Lupin III Part III: Pink Jacket

Lupin III Part III

So, finally, we (nearly) complete our look at televised Lupin with 1984-85’s Lupin III Part III, also known as the “Pink Jacket” series. Of all the major Lupin series, this remains the most obscure. Its profile is probably the lowest in the anglophone world, in part due to a horrendous initial (fan?) sub. But it’s somewhat obscure in Japan, too—even in the nostalgic, reference-dropping Green vs. Red pink jacket Lupin barely gets a shout-out; perhaps the only other references to “Pink Jacket” comes in The Fuma Conspiracy, produced only a couple of years after Part III’s cancellation. Even in first run it was little seen, being largely a victim of sports preemptions (one of the few analyses of Pink Jacket, Ben Ettinger’s Anipages overview, is the source for most of the background info here). There’s plenty of examples of the obscure becoming widely-sought out, though, and takes about lost treasures aren’t hard to find. So, even in the small circle of anglophone Lupin fandom, why does Pink Jacket remain mostly ignored?

One reason’s almost certainly the jacket itself. The jacket was a compromise between animation supervisor Yuzo Aoki (whose work was initially one of the figures I organized theRed Jacket reviews around) and the The Powers That Be (studio, network, whoever—I don’t know for sure): Aozi wanted to go even more eighties with a white jacket, whereas TPTB, remembering the success of the Red Jacket series, didn’t want to change a successful formula. A creative-vs.-suits dynamic where the suits might have better taste does not bode well. The opening sequences reinforce this impression: the first is ostentatiously eighties, equal parts nonsense and excess (though it did grow on me, as did the ludicrous over the top opening theme, “Sexy Adventure”). The second’s outright jokey, with our rubbery cast making fairly uninspired sight gags, reminiscent of some of Aoki-helmed Red Jacket episodes (which I was not terribly fond of).


There’s also the shadow of Legend of the Gold of Babylon, which is associated with the Pink Jacket show in much the same way as Mamo is associated with Red and Cagliostro with Green—not just sharing the jacket color, but production staff as well and general look (this last isn’t quite true of the Red Jacket show and Mamo, which really is its own thing tonally and, apart from the jacket color, aesthetically, but they did share creative crews). Though not more accessible, Babylon certainly is shorter than the entire series, and it also does not leave a good impression. This is not entirely fair—Babylon’s story problems are all its own—but the production scramble around Babylon also seems to have caused a bit of a scramble on the Pink Jacket TV show.

BUT, but…neither of these first or indirect impressions is necessarily fair. The voices are all there, and settle right back into their roles without the least bit of fatigue. The music’s different—somehow the production company and Ohno—lost the rights to Part II’s iconic music—but the new tunes have a similar, feel, further easing you in, though they’re updated enough to let you know it’s the eighties (not a bad thing—it’s great instrumental pop, reminding me a bit of stuff out of Italy in the early-mid eighties). Initially quality of animation’s very improved from the average Part II episode, and design starts out at a very high standard as well: everyones a bit rounder, the eyes are a bit bigger, and the hair’s poofed out (it was the eighties, humid, or both), Lupin and Goemon have spouted squarish protruding chins, echoing Monkey Punch’s 1970s style. Indeed, the first clutch of episodes tend to be a bit harder-edged too, fitting a closer (though not that close—this series is cleaner than Part II on the net)-to-the-comics ethos.



Although there’s a dip around the time of Babylon’s production in the thirteenth episode, it’s more noticeable in terms of design than the animation itself. Even if the intent was to cope with staff shortages and deadlines related to the film, it looks more like conscious mannerism and less like the result of a shortage of animators, which can’t be said of Babylon (and going through a couple of these episodes frame by frame—the one below is from “The ghost of New York”—reveals how well they’re composed, even if they can look a bit awkward in motion).



That look only lasts for a few episodes though, and soon everything settles into a fairly standard Lupin look, although there are a few episodes that look perpetually off-model (sometimes purposefully, sometimes not). Despite that, it’s easy to get comfortable with the show’s looks. Throughout the series the color palette is bright, clear and pleasant, much like in previous outings but a bit more pastel-toned. And the pink jacket, as a jacket, is actually pretty great.

Indeed, the big surprise of Lupin III Part III is that it’s actually…good. Its running average is easily better than Part II’s, even. I was expecting to come away with something unexpected from Lupin III Part III, if only because it’s so poorly known, but I wasn’t expecting to enjoy it so much. This is just a series of classic comic adventures, typically well-paced, and often with just the right amount of sentiment (that slightly harder edge mentioned above one helped latch me in, too—even when they’re quite goofy there’s enough seriousness to keep one invested, at least on first watch).

The problem, though, is that “just.” While there are few dire lows (though there are a handful; the second-to-last episode stands out), the show also lacks the highs of Part II. Say what you will about the worst of Part I and a fair amount of the subpar episodes of Part II, but it was often interesting bad, either going out there and failing or being so of-its-time it’s good pop culture archaeology. When Part III is bad it’s hacky old Lupin clichés, little else (in this sense it looks ahead to the television specials). And the best episodes—“The Man Is Called the Death Garb” and the two-parter “Code Name Is Alaska Star”/“The Alaska Star Is a Ticket to Hell” jump to mind—are typically just good action plots well executed, nothing more. They might be among the best examples of a typical Lupin plot, but they are not the best of Lupin.

The show’s never really able to develop its own character, and it remains mostly what the network ordered: what worked last time, just more of it and newer. That is, until the finale, “Kill the Atomic Submarine Ivanov.” Everything is let loose here: Lupin causes an international crisis by stealing an atomic submarine, Fujiko becomes the focus of a bidding war between intelligence agencies, and finally they rendezvous to excavate a sunken galleon. It’s not much on paper, but it’s done with such verve, good humor (and it’s the rare Lupin installment in Amsterdam), and fleetness that it’s a joy to watch. It’s not the sort of pace that could have been realistically or consistently sustained over the series, but as a final hurrah (complete with a thank-you from the cast and staff at the end) it’s wonderful.



And indeed, this would be goodbye in a sense. This is the last “natural” Lupin series, burdened neither by thematic nor aesthetic self-reference or reverence. The music’s a good example of this—although Ohno’s still composing and there’s a similar character, the melodies are fresh and the sound is more modernized for the eighties, as opposed to later installments where the old Part II themes are redone again and again in retro style (I’m actually surprised Ohno hasn’t recycled and reshaped his music from Part III like he has with his scores from Part II and the first two films). The use of automobiles provides another example Lupin occasionally drives the old Fiat 500, he spends a Citroën Méhari, a Citroën 2CV-based mini-Jeep—a modest, contemporary, and common vehicle that makes sense in the same way the Fiats did in past series. And, appropriately, the Méhari was near the end of its production run.



Yet already by 1988 we reach back to the first series and Cagliostro with The Fuma Conspiracy (though incidentally it’s perhaps the only installment to have a prominent callback to Pink Jacket), and since the late 2000s Lupin specials and TV shows have been very explicitly nostalgic.

Although the original three Lupin series barely did continuity, with Goodbye Lady Liberty we truly entering the realm of soft reboots and cartoon time. To keep Lupin current he changes slightly from iteration to iteration, his methods, skills, and milieu changing with the times. 1984, though, is close enough to 1970 that this Lupin feels like the same the same man as in 1970. And it’s that familiarity that’s Pink Jacket’s greatest asset and Achilles heel.

Recommended? While it’s by no means the sort of show you’d want to binge, I easily found myself putting away two-three episodes a night and enjoyed it. It’s short, it’s relatively even, and better than its reputation deserves. It’s competent in both the positive and derogatory senses.

Stray observation
• In the finale the Fujiko and the CIA end up at a completely fictional high-rise hotel, which is a bit of a missed opportunity since the Hotel Okura Amsterdam is something of a landmark in Amsterdam’s Oud-Zuid.
• While there’s often a postcard/stereotyped quality to a lot of the locations, one place there isn’t is Santa Monica, of all places—oddly, the final sequence (which bears no connection at all to the series, and is very twee at that) takes place near the Santa Monica waterfront. Clearly someone in the animation department took a trip there, because I recognized Wilshire and Ocean Park subbing in for a few other locations throughout the series, too.



Next time I’ll give Lupin III Part V a look. From what I’ve seen so far, looks like it actually escapes the pitfalls of nostalgia or continuous soft rebooting outlined here, so I’m really looking forward to an enthusiastic write-up again. And since I’ve just started watching, I can also amend this to note that there’s a call-out to Pink Jacket in the opening of this one, too.