5 “Introducing Goemon XIII” & 6 “Danger of a Rainy Afternoon
May 15, 2015 7:15:40 GMT -5
Douay-Rheims-Challoner and moimoi like this
Post by Jean Luc de Lemur on May 15, 2015 7:15:40 GMT -5
5 Introducing Goemon XIII
Lupin III, by nature, is a cosmopolitan show. A lot of the original episodes don’t take place anywhere in particular—much of it could take place in Japan or Alpes-Maritimes and it wouldn’t make much difference, and when it does take place someplace semi-specific it’s an odd corner of Europe as often as Tokyo (probably more often). This extends to the lead duo themselves—Lupin’s treated as half-French, half-Japanese or just ethnically ambiguous, and Jigen is actually Japanese-American, which gets a rare mention in this episode. These are homages to the characters’ inspirations: Lupin III by Lupin I, and Jigen Daisuke by classic American tough gun-wielders, specifically James Coburn in The Magnificent Seven (and Kobayashi Kiyoshi, Jigen’s voice actor, also has an impressive repertoire in dubs of American films—Coburn himself, Lee Marvin, Sam Elliott, Jack Palance, and Clint Eastwood). They’re globalized characters inspired by a globalized media.
It’s not hard to pin Lupin III as a Japanese-made series, though. Last week’s “One Chance for a Prison Break” was suffused with references to Buddhism and revolved around Lupin’s need to right a dishonor. Were it written by a European or American “One Chance” might have turned out much the same story-wise, but the details and mood would have been totally different (and early Lupin works largely because of mood). Fujiko’s totally Japanese background is a result of her just being a generic girl-of-the-week in the original comics—she’s a step above background, but not really enough of her own person to have anything more than the default ethnicity, which for a Japanese author is Japanese.
Still, this wasn’t considered enough for the comics’ Japanese audiences, and the decision was made to add a character who couldn’t be anything but Japanese: Ishikawa Goemon XIII. Like Lupin and Zenigata, he has an ancestry fitting his procession—the original Ishikawa Goemon actually occurs in historical records as a thief, but eventually developed into a folkloric Robin Hood figure, an anti-authoritarian samurai. Goemon’s more immediate inspiration, though, parallels Jigen’s: Kyuzo from The Seven Samurai (down to Miyagazi Seiji’s face)
And Goemon XIII does not skimp on the samurai aspect—he appears in antiquated dress and only wields a sword. If one starts watching Lupin from somewhere else in the animated canon (like yours truly), his first appearance is something of a shock. And Lupin can’t help but treat him as a joke when he first appears—in his lowest-effort disguise yet (donning glasses and buttoning his jacket), Lupin can barely keep a straight face when talking to this absurd man, talking about swords and rejecting everything the West—the cosmopolitan outside world Lupin and Jigen come from—has to offer.
While Goemon proves himself a skilled martial artist, he is ultimately made the fool by the more modern men and women around him. Although the ages of the characters are indeterminate, there’s a real sense of youth and inexperience in Goemon. It’s compounded by the fact that it’s something of a studied inexperience—his sense of honor keeps Goemon from going the same distance as Fujiko (who comes out ahead of everyone), Jigen, or Lupin (who resolves the episode’s plot with the shot of a gun). But within the limits Goemon sets for himself there’s also an impetuousness and energy, particularly in the way he runs after and confronts Lupin, that gives the character a real charm.
It also makes Goemon an effective foil to the relaxed, technologically oriented Lupin. Lupin’s only answer to Goemon’s bullet-slicing swordplay is the use of an inflammable liquid (and so Masaaki’s Lupin’s pyromania resurfaces after a one-episode lull). Their duel’s one of the oddest, suspension-of-disbelief bending sequences yet—Goemon slices bullets in mid-air while Lupin and Goemon both end up on fire, fighting as drawings on a uniformly red flame. The outlined Lupin and Goemon have a sketchy energy to them, making it an interesting use of animation to take the show’s spy-fi to places live action couldn’t go.
The show uses its stretched-out suspension of disbelief to toy with the audience’s expectations, too. The episode’s true villain is Mamochi (whose name I can only assume translates to “Lord of the Fringe”), Goemon’s manipulative teacher. He initially claims that his designs on Goemon and Lupin aren’t personal—rather, an underworld organization used a supercomputer to analyze potential threats, identified Lupin and Goemon, and brainwashed Mamochi into doing their bidding.
Mamochi’s motivations end up being much more prosaic, but such a situation’s certainly not outside the realm of Lupin III’s sometimes Prisoner-esque sense of reality. The uncertainties of living in the present—how to choose between multiple, seemingly-equally-likely truth—might put us in sympathy with Goemon’s retreat from modernity. In a nice bit of foreshadowing Mamochi mistakes a radio announcer for a cooing Fujiko—who’s to know where human agency ends and the machines begin?
While the first four episodes are fairly plot-light, but for the first time we really have a twisty, multi-sided plot, which is fun but also lacks some of the breathing room of the earlier episodes (I might even say mu, another way in which Lupin III manages to be Japanese without always being obviously so). Despite all this interesting stuff, we’re starting to have feel the grip of something new to Lupin: formula. It’s not as evident on a first viewing, but many of the archetypical Lupin plot elements are falling into place. This is particularly obvious in the case of Fujiko: she plays one side, plays the other, is actually after a jewel or some other shiny material reward, and double-crosses everybody without dropping her mask. It’s not that interesting, and lacks the ambiguity (and heart) of her previous couple of appearances. At least she’s still getting the last laugh.
Stray Observations
• I’ve switched to last-name-first for these reviews. That’s largely a consequence of watching these subbed and everyone’s name sticking out in Japanese order, so it feels more natural for me to write “Daisuke Jigen” or “Mine Fujiko” than vice-versa.
• Fujiko’s Renault Alpine resurfaces. On my first watch-through I didn’t recall it recurring like Lupin’s wheels do, so I’ll have to watch out for it as the season progresses.
•I forgot to italicize the mention of The Prisoner the first time around.
Recommended
Yes.
6 Danger of a Rainy Afternoon
Lupin III is episodic. While Lupin evolves over the course of the show, it’s because of what happens off-screen—changes in staff, greater comfort in writing the character, etc.—not because Lupin’s shaped by his adventures. I don’t think as a rule episodic series are better or worse than serialized ones, just different. That means it needs to be reviewed with a different set of critical tools, too. “Danger of a Rainy Afternoon” is an accomplished episode, not because of anything it does in particular, but because it’s manages to be an ordinary adventure and a good episode. There’s no introduction of new characters, like in “Introducing Goemon XIII,” and there’s no sense that we’re going off-format like in “One Chance for a Prison Break.” This is a typical Lupin caper, and it’s satisfying without seeming terribly unique.
Lupin III still hasn’t quite settled into routine, at least as far as the opening sequence is concerned. There’s a different, jazzier instrumental theme at the beginning. Although Lupin’s narration remains the same, it sounds less boyish and playful against it. It’s an appropriate introduction for the episode. The opening direction’s also great—focusing on Lupin’s feet as he runs into his lodgings of the week, rain dripping down his pants legs. It’s a moody beginning perfect for a pulp adventure. Indeed, the episode’s full of nice little visual touches and scene setting, and while faster-paced than the first four episodes “Danger on a Rainy Afternoon” manages to marry some of their bucolic atmosphere with the faster-paced action.
Again, we’ve lost the early episode’s breathing room for a dense plot full of turns and betrayals. Drawn into investigating a catatonic mob boss by Fujiko (“Me? I’m just the maid”), it quickly becomes a between Lupin and Jigen’s impromptu gang to discover what Fujiko is hiding and get to it first. Although Zenigata appears in this episode, for most of the episode it’s more Lupin who’s playing the detective. We’re watching him piece together a set of underworld mysteries, the main difference being that he’s solving them for himself, not a broader concept of justice.
Lupin’s doubly thwarted in the end—Fujiko rebuffs him, out-maneuvers him and gets away with the prize. It’s hard to escape the conclusion that it’s Fujiko that’s the world’s greatest thief, not Lupin. Fujiko’s voice actor, Nikaido Yukiko, deserves a lot of the credit for Fujiko’s personality, adding a playfully facetious undertone to her faux-ditzy “I’m just the maid” line, and her tone of voice—triumphant but lighthearted—makes the conclusion of the episode seem obvious in retrospect.
There’s still a sense of this being part of a larger set of similar capers, though—we begin in media res, and by the end of the episode it turns out this was just one interlude in a larger chase. This makes it all the more odd that we only get this sort of story six episodes in, like suddenly switching to Danger Man after a marathon of The Prisoner. And this “typical” early episode Lupin episode is also an exception—it’s the only example of such a straightforward heist in the early run, and next week we’re already in the transitional period with to Masaaki, and Miyazaki and Takahata working contemporaneously. It’s a bit of a shame we only get such a well-built, accessible episode six episodes in—one wonders what would have happened if the show had led off with this.
Stray Observations
• Although the Lupin franchise is known for its continuity of voice actors, neither Nikaido Yukiko nor the first series’s Goemon (Ōtsuka Chikao) continue onward, and Japanese audiences know their second series voices, respectively Masuyama Eiko and Inoue Makio, better. I can’t hear much of a difference between either, honestly—while I might not like Masuyama’s performances as much, this is more a result of how unevenly Fujiko’s written than anything else.
• Based on the Citroën police cars and paddy wagon we’re definitely in France for this episode.
• Fujiko’s Alpine doesn’t resurface—whether the AC Ace (“I’m just a maid!”) she’s driving here is hers or her bosses isn’t said. Another, more workaday Renault does appear and is referred to in the dialogue, hilariously rendered in the subtitles as “Runo.”
Recommended?
Yes—it’s the most refined of the early run, with everything finally working like a well-oiled machine. That makes it a little less interesting to write about, but it’s a fun watch and an excellent gateway to the series or franchise as a whole.
Next Week “A Wolf is a Wolf,” or so new directors Miyazaki and Takahata say, “Everyone Meets Again” and reuses a bunch of footage from the short “Lupin III Pilot Movie.” The following week we’ll pair Masaaki’s final contribution to the series, “An Assassin Sings the Blues,” with an overview of the recent prequel series, The Woman Called Fujiko Mine.
Lupin III, by nature, is a cosmopolitan show. A lot of the original episodes don’t take place anywhere in particular—much of it could take place in Japan or Alpes-Maritimes and it wouldn’t make much difference, and when it does take place someplace semi-specific it’s an odd corner of Europe as often as Tokyo (probably more often). This extends to the lead duo themselves—Lupin’s treated as half-French, half-Japanese or just ethnically ambiguous, and Jigen is actually Japanese-American, which gets a rare mention in this episode. These are homages to the characters’ inspirations: Lupin III by Lupin I, and Jigen Daisuke by classic American tough gun-wielders, specifically James Coburn in The Magnificent Seven (and Kobayashi Kiyoshi, Jigen’s voice actor, also has an impressive repertoire in dubs of American films—Coburn himself, Lee Marvin, Sam Elliott, Jack Palance, and Clint Eastwood). They’re globalized characters inspired by a globalized media.
It’s not hard to pin Lupin III as a Japanese-made series, though. Last week’s “One Chance for a Prison Break” was suffused with references to Buddhism and revolved around Lupin’s need to right a dishonor. Were it written by a European or American “One Chance” might have turned out much the same story-wise, but the details and mood would have been totally different (and early Lupin works largely because of mood). Fujiko’s totally Japanese background is a result of her just being a generic girl-of-the-week in the original comics—she’s a step above background, but not really enough of her own person to have anything more than the default ethnicity, which for a Japanese author is Japanese.
Still, this wasn’t considered enough for the comics’ Japanese audiences, and the decision was made to add a character who couldn’t be anything but Japanese: Ishikawa Goemon XIII. Like Lupin and Zenigata, he has an ancestry fitting his procession—the original Ishikawa Goemon actually occurs in historical records as a thief, but eventually developed into a folkloric Robin Hood figure, an anti-authoritarian samurai. Goemon’s more immediate inspiration, though, parallels Jigen’s: Kyuzo from The Seven Samurai (down to Miyagazi Seiji’s face)
And Goemon XIII does not skimp on the samurai aspect—he appears in antiquated dress and only wields a sword. If one starts watching Lupin from somewhere else in the animated canon (like yours truly), his first appearance is something of a shock. And Lupin can’t help but treat him as a joke when he first appears—in his lowest-effort disguise yet (donning glasses and buttoning his jacket), Lupin can barely keep a straight face when talking to this absurd man, talking about swords and rejecting everything the West—the cosmopolitan outside world Lupin and Jigen come from—has to offer.
While Goemon proves himself a skilled martial artist, he is ultimately made the fool by the more modern men and women around him. Although the ages of the characters are indeterminate, there’s a real sense of youth and inexperience in Goemon. It’s compounded by the fact that it’s something of a studied inexperience—his sense of honor keeps Goemon from going the same distance as Fujiko (who comes out ahead of everyone), Jigen, or Lupin (who resolves the episode’s plot with the shot of a gun). But within the limits Goemon sets for himself there’s also an impetuousness and energy, particularly in the way he runs after and confronts Lupin, that gives the character a real charm.
It also makes Goemon an effective foil to the relaxed, technologically oriented Lupin. Lupin’s only answer to Goemon’s bullet-slicing swordplay is the use of an inflammable liquid (and so Masaaki’s Lupin’s pyromania resurfaces after a one-episode lull). Their duel’s one of the oddest, suspension-of-disbelief bending sequences yet—Goemon slices bullets in mid-air while Lupin and Goemon both end up on fire, fighting as drawings on a uniformly red flame. The outlined Lupin and Goemon have a sketchy energy to them, making it an interesting use of animation to take the show’s spy-fi to places live action couldn’t go.
The show uses its stretched-out suspension of disbelief to toy with the audience’s expectations, too. The episode’s true villain is Mamochi (whose name I can only assume translates to “Lord of the Fringe”), Goemon’s manipulative teacher. He initially claims that his designs on Goemon and Lupin aren’t personal—rather, an underworld organization used a supercomputer to analyze potential threats, identified Lupin and Goemon, and brainwashed Mamochi into doing their bidding.
Mamochi’s motivations end up being much more prosaic, but such a situation’s certainly not outside the realm of Lupin III’s sometimes Prisoner-esque sense of reality. The uncertainties of living in the present—how to choose between multiple, seemingly-equally-likely truth—might put us in sympathy with Goemon’s retreat from modernity. In a nice bit of foreshadowing Mamochi mistakes a radio announcer for a cooing Fujiko—who’s to know where human agency ends and the machines begin?
While the first four episodes are fairly plot-light, but for the first time we really have a twisty, multi-sided plot, which is fun but also lacks some of the breathing room of the earlier episodes (I might even say mu, another way in which Lupin III manages to be Japanese without always being obviously so). Despite all this interesting stuff, we’re starting to have feel the grip of something new to Lupin: formula. It’s not as evident on a first viewing, but many of the archetypical Lupin plot elements are falling into place. This is particularly obvious in the case of Fujiko: she plays one side, plays the other, is actually after a jewel or some other shiny material reward, and double-crosses everybody without dropping her mask. It’s not that interesting, and lacks the ambiguity (and heart) of her previous couple of appearances. At least she’s still getting the last laugh.
Stray Observations
• I’ve switched to last-name-first for these reviews. That’s largely a consequence of watching these subbed and everyone’s name sticking out in Japanese order, so it feels more natural for me to write “Daisuke Jigen” or “Mine Fujiko” than vice-versa.
• Fujiko’s Renault Alpine resurfaces. On my first watch-through I didn’t recall it recurring like Lupin’s wheels do, so I’ll have to watch out for it as the season progresses.
•I forgot to italicize the mention of The Prisoner the first time around.
Recommended
Yes.
6 Danger of a Rainy Afternoon
Lupin III is episodic. While Lupin evolves over the course of the show, it’s because of what happens off-screen—changes in staff, greater comfort in writing the character, etc.—not because Lupin’s shaped by his adventures. I don’t think as a rule episodic series are better or worse than serialized ones, just different. That means it needs to be reviewed with a different set of critical tools, too. “Danger of a Rainy Afternoon” is an accomplished episode, not because of anything it does in particular, but because it’s manages to be an ordinary adventure and a good episode. There’s no introduction of new characters, like in “Introducing Goemon XIII,” and there’s no sense that we’re going off-format like in “One Chance for a Prison Break.” This is a typical Lupin caper, and it’s satisfying without seeming terribly unique.
Lupin III still hasn’t quite settled into routine, at least as far as the opening sequence is concerned. There’s a different, jazzier instrumental theme at the beginning. Although Lupin’s narration remains the same, it sounds less boyish and playful against it. It’s an appropriate introduction for the episode. The opening direction’s also great—focusing on Lupin’s feet as he runs into his lodgings of the week, rain dripping down his pants legs. It’s a moody beginning perfect for a pulp adventure. Indeed, the episode’s full of nice little visual touches and scene setting, and while faster-paced than the first four episodes “Danger on a Rainy Afternoon” manages to marry some of their bucolic atmosphere with the faster-paced action.
Again, we’ve lost the early episode’s breathing room for a dense plot full of turns and betrayals. Drawn into investigating a catatonic mob boss by Fujiko (“Me? I’m just the maid”), it quickly becomes a between Lupin and Jigen’s impromptu gang to discover what Fujiko is hiding and get to it first. Although Zenigata appears in this episode, for most of the episode it’s more Lupin who’s playing the detective. We’re watching him piece together a set of underworld mysteries, the main difference being that he’s solving them for himself, not a broader concept of justice.
Lupin’s doubly thwarted in the end—Fujiko rebuffs him, out-maneuvers him and gets away with the prize. It’s hard to escape the conclusion that it’s Fujiko that’s the world’s greatest thief, not Lupin. Fujiko’s voice actor, Nikaido Yukiko, deserves a lot of the credit for Fujiko’s personality, adding a playfully facetious undertone to her faux-ditzy “I’m just the maid” line, and her tone of voice—triumphant but lighthearted—makes the conclusion of the episode seem obvious in retrospect.
There’s still a sense of this being part of a larger set of similar capers, though—we begin in media res, and by the end of the episode it turns out this was just one interlude in a larger chase. This makes it all the more odd that we only get this sort of story six episodes in, like suddenly switching to Danger Man after a marathon of The Prisoner. And this “typical” early episode Lupin episode is also an exception—it’s the only example of such a straightforward heist in the early run, and next week we’re already in the transitional period with to Masaaki, and Miyazaki and Takahata working contemporaneously. It’s a bit of a shame we only get such a well-built, accessible episode six episodes in—one wonders what would have happened if the show had led off with this.
Stray Observations
• Although the Lupin franchise is known for its continuity of voice actors, neither Nikaido Yukiko nor the first series’s Goemon (Ōtsuka Chikao) continue onward, and Japanese audiences know their second series voices, respectively Masuyama Eiko and Inoue Makio, better. I can’t hear much of a difference between either, honestly—while I might not like Masuyama’s performances as much, this is more a result of how unevenly Fujiko’s written than anything else.
• Based on the Citroën police cars and paddy wagon we’re definitely in France for this episode.
• Fujiko’s Alpine doesn’t resurface—whether the AC Ace (“I’m just a maid!”) she’s driving here is hers or her bosses isn’t said. Another, more workaday Renault does appear and is referred to in the dialogue, hilariously rendered in the subtitles as “Runo.”
Recommended?
Yes—it’s the most refined of the early run, with everything finally working like a well-oiled machine. That makes it a little less interesting to write about, but it’s a fun watch and an excellent gateway to the series or franchise as a whole.
Next Week “A Wolf is a Wolf,” or so new directors Miyazaki and Takahata say, “Everyone Meets Again” and reuses a bunch of footage from the short “Lupin III Pilot Movie.” The following week we’ll pair Masaaki’s final contribution to the series, “An Assassin Sings the Blues,” with an overview of the recent prequel series, The Woman Called Fujiko Mine.
