Every once in awhile, on extremely rare occasion, I find that my opinion of a work is wrong. That I came at it the wrong way and judged it unfairly for what it was not, rather than what it was. This has happened like, maybe four times ever. Maybe. Cuz I'm usually awesome.
Anyway, when it happens, I like to come in and chew a chunk of myself off, because that's what you do when you're wrong. After my initial reaction to the work in question, I was tempted to write it off as intolerable and bad and not good at all. Like the times I was wrong about
Eureka Seven or
Hyouka, I do it because I find myself curious about the opinion gap.
So let's jump in on this.
Patlabor The Movie 2
I loved Patlabor, so I gave this another chance because I'd been "on the same page" as everyone right up till this movie. I
hated it the first time, and even now I'm tempted to rank it beneath the rest of my Patlabor experience. Instead, I've taken Jex's comments to heart and am treating it
separately. And honestly? It works pretty damn well that way.
The movie feels, in a way, a bit like a noir detective story. We follow our cynical Sam Spade through his black-and-white world of crime and corruption as he works the case. There's a beautiful woman with a secret and a connection to the crook. There's not much in the way of a Maltese Falcon, I guess, but there's plenty of shady leads to follow.
Of course, the film has its political commentary as well. It came out in the early 90s, which was a time of great political turmoil for the world. When the Soviet Union fell and the Cold War ended, the world was cast into quite a bit of doubt and confusion. That doubt and confusion is reflected in the film. Numerous scenes of the JGSDF blundering about situations as the villain employs jamming to set a fog around the city and make them feel the way he and the men who died on his mission felt fighting one of the many post Cold War cleanup battles.
Which makes sense. Tokyo stands as a symbol for all of Japan and really, the way the entire world felt in this era. If old Super Robot stories were a way to create new heroes and defenses for a Japan that had no army to defend itself at the height of the Cold War, then the Ingrams are hopelessly small tools to cut through the confusion of a terrifyingly large and suddenly empty world.
The feeling of emptiness is a present theme of the
Patlabor film trilogy. Each movie follows a similar pattern, as does the Longest Day arc of the OVA: a man forgotten by the world sends one last message to it that their machines are not perfect and that humankind is getting shoved aside despite that. In the first movie we have the mad scientist's Maverick Virus infecting the labors of the Babylon Project and threatening to level Tokyo. One of the most memorable scenes from the film is Matsui's investigation into the Doctor's life, during which he moves from one abandoned slum of a seemingly empty city to another. In this second movie, Arakawa and Gotoh have a conversation about the unused, hidden train station they're hiding in. Gotoh calls it a place that was forgotten and never meant to be found. The station is emblematic of the hollow feeling that the Japanese must have had when the height of their economic troubles was suddenly coupled with the living political nightmare that was the end of the Cold War.
The second film, despite being far more oppressive and serious in tone, actually reaches a more positive conclusion than the first. While the first film has the heroes barely manage to achieve the less-bad of the villain's no-win scenario, whereas the second film concludes with Tsuge, the movie's villain, remarking to himself that the city of Tokyo may yet have a future, set to the image of a sunrise.
The story revolves around four main characters. Five if, like Sonicmj, you include the City of Tokyo as a sort of silent character of the movie. These are Captain Gotoh Kiichi, Agent Arakawa Shigeki, Captain Shinobu Nagumo and Tsuge. There are other characters, but these four have the lion's share of the movie's screen time. They are arranged here into pairs. Gotoh and Arakawa and Shinobu and Tsuge. Arakawa hardly interacts with anyone other than Gotoh, and Tsuge has no major connections to anyone aside from Shinobu. The key link between the pairs is Shinobu and Gotoh's relationship.
Now, I'm still not the biggest fan of the fact that Shinobu and Gotoh never got together and that Gotoh seemed to given up on her because she was still hung up on a mass murderer, but let us set that aside. The film does offer a fair amount of insight into their relationship. Gotoh's feelings for Shinobu are an open book, given statements like "If it's a favor to you I can't refuse" and the sheer number of ways he puts himself on the line for her. Shinobu, however, has often been extremely guarded. In this movie we see why.
Her relationship with Tsuge ruined her life. Notice that in
all Patlabor materials, she has no close relationships. She has a curt relationship to her mother, and her friends from school she keeps at a distance from herself, refusing to spend time with them. Gomioka, her subordinate from the TV series, has never been any more than that. Her closest relationship is with Gotoh, and it that alone explains why she refuses to reciprocate his feelings.
Her affair with Tsuge landed her out on the puny island and relatively unknown position she holds there. Let's not pretend that the Special Vehicles is anything other than the Tokyo PD's dumping ground for talented
personalities. Gotoh is a tactical genius, but he's also a squirrely cynic with a penchant for giving no fucks about the rules. Asuma is the son of a trillionaire with a bad attitude and a tendency to crack wise. Ota is a loose cannon cop on the edge 900% of the time. Izumi is a talented pilot who is far too naive and sentimental. Hell, even Kanuka is speculated to be sent there because the NYPD couldn't handle her. So it makes sense that someone as capable as Shinobu who happens to have as sordid a connection a man with as bad a reputation as Tsuge would wind up there.
So that she should meet Gotoh, who, like Tsuge, was brilliant, older, and into her, is about as much of a stroke of bad luck as she could have. Shinobu maintains extremely professional relationships with everyone at the SV2 (despite the fact that literally no one else there takes their job so seriously. Not even Ota or Kumagami), but Gotoh she has to hold apart from her because any whiff of an involvement with him would put her back into that situation she was in with Tsuge and she justifiably will do everything she must to never go back to that. The pain of that fall out is an inextricable aspect of her character.
It also puts an exchange between Gotoh and Arakawa in a different light. At one point Arakawa reaches for a word to use to describe Shinobu's relationship to Gotoh. Gotoh supplies that she is his co-worker. Arakawa responds to this sarcastically, and Gotoh answers that HQ does not look kindly on fraternization between officers. In retrospect I'm no longer certain if this is Gotoh's excuse for not more actively pursuing Shinobu or if it's what he has concluded is the reason she goes out of her way to not return his affection.
For his part, Gotoh is the perfect protagonist for the story Oshii is telling. Cynical, older, observant and skeptical, Gotoh is a man who, despite his fondness for Shinobu and his team, is exceptional at divorcing himself from a situation and looking at it form every angle. As he works to unravel the spell of misdirection Tsuge has placed Tokyo under, Gotoh is confronted time and again by the hypocrisy of the government he serves. Arakawa is the perfect foil to him. A crooked public safety agent, Arakawa has many of the same tendencies to circumvent procedure and distaste for bureaucrats Gotoh does. His malcontent had lead him to ally with Tsuge early on, and so he becomes the possible end of the line Gotoh stands on at the same time that he serves as a man who is both similar to him in attitude and outlook and wildly different in the conclusions he has drawn from that shared pool.
The man of the hour, Tsuge, is clearly a charismatic man who once believed in both technology and the system. When we first see him he's young, his hair is dark, and he's on official business using official technology based on theories he proposed. When we meet him again at the film's mid-point, he's old, haggard, and working to destroy a system in which he was once a major player. At one point, Gotoh asks Arakawa who is going to judge the city. In a sense, Tsuge is attempting to be that man. He judges the whole thing one great big mirage, and after failing to persuade him that it isn't, Shinobu is left to wonder if she, herself, doesn't happen to be one to him, too. When he clasps back her hand, the pain in her face is evident.
I've said it before, but for completion's sake let me reiterate it:
Patlabor is an expert at the use of body language. All over the movie there are just amazing facial or posture cues that tell you how characters are feeling or what they're thinking. Arakawa's lazy eye is ingenious in that sense because it makes it harder to judge what he is thinking or how he is feeling.
This branches into the last point I want to bring up, which is the whole thing's visuals. In addition to those wonderful physical cues, the film has an astounding amount of detail in nearly every location and the mechanical animation is a true delight to behold. Most notable of all to me, though, was the film's use of color in the construction of its moods.
The first scene not withstanding, the movie begins with a bright and colorful series of scenes, beginning with Asuma and Noa goofing around like the two of them always do. Gotoh is introduced at sunset, and not long after we see Shinobu, whose first scenes are in dark rooms, sunset and then dusk. From there the movie's color palette becomes considerably more dull, even the ones during the day. There is no return to color until the conflict has ended, the sun has risen over Tokyo, and Gotoh smiles down on his cheering friends.
This same scene, which I previously took rather negatively, can be read another way. The way I suppose it rather obviously was meant to: whatever comes between Shinobu and Gotoh in the future, he still has his friends. They came when he needed them, from all over the place. Having families, moving up the ranks in the organization, getting transferred to other places, none of these things really changes the fact that they're friends. I'm sure Kanuka would've come, too, if she could have, but the pace at which things moved sort of precludes her from getting there without some kind of excessively fast plane (granted she totally would grab one, but still.) The point is that, just as Tokyo still has a future (and by extension Japan can still have a future despite its then present turmoil), Gotoh still has a future, too, with his friends.
In conclusion, I am sorry, I was wrong. It's not my favorite Patlabor movie. I still struggle on where to incorporate it into the rest of my experience with the franchise. But I don't hate it, and I see where the admiration comes from. It is an extremely well put together product, and a compelling story that is rich both in meaning to its central cast and the world as it was when it was written, if not to what I had assumed was the main cast of the entire series or the world as I had understood it based upon the rest of my experiences with the franchise.