Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade
When we sacrifice our humanity to fear, rage, or misplaced loyalty, we become no better than beasts. Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade is an anime set in an alternate 1950s era Japan fraught with strife between its citizens and the government, and even between a fractured police force. Kazuki Fuse is a member of the "Capitol Police", and is outfitted with then cutting edge armor and weaponry designed to deal with domestic terrorism with extreme prejudice. After he hesitates to execute a young suicide bomber--referred to as a "Little Red Riding Hood" by the police for the cloak she wears--Kazuki is forced to accept just what his role is in the escalating violence around him.
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Despite being set in an alternate history, Jin-Roh plays more like a political thriller than science fiction, with intrigue and twists throughout. The film opens with a brief backdrop of the events that led to this recovering nation adopting a policy of aggressive policing in the aftermath of the atomic bomb. This Japan is ruled by a fascist government that is not only equipped to put down insurgent rebels like "The Sect" with superior firepower, but its police are compelled to do so by the despots in power. The armor and helmets worn by the Capitol Police--along with the gas masks and the imposing MG42 machine guns that they carry--evokes images from World War II of the notorious Dirlewanger Brigade, one made even more fearsome with the glowing red eyes of their night vision goggles. From the first time these dark figures march into the sewers to exterminate the terrorists, they act with a silent, ruthless efficiency, giving them a robotic quality not unlike The Terminator. Prior to their introduction into the plot, a fierce protest explodes on the city streets; but this pales compared to the raw brutality of what transpires below them when the Capitol Police show up. The self-serving rulers who command the segmented police forces view their detractors with a level of disdain that reveals just how petty and paranoid they are deep down. They are less motivated by a desire for justice to be done than simply to acquire an ever-increasing amount of power. When Kazuki confronts the young bomber in the sewers, he simply asks her "why" instead of firing on her, hoping to understand what would compel someone so young to sacrifice her life for such a cause. Because he hesitates, Kazuki is forced back into training as punishment--just so someone could be held "accountable" for the undesirable scandal that followed. He tries to cope with the trauma of the experience, but begins to understand just how it has fundamentally affected him after he crosses paths with Kei Amemiya--she identifies herself as the bomber's older sister, and also wears a red cloak. Kei does not appear to hold a grudge against Kazuki; rather, she seems to enjoy spending time with him. Her presence also appears to soften him, and offers a faint promise that he might put this dark violence behind him. But his commanding officer, Hajime Handa, is keeping a close eye on him, as well as his colleague, Atsushi Henmi; both of whom are so entrenched in the political quagmire of Japan that it is inevitable that they try to use Kazuki for their own ends. The tenuous loyalties and absence of trust--but especially the climactic encounter in the sewers near the end of Jin-Roh--recalls The Third Man, a film also set in a post-World War II city that has become a breeding ground for opportunists, political or otherwise.
Some anime has a reputation for being highly exaggerated or possessed of a nonsensical plot; neither is true for Jin-Roh. The animation is realistic as is the way that characters are modeled, to the point that it resembles rotoscoping. The gorgeous musical score by Hajime Mizoguchi is right up there with the best in any anime, alongside Akira, but it's real strength shines through in the way that it says more than exposition could. Take the scene where members of The Sect are about to be ambushed by the Capitol Police. Even though there should be no clue that this is about to transpire, the music literally sets the tone for such an encounter with music that inspires dread, and is shortly followed by silence. Backgrounds are convincing and credible, and this creates a tangible alternate reality for the audience, who are then transported to this dystopia that could have been. But enjoying Jin-Roh hardly requires any advanced knowledge of post-World War II Japan and its politics. The film is driven by the story of Kazuki and his crisis of conscience. Consider when Kazuki is being retrained; the scenes have almost no dialogue in them, which underscores his deep need to reevaluate his priorities, as if he were asking himself just what he's fighting for--even if this is never directly expressed. In this way, director Hiroyuki Okiura and writer Mamoru Oshii (who also wrote the source material for Jin-Roh) embrace a brand of pure cinema--letting the images and sound infuse the audience with an understanding of what would otherwise be difficult or impossible (or at least tiresome) to expound upon. Certainly each of us can relate to Kazuki's situation to some degree, to be confronted with the possibility that the cause you've been fighting for has been in vain--or worse, monstrous. Kazuki is aware of the attitudes toward The Sect that exist in the Japanese government, but tracks down the identity of the girl he didn't kill anyway, subsequently meeting Kei at her grave. Despite the presumed animosity that might be expected to manifest in such an encounter, Kei not only warms to Kazuki, but seems to reawaken his humanity. On the opposite end of the spectrum is Handa, who says "once a beast, always a beast" when describing Kazuki. As Kazuki's relationship with Kei flourishes, he has harrowing nightmares, imagining a pack of wolves ripping Kei apart and him gunning her down instead of her sister. Kei shares the story of "Little Red Riding Hood" with Kazuki--this grim interpretation depicts a young girl who seems especially dense to the warnings she receives about the wolf pretending to be her mother. This is a commentary on a nation that allows itself to embrace monsters disguised as leaders because they promise safety and security. The title of Jin-Roh is derived from combining the words for "man" and "wolf", and speaks to Kazuki's torn loyalties--to his country, right or wrong, or to his heart, constantly tested by betrayal.
Recommended for: Fans of a cautionary political thriller set in an alternate history about political corruption and the high cost on the human soul that comes from "just following orders". Jin-Roh is an animated masterpiece that isn't just a must see for anime fans, but for any audience mature enough to appreciate its perpetually relevant message and artistry.
Some anime has a reputation for being highly exaggerated or possessed of a nonsensical plot; neither is true for Jin-Roh. The animation is realistic as is the way that characters are modeled, to the point that it resembles rotoscoping. The gorgeous musical score by Hajime Mizoguchi is right up there with the best in any anime, alongside Akira, but it's real strength shines through in the way that it says more than exposition could. Take the scene where members of The Sect are about to be ambushed by the Capitol Police. Even though there should be no clue that this is about to transpire, the music literally sets the tone for such an encounter with music that inspires dread, and is shortly followed by silence. Backgrounds are convincing and credible, and this creates a tangible alternate reality for the audience, who are then transported to this dystopia that could have been. But enjoying Jin-Roh hardly requires any advanced knowledge of post-World War II Japan and its politics. The film is driven by the story of Kazuki and his crisis of conscience. Consider when Kazuki is being retrained; the scenes have almost no dialogue in them, which underscores his deep need to reevaluate his priorities, as if he were asking himself just what he's fighting for--even if this is never directly expressed. In this way, director Hiroyuki Okiura and writer Mamoru Oshii (who also wrote the source material for Jin-Roh) embrace a brand of pure cinema--letting the images and sound infuse the audience with an understanding of what would otherwise be difficult or impossible (or at least tiresome) to expound upon. Certainly each of us can relate to Kazuki's situation to some degree, to be confronted with the possibility that the cause you've been fighting for has been in vain--or worse, monstrous. Kazuki is aware of the attitudes toward The Sect that exist in the Japanese government, but tracks down the identity of the girl he didn't kill anyway, subsequently meeting Kei at her grave. Despite the presumed animosity that might be expected to manifest in such an encounter, Kei not only warms to Kazuki, but seems to reawaken his humanity. On the opposite end of the spectrum is Handa, who says "once a beast, always a beast" when describing Kazuki. As Kazuki's relationship with Kei flourishes, he has harrowing nightmares, imagining a pack of wolves ripping Kei apart and him gunning her down instead of her sister. Kei shares the story of "Little Red Riding Hood" with Kazuki--this grim interpretation depicts a young girl who seems especially dense to the warnings she receives about the wolf pretending to be her mother. This is a commentary on a nation that allows itself to embrace monsters disguised as leaders because they promise safety and security. The title of Jin-Roh is derived from combining the words for "man" and "wolf", and speaks to Kazuki's torn loyalties--to his country, right or wrong, or to his heart, constantly tested by betrayal.
Recommended for: Fans of a cautionary political thriller set in an alternate history about political corruption and the high cost on the human soul that comes from "just following orders". Jin-Roh is an animated masterpiece that isn't just a must see for anime fans, but for any audience mature enough to appreciate its perpetually relevant message and artistry.