Lupin. Plus, lacking the official sanction of the vandals, thieves and murderers of 1960s spy fare, Lupin’s never in a position of power.
Overall, though, the episode feels assembled from various bits of sixties cool that didn’t quite fit together. Having to serve as an introduction to all these characters doesn’t help, either—we get a strangely grave introduction to Officer Zenigata, Lupin’s pursuer. Fujiko Mine, the leading lady of the series, is at her most Bond girlish here—in distress, rides off into the sunset at the end (though in a welcome bit of role reversal Lupin is driven off by Fujiko). Even down to the somewhat elastic character designs, “Lupin is Burning?!” is very much a pilot.
As odd, crude and archetypical as it seems in relation to what comes after, though, there’s still a welcome bit of complexity.
Recommended?
Yes, for the “joyful malevolence.”
[Edit: Edit: Initially only recommended “with reservations—it’s definitely more interesting in the context of the series than good,” but I’ve since revisited the episode and both unreservedly enjoy it and find its mix of action, humor and malevolence an excellent intro to Lupin as a whole, not just this series.]
Stray Observations
• A note on sources—there’s not a lot online (at least in English, French, German, Dutch, Norwegian or Greek online) about the history of the series, so basically everything on the history of the show is from Wikipedia or lupinencyclopedia.com (which is also very light on info, but at least has screenplay/director/storyboarder credits).
[Edit: There actually is a fair amount on Lupin online, but a lot of it is in places that did not pay much attention to search-engine optimization.]
• This is actually the second Lupin pilot—scenes from the original are in the opening sequence and more of it will be repurposed for a later episode. That was made in 1969, and even though “Lupin Is Burning?!” aired in 1971 it really does feel like a product of the previous decade.
• I was going to say something along the lines of “stupid sixties, invent the interrobang!” but it actually was invented in the sixties and included in typefaces as early as 1966. So stupid sixties, widely adopt the interrobang!
• Something that the late sixties and early seventies did widely adopt were long sideburns—although they’re most associated with Lupin, everyone wears them.
• Zenigata helpfully says that he is a descendent of Zenigata. Well, helpfully for a Japanese audience—the original Zenigata was a fictional Edo-era detective.
• They mention a Matra in the race, guys! And Zenigata drives a Lotus! I have a real weak spot for classic Formula 1.
• This is Fujiko at her most Bond girl-ish, but still displaying a lot more independence and character than most. It’s worth noting that (per Wikipedia) in the original manga Lupin is consistently getting the upper hand and tricking her rather than vice versa like in the show.
2 The Man They Call a Magician
It took me a long time to get used to the music of Lupin III but eventually it became one of my favorite elements of the show. Despite the action, it’s often pretty laid-back, and the ultimate background track makes its first appearance in this episode: a stoned (alright, stoned-seeming) spoken-word-over-music piece about Lupin. We can’t hear much, but we get “Lupin, he’s a nice man…yeah he’s-uh Lupin III.”
In the context of the last episode that seems a pretty bold claim, but it makes sense here. Although Miyazaki and Takahata won’t join the series for another few episodes, we can start to see the beginning of their more altruistic Lupin here.
We still don’t get to see Lupin steal anything. We start with him lying around doing nothing while Jigen practices his marksmanship—at times this episode is positively bucolic. Much to Jigen’s chagrin, though, there’s a complication: Fujiko. And searching after her is a mysterious, fire-shooting, bullet-repellant man named Pycal. Lupin and Jigen unsuccessfully keep him from invading their hideout—when he knocks on Fujiko’s response is to fire more rounds, faster, with a bigger gun.
At her best, Fujiko always brings a propulsive intensity that they lack (it’s amazing how much she’s developed after only one episode). She’s an excellent foil to the calm self-assurance of Lupin and Jigen, and she gives the otherwise relaxed “The Man They Call a Magician” a visceral jolt. Fujiko brute-forces her way through problems. It’s Fujiko who does the legwork in unmasking Pycal’s tricks, seducing him, stealing (finally!) his coded blueprints and formulae and leaving them with Lupin for safekeeping. Lupin, on the other hand, doesn’t really do that much in this episode: in an ode to Newton and Kekulé, only manages to piece together his formulae after falling out of a tree and seeing the covalent bonds dance around on Pycal’s slides.
One needs both brute force and inspiration to solve any problem, and the interaction between Fujiko and Lupin is the highlight of the episode, and what makes it so worthwhile. Here’s where we get to the “nice” bits, or perhaps better the self-motivated good deeds. The main image for this review is of Fujiko warning Lupin against Pycal, but Fujiko’s main motivation is always Fujiko’s loot—in this case, she doesn’t want Pycal’s slides burnt to a crisp, and that’s where Fujiko’s extra tenderness this episode comes from (or at least part of it does—we can never quite be sure).
Lupin does let the slides burn, though. There’s an element of self-interest here, but it’s more abstract and never spelled out in dialogue. A world where Lupin’s fellow underworld figures have access to miniaturized flamethrowers and bullet shields is an unacceptable escalation. It causes more collateral damage and yields Lupin and Jigen’s skills somewhat obsolete. It’s a threat to that languorous equilibrium we saw at the beginning. Ultimately, Lupin’s making the world a safer place.
Recommended
Yes—like a lot of early Lupin’s it’s on the fantastic side of spy-fi, but it’s well composed and has a lot of nice character work
Stray Observations
• Obviously we’re dealing with early seventies TV animation and from what little I’ve poked around the anime reviews universe people generally don’t like “dated” stuff, but that strikes me a little like knocking Ambrogio Lorenzetti for not using oil paints.
• Fujiko does have a damsel moment, but she manages to save herself.
• Pycal’s name seems to be a riff on πυρ, the Greek word for fire (which has a sort shooting connotation in modern Greek), and calor, the Latin word for heat
Next Week we say “Farewell My Beloved Witch” and have but “Once Chance to Breakout.”
This episode has Lupin at his roughest, and it’s a bit of a shock to someone whose main exposure to him was from The Castle of Cagliostro. I wasn’t joking when I referred to early Lupin as the “Connery” Lupin—there’s a joyous, amoral malevolence in his character in “Lupin Is Burning?!” He blows up a racetrack (and, by all appearances, several drivers in their cars) , electrocutes a bunch of guards, and leeringly wishes the odd tickling device Fujiko was trapped into had gone a little further in ripping off her clothes. What distinguishes Lupin here from various spies is that there’s not even the pretense of working for the greater good—it’s all satisfaction of his appetites.
This lack of pretenses makes Lupin both compelling and, in this episode, kind of difficult to like. Helping out is the fact that he also lacks Bondian pretensions of class. He certainly has rich tastes—the episode lingers on his chronometer watch, for example—but we’d never see Bond masquerade as a plumber and joking about clogged-up women’s toilets. The original Arsène Lupin was described as a gentleman-cambrioleur—gentleman-burglar—and that same polarity of class is found in Lupin. Plus, lacking the official sanction of the vandals, thieves and murderers of 1960s spy fare, Lupin’s never in a position of power.
Overall, though, the episode feels assembled from various bits of sixties cool that didn’t quite fit together. Having to serve as an introduction to all these characters doesn’t help, either—we get a strangely grave introduction to Officer Zenigata, Lupin’s pursuer. Fujiko Mine, the leading lady of the series, is at her most Bond girlish here—in distress, rides off into the sunset at the end (though in a welcome bit of role reversal Lupin is driven off by Fujiko). Even down to the somewhat elastic character designs, “Lupin is Burning?!” is very much a pilot.
As odd, crude and archetypical as it seems in relation to what comes after, though, there’s still a welcome bit of complexity.
Recommended?
Yes, for the “joyful malevolence.”
[Edit: Edit: Initially only recommended “with reservations—it’s definitely more interesting in the context of the series than good,” but I’ve since revisited the episode and both unreservedly enjoy it and find its mix of action, humor and malevolence an excellent intro to Lupin as a whole, not just this series.]
Stray Observations
• A note on sources—there’s not a lot online (at least in English, French, German, Dutch, Norwegian or Greek online) about the history of the series, so basically everything on the history of the show is from Wikipedia or lupinencyclopedia.com (which is also very light on info, but at least has screenplay/director/storyboarder credits).
[Edit: There actually is a fair amount on Lupin online, but a lot of it is in places that did not pay much attention to search-engine optimization.]
• This is actually the second Lupin pilot—scenes from the original are in the opening sequence and more of it will be repurposed for a later episode. That was made in 1969, and even though “Lupin Is Burning?!” aired in 1971 it really does feel like a product of the previous decade.
• I was going to say something along the lines of “stupid sixties, invent the interrobang!” but it actually was invented in the sixties and included in typefaces as early as 1966. So stupid sixties, widely adopt the interrobang!
• Something that the late sixties and early seventies did widely adopt were long sideburns—although they’re most associated with Lupin, everyone wears them.
• Zenigata helpfully says that he is a descendent of Zenigata. Well, helpfully for a Japanese audience—the original Zenigata was a fictional Edo-era detective.
• They mention a Matra in the race, guys! And Zenigata drives a Lotus! I have a real weak spot for classic Formula 1.
• This is Fujiko at her most Bond girl-ish, but still displaying a lot more independence and character than most. It’s worth noting that (per Wikipedia) in the original manga Lupin is consistently getting the upper hand and tricking her rather than vice versa like in the show.
2 The Man They Call a Magician
It took me a long time to get used to the music of Lupin III but eventually it became one of my favorite elements of the show. Despite the action, it’s often pretty laid-back, and the ultimate background track makes its first appearance in this episode: a stoned (alright, stoned-seeming) spoken-word-over-music piece about Lupin. We can’t hear much, but we get “Lupin, he’s a nice man…yeah he’s-uh Lupin III.”
In the context of the last episode that seems a pretty bold claim, but it makes sense here. Although Miyazaki and Takahata won’t join the series for another few episodes, we can start to see the beginning of their more altruistic Lupin here.
We still don’t get to see Lupin steal anything. We start with him lying around doing nothing while Jigen practices his marksmanship—at times this episode is positively bucolic. Much to Jigen’s chagrin, though, there’s a complication: Fujiko. And searching after her is a mysterious, fire-shooting, bullet-repellant man named Pycal. Lupin and Jigen unsuccessfully keep him from invading their hideout—when he knocks on Fujiko’s response is to fire more rounds, faster, with a bigger gun.
At her best, Fujiko always brings a propulsive intensity that they lack (it’s amazing how much she’s developed after only one episode). She’s an excellent foil to the calm self-assurance of Lupin and Jigen, and she gives the otherwise relaxed “The Man They Call a Magician” a visceral jolt. Fujiko brute-forces her way through problems. It’s Fujiko who does the legwork in unmasking Pycal’s tricks, seducing him, stealing (finally!) his coded blueprints and formulae and leaving them with Lupin for safekeeping. Lupin, on the other hand, doesn’t really do that much in this episode: in an ode to Newton and Kekulé, only manages to piece together his formulae after falling out of a tree and seeing the covalent bonds dance around on Pycal’s slides.
One needs both brute force and inspiration to solve any problem, and the interaction between Fujiko and Lupin is the highlight of the episode, and what makes it so worthwhile. Here’s where we get to the “nice” bits, or perhaps better the self-motivated good deeds. The main image for this review is of Fujiko warning Lupin against Pycal, but Fujiko’s main motivation is always Fujiko’s loot—in this case, she doesn’t want Pycal’s slides burnt to a crisp, and that’s where Fujiko’s extra tenderness this episode comes from (or at least part of it does—we can never quite be sure).
Lupin does let the slides burn, though. There’s an element of self-interest here, but it’s more abstract and never spelled out in dialogue. A world where Lupin’s fellow underworld figures have access to miniaturized flamethrowers and bullet shields is an unacceptable escalation. It causes more collateral damage and yields Lupin and Jigen’s skills somewhat obsolete. It’s a threat to that languorous equilibrium we saw at the beginning. Ultimately, Lupin’s making the world a safer place.
Recommended
Yes—like a lot of early Lupin’s it’s on the fantastic side of spy-fi, but it’s well composed and has a lot of nice character work
Stray Observations
• Obviously we’re dealing with early seventies TV animation and from what little I’ve poked around the anime reviews universe people generally don’t like “dated” stuff, but that strikes me a little like knocking Ambrogio Lorenzetti for not using oil paints.
• Fujiko does have a damsel moment, but she manages to save herself.
• Pycal’s name seems to be a riff on πυρ, the Greek word for fire (which has a sort shooting connotation in modern Greek), and calor, the Latin word for heat
Next Week we say “Farewell My Beloved Witch” and have but “Once Chance to Breakout.”
