'Appleseed,' reportedly a landmark animated feature in its marrying of 2D animation and 3D landscapes, draws its syntax from more basic sources such as Hollywood cinema and MTV. As visually breathtaking as it often is, its style is very kinetic, hyperkinetic -- think Michael Bay on speed. I had very little idea what was happening during each action sequence, and resigned myself to waiting until afterward for some explanation or play-by-play via dialogue.
The movie opens with such a sequence. First, it surveys a devastated metropolitan landscape shrouded in the grey of night, calling to mind 'Blade Runner' (what post-apocalyptic film doesn't call to mind 'Blade Runner,' these days?), and before we can much admire the digitally shimmering detail of this environment, large machines and robo-warriors appear. Explosions ensue, and a female soldier called Deunan Knute, the kind of name that screams "Make me a trademark name," jumps into the action. I couldn't tell you in detail what happens, though, because I couldn't follow it.
What I do know, however, is that Deunan is knocked unconscious and whisked away to the utopian metropolis of Olympus, a sprawling crowd of skyscrapers and bridges recalling Lang's 'Metropolis,' Spielberg's 'A.I.' and the 'Weird Science' comics of the '50s. The city is populated by humans and bioroids, human-like creatures who are designed without the capacity for anger, envy and biological reproduction, intended to instill a 'balance' scientifically determined to prevent the human race from destroying itself. The city is run by two forces, basically: the human "regular army," and the bioroids. Overseeing everything is a large, incandescent sphere called "Gaia," informed by a band of elders whose dialogues with one another advise it of the proper path. The "regular army" is commanded by Uranas, who wants to rid Olympus of the bioroids and regain human control.
It sounds a lot like 'I, Robot,' and indeed, there's a lot of watered-down philosophizing borrowed from the more popular faces of 20th century philosophy and science fiction. The parallels to Greek mythology are heavy-handed and not nearly as edifying as they'd like to be. If the action sequences are extreme, so is the expository dialogue. Characters explain and explain, almost as though they're reading from the film's own Cliffs Notes. The American actors hired to dub the dialogue sound particularly flat.
The aesthetic qualities of the film are varied, but mostly with good results. 3D models were constructed for the film and photographed digitally, and sometimes this is striking (particularly the shots that are indistinguishable from actual footage, such as those of a hyperreal ocean), and other times, ugly and tarnished by digital artifacts such as aliasing (when diagonal lines appear pixelated and take on the shape of a staircase). The cel-shading is the most impressive quality, resulting in a remarkably fluid sense of light and shadows that is rarely seen in animated films.
The movie engages intermittently. I liked the daylit skyline and exterior details of Olympus, particularly the floating vehicles and the mirror-like causeways on which they travel. It's hard to care much about what happens on screen, though. Much of the movie plays like a non-interactive video game. The movie's technical innovation is rendered almost trivial by the creators' lack of imagination, sappy use of pop music and generally uninspired writing, yielding none of the resonance or wonder of recent triumphs of Japanese animation such as 'Spirited Away.'
The movie opens with such a sequence. First, it surveys a devastated metropolitan landscape shrouded in the grey of night, calling to mind 'Blade Runner' (what post-apocalyptic film doesn't call to mind 'Blade Runner,' these days?), and before we can much admire the digitally shimmering detail of this environment, large machines and robo-warriors appear. Explosions ensue, and a female soldier called Deunan Knute, the kind of name that screams "Make me a trademark name," jumps into the action. I couldn't tell you in detail what happens, though, because I couldn't follow it.
What I do know, however, is that Deunan is knocked unconscious and whisked away to the utopian metropolis of Olympus, a sprawling crowd of skyscrapers and bridges recalling Lang's 'Metropolis,' Spielberg's 'A.I.' and the 'Weird Science' comics of the '50s. The city is populated by humans and bioroids, human-like creatures who are designed without the capacity for anger, envy and biological reproduction, intended to instill a 'balance' scientifically determined to prevent the human race from destroying itself. The city is run by two forces, basically: the human "regular army," and the bioroids. Overseeing everything is a large, incandescent sphere called "Gaia," informed by a band of elders whose dialogues with one another advise it of the proper path. The "regular army" is commanded by Uranas, who wants to rid Olympus of the bioroids and regain human control.
It sounds a lot like 'I, Robot,' and indeed, there's a lot of watered-down philosophizing borrowed from the more popular faces of 20th century philosophy and science fiction. The parallels to Greek mythology are heavy-handed and not nearly as edifying as they'd like to be. If the action sequences are extreme, so is the expository dialogue. Characters explain and explain, almost as though they're reading from the film's own Cliffs Notes. The American actors hired to dub the dialogue sound particularly flat.
The aesthetic qualities of the film are varied, but mostly with good results. 3D models were constructed for the film and photographed digitally, and sometimes this is striking (particularly the shots that are indistinguishable from actual footage, such as those of a hyperreal ocean), and other times, ugly and tarnished by digital artifacts such as aliasing (when diagonal lines appear pixelated and take on the shape of a staircase). The cel-shading is the most impressive quality, resulting in a remarkably fluid sense of light and shadows that is rarely seen in animated films.
The movie engages intermittently. I liked the daylit skyline and exterior details of Olympus, particularly the floating vehicles and the mirror-like causeways on which they travel. It's hard to care much about what happens on screen, though. Much of the movie plays like a non-interactive video game. The movie's technical innovation is rendered almost trivial by the creators' lack of imagination, sappy use of pop music and generally uninspired writing, yielding none of the resonance or wonder of recent triumphs of Japanese animation such as 'Spirited Away.'