Stagnation of the times calls for the rediscovery of Japan
“Dr. Sado, today’s Earth is more prosperous than ever. No, I would say that people are extremely materialistic. Did we save Earth to build a world like this? Is this what Captain Okita died for?”
At the beginning of Yamato 2, Susumu Kodai poses this question. If the Space Battleship Yamato is a reincarnation of the Battleship Yamato, then this can be easily pictured as an indictment of postwar Japan’s devotion to prosperity, forgetting the Japanese soldiers who died in World War II. Such is the argument of Mitsuru Yoshida, author of The Last Days of the Battleship Yamato. But is it really so?
It’s not always as direct as in Yamato 2, but this questioning of global society is an undercurrent of the series as a whole. We have already mentioned that Space Battleship Yamato (Part 1) is a tale of salvation from an apocalyptic situation. Of course, the message the series sends in response to this is not a reevaluation of the prewar period, it takes on more complex shades. Looking back at the historical situation of the 1970s, when Yamato was born, what was entrusted there? Let us conclude with this study.
In 1974, when Yamato was born, Japanese society as a whole was in a state of confusion. As mentioned in the introduction, the oil shock triggered a slump in Japan’s rapid economic growth. At this time, people began to focus on the many negative effects that had been hidden behind the shadow of economic prosperity: pollution and other forms of national exhaustion, materialistic lifestyles that lack spiritual fulfillment, and economic disparities hidden underneath. At the same time, people were anxious about the new phase of the times.
Drucker said, “The important thing is that knowledge has now become the central factor of production in an advanced and developed economy.” He described the present era as “the age of disconnection.” Galbraith pointed to the current of the times as “a new shift of power from capital to organized knowledge.”
(Takeshi Sato, The Age of Questioning Humanity, and Kenichi Takemura, The New Advertising Manifesto Revisited, Brain, May 1971).
In other words, this was an era in which information, not manufacturing, was taking over. In such an era, “accurate forecasting and planning are now the imperative.” This is the same emphasis on market research and analysis that we see today. In such an environment, everything is managed as information to forecast demand and measure effectiveness. The fulfillment of life is nothing more than an advertising effect. This is one aspect of a consumer society.
Against this backdrop, the times have produced two kinds of backlash. One is the nostalgia or reevaluation of the past represented by “Discover Japan.” In other words, “Japan’s counterattack.” The other is a tendency toward absurdity, such as occult and horror films.
The Seishi Yokomizo boom embodies these two elements. At the time, Yokomizo was regarded as an outmoded mystery writer. Haruki Kadokawa, president of Yokomizo’s publisher Kadokawa Shoten, was responsible for the reevaluation of his work. Kadokawa started a series of paperback collections, which was out of fashion, and made them bestsellers through the use of multimedia and movie adaptations. Why did he focus on this series? The following comment will give you an idea of his intention.
“If I’d made an issue of Japan a few years ago, I might have been considered a right-winger, but that trend has disappeared. When Kadokawa publishes old stories and Japanese folk tales, they sell very well. This is in line with Japan National Railways’ Discover Japan campaign. What I can say is that as urbanization progresses, the more inversely indigenous we become.”
(Kinejun magazine, late June 1980)
The first film in the series, The Inugami Clan (1976), was directed by Kon Ichikawa. The film depicts the beauty of old Japanese cityscapes and customs, and the the muddy absurdity that lurks in the undercurrent. The year is indicated as 1947 at the beginning of the film, and the camera moves from the entrance of an old mansion to the corridor, finding the deathbed scene of the head of an old family.
However, the Japanese scenery and beauty depicted here are expressions as seen through modern eyes. The chic, deep colors of the screen give a strong impression of a modern taste. The film’s bold staff credits, mimicked in Neon Genesis Evangelion, are the best example of classic Japanese beauty reinterpreted in a modern Japanese style, so to speak. In fact, this film may have seemed nostalgic for the older generation. For the younger generation, it is exotic and fresh. In other words, “exotic Japan.”
(See the trailer here. Watch the film with subtitles here.)
Yamato also avoids highly saturated colors, and instead uses dark, somber tones. The colors of the dark steel seemed to assimilate into the universe. This was a different aesthetic from the anime of the time, which emphasized saturated colors on a bright screen. In his book In Praise of Shadows (shown at right), Junichiro Tanizaki discusses the beauty of Japan. The dark tones of Yamato‘s first bridge may be a Japanese aesthetic that has passed through this modern era.
Furthermore, as we have discussed, Yamato was the latest space science-fiction of its time, but it included flashbacks to a traditional banquet scene at Susumu Kodai’s family home on the Miura Peninsula, and a wooden house with stacks of firewood in Yoshikazu Aihara’s hometown of Iwate. This coexistence of old and modern is full of exotic nostalgia and freshness. In this respect, it could be said that this work was born from the same spirit of the times as The Inugami Clan.
The point where Kadokawa Films and Yamato Intersect
I think there was something more than mere nostalgia in the desire for Japan at the time. It was a desire to overcome or transcend reality, which came from a sense of stagnation. One such desire was an excessive inclination toward absurdity. In the 1970s, Kenji Kanesaka was active as an ideologue of counter-culture, which explains the reason for the popularity of “occult” and “horror” films.
“In modern and contemporary history, the Christian God has been used to place man at the top of the hierarchy, above nature. This was all for the ‘development’ of human energy necessary for industrial civilization. What has now come back as black occultism is at least one form of expression for something that was shut out of our consciousness during this period.”
(Kenji Kanesaka, What is the Meaning of Occult Cinema in Modern Civilization? Kinejun magazine, early September 1977 issue)
Kanesaka’s point also applies to The Inugami Clan. The main character in the film is probably the man who dies at the beginning, Sahei Inugami, the founder of the big conglomerate Inugami Pharmaceuticals. At first glance, the murder of his daughter Matsuko Inugami seems far-fetched. Sahei’s flashback to the scene of her murder makes it seem as if the crime was a result of his curse. Sahei had a complicated relationship with a mistress, bringing wealth and ruin to many people at the same time. The absurd blood that flows through him leads his daughter to a bizarre murder.
On the other hand, coupled with the portrayal of Matsuko’s son as a victim of war, the story seems to tell us that Japan’s modern era itself was nothing more than a false pretense. Haruki Kadokawa also claims that the Inugami family is a descendant of the Ogami family, a divine tribe that existed long ago.
Kadokawa questioned the state of postwar Japan in the form of entertainment films. The Wild Age sounds a warning against political collusion and militarization. Proof of Humanity (above left) depicts the twists and turns of two countries through a Japanese man and his American counterpart. Sengoku Self-Defense Forces (above right) tackles the demons of postwar Japan head on. This may be Kadokawa’s own theme, but it may also stem from the fact that Japan was facing a crossroads in the 1970s.
The Inugami Clan is one antithesis, exposing what has been concealed by modern Japanese society. On the other hand, Yamato is a story of escape from the times, a tale of utopia. The film’s use of Japanese motifs to depict an escape from a doomsday situation appealed to a deeper level of awareness of the issue. In this sense, Kadokawa’s films and Yamato share the same awareness of the times, even if the forms of expression are different.
How anime tackled Japan: Hayao Miyazaki, Isao Takahata, and Yoshiyuki Tomino
Questioning the postwar era, and anti-modernity. These two themes were explored not only in Space Battleship Yamato. Other anime, for example, also tackled them with their own unique approaches. Here we will look at Hayao Miyazaki, Isao Takahata, and Yoshiyuki Tomino as representative examples.
At first glance, Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata’s masterpiece Heidi Girl of the Alps, which was broadcast in the same time slot as Yamato, appears to be just a benign TV anime for children. But when we group it with Miyazaki’s Future Boy Conan and Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, and Takahata’s Grave of the Fireflies, Omohide Poroporo, and Heisei Raccoon War Ponpoko, we can see a common message: the gentle criticism of civilization.
In Heidi, almost the entire story depicts Heidi’s innocence in the Alps wilderness and the children of nature who live there (think of Rousseau’s The Natural Man). She temporarily lives in the city, and becomes neurotic. To an innocent soul, urban civilization is evil.
The final episode ends with Clara being cured of her foot disease, which could never be healed in the city. There, man is dependent on the social system and is unable to exercise the autonomy of his own body.
Heidi is a story about the celebration of nature as opposed to civilization. The original story is said to have been a pious tale with strong religious overtones, but it is now strongly imbued with Alpinism and Rousseau’s conception of the natural man.
In this case, Miyazaki and Takahata used the foreign motif of the Alps to create the story. Later, Japan emerged as an extension of this in Miyazaki’s My Neighbor Totoro and Takahata’s Grave of the Fireflies, which were shown simultaneously in 1988. Anime has always been cosmopolitan in its depiction of physicality, but it seems that Miyazaki and Takahata also needed a certain transition in order to deal with the theme of Japan.
As we saw in Chapter 4, Takahata incorporated postwar criticism into Grave of the Fireflies. Heisei Raccoon War Ponpoko takes a more explicit form, using the indigenous raccoon dog as the protagonist against humans. When their resistance movement results in human casualties, they make a token expression of condolence and then laugh with joy, which is both venomous and outstanding.
The same is true of Yoshiyuki Tomino. Mobile Suit Gundam (1979) contains a critique of modernity and postwar Japan, which I mentioned in Chapter 5. In his Byston Well series (anime Aura Battler Dunbine and novel/anime Wings of Rean), Japan appears at the core. Byston Well is an alternate world created by the power of human thought, a spiritual world where people’s souls go to be reborn after they die on Earth. It is inhabited by monsters, and the society resembles that of medieval Europe. People are free to do good or evil, and they liberate their souls by living according to their sensibilities and passions. This is an antithesis to the domination of life by modern society in the form of management.
In the novel Wings of Rean (first published in 1984 by Kadokawa Shoten), Japanese kamikaze pilot Shinjiro Sakomizu is sent to Byston Well on the verge of death. There, he lives a life that liberates his soul. He gradually awakens to a consciousness that objectifies Japan, which is steeped in militarism.
In the anime created in 2005 and the subsequent revised novel, significant changes were made. The story takes the form of a sequel to the original novel, in which Sakomizu is consumed by the idea of the “devilish U.S.A.” and (upon learning of the history that followed) burns with hatred for America, the country that defeated Japan. His anger is also directed at modern Japan, which has become a vassal state of America and a captive of its consumer culture.
In Byston Well, machines are powered by aura, a biological energy. When this aura appears on Earth, it exerts tremendous power. With his aura-powered Aura Battler (robot) and aerial battleships, he drives out the U.S. military to rebuild Japan into the country he wants it to be. He is aided by anti-American terrorists and youths who have been oppressed in modern Japan. The story is quite extreme, as he destroys Tokyo to “stop consumer culture.”
The protagonist in the anime is Asap Suzuki, a Japanese-American who was discriminated against. He has a more moderate sensibility and is the one who wins the battle. He may also be a symbol of postwar Japan. Asap is surprised by Sakomizu’s hubris, criticizing him by saying, “You’re the same as the Japanese army of the Showa era,” and challenges him in battle.
The fact that Sakomizu was able to get out of Byston Well can be read as a warning to present day Japan. It is a common practice in Tomino’s works to entrust the enemy with more than three minutes of reasoning and an alarming thought.
The top creators of anime began to use Japan as a subject because their awareness of issues such as anti-modernity and questioning the postwar period became clear. They also sought a reality and persuasiveness that was not a fantasy or a fairy tale. The Battleship Yamato was revitalized and turned into a space battleship, playing a pioneering role in this trend of expression.
Yamato was the first anime to clearly express the motif of Japan in an extraordinary setting, such as a science fiction anime, rather than in an everyday setting like Sazae-san. This is largely due to the efforts of Leiji Matsumoto. The long-bodied, short-legged middle-aged Dr. Sado was a shocking figure, but there was a certain reality living in him that had never been seen in anime before.
Zainichi and Sandel: two issues that urge rethinking the community
Since World War II, the issues of Japan and ethnicity have been an Achilles heel of the Japanese people, and it is generally believed that a head-on discussion has been avoided. However, this does not seem to be the case.
According to Eiji Oguma’s Democracy and Patriotism (shown at left, Shinyosha, 2002), the leftist movement in the immediate postwar period had as one of its banners the ethnicity of the people. To defeat Imperial Japan and America, revolution for the true independence of the nation was, up to a certain point, the mainstream consciousness of the movement. However, as society became more stable and prosperous, many people began to seek improvements based on stability rather than revolution.
The vivid memories of the past were sealed away. Despite their vow of non-war, they forgot the memories of the continent and peninsula where their own hands were stained with blood. This was unilateral pacifism. Another race of people was made visible when placed in opposition to Korea and Zainichi (Koreans living in Japan). And from the viewpoint of Zainichi, a different face appears even if the ideas for Japan are liberal ones.
“When we criticize Japan as others, those who are willing to accept the criticism as Japanese are more likely to be those who advocate official nationalism. In response to our criticism of Japan, many of those who deny official nationalism say ‘I’m not Japanese’ or ‘Don’t label me as Japanese.’ In short, they are just trying to get us to accept their criticisms. I have experienced such things since I was young.”
(Xu Jinshi, From the Position of a Semi-Refugee, Kagei Shobo, 2002. Shown below left)
Accepting responsibility cannot be discussed without the existence of the subject. However, he is negative about the subject of ethnicity. This is probably because he positions himself in the line of escape from ethnicity and nation.
Kenji Yun, who is also a Zainichi, has a very different tone. He says, “It is difficult to understand why thinking about ethnic awareness as a Japanese person is the same as fixating on ethnic conflicts. Isn’t it possible to overcome nationalism by debating within that nationalism? Isn’t this the path that leads to an open nationalism, to the coexistence of the self and the other?”
(Yun Kenji, Thinking about Zainichi, Heibonsha, 2001. Shown below right.)
We can also consider this issue from a completely different angle. The thought that one is not responsible for the wrongdoings of previous generations comes from the idea that actions can only come from individuals with perfect independent will and freedom. This is the same logic as the “self-responsibility” expressed by former Prime Minister Koizumi.
American political philosopher Michael Sandel calls this moral individualism. If we are only responsible for our own actions, then the holocaust, the Nanking Massacre in China, and the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki by the US military are morally irrelevant to the next generation, even if they serve as lessons for future generations.
But how can the individual exist in the first place, completely detached from the community? Herein lies the key to solving this problem.
“This cannot be explained in contractual terms. Unlike natural obligations, the duties of solidarity are individual, not universal. This includes our moral responsibility. This responsibility is not to rational human beings themselves, but to people with whom we share a certain history. But unlike voluntary responsibilities, Such responsibility is not based on an act of consent. The source of their moral weight is moral reflection on the positional self, and the recognition that the story of my life is related to the story of others.”
(Michael Sandel, Justice: What’s the Right Thing do Do?, Hayakawa Shobo, 2010. Shown below left.)
From this also comes the idea of a common good that can be shared by a community. However, this common good must not fall into a hegemonic ideology. Universal criteria are needed. The current popularity of Sandel’s ideas on community may be a result of the same currents that revived Yamato in this era.
What the Reevaluation of Mura Means: Shiro Morita
This is a story about a traditional Japanese community that was considered “outdated” after the period of high economic growth. In 1973, Shiro Morita advocated its reconsideration in Small Buraku (shown above right, later retitled The Japanese Village in 2003).
This book depicted the virtues of the village community, which were considered to be hereditary, and vilified the capitalization of agriculture and the destruction of communities.
“Majority rule is meaningless. If a decision is made because the majority has the advantage in a tribe, the loss incurred by the minority will be too great. This will result in a huge difference in the way of life and production. Does this mean that the tribe’s breathing will be disturbed? What the tribe promises is not the maximum happiness of the greatest number, but the medium happiness of all. The tribe is undemocratic. I would like to call it a new democracy.”
(from The Japanese Village)
What does this mean in the context of rural reality?
A farmer who rejects the old customs says, “As long as the tribe holds these meetings and follows them accordingly, the tribe is peaceful and will not collapse. But sir, from my point of view, that’s a problem.”
“…?”
“If the tribe is not shaken up, no one will fall and no one will leave.”
“Isn’t that good?”
“If that is the case, there is no way to expand the size of the tribe.”
Morita was able to accurately foresee where the transformation of farming villages that was taking place at the time would end. As of 2010, agriculture was raising its commodity value in order to survive and compete under global capitalism.
However, that is only the point of view of the survival of the industry. To support rural livelihoods, it lacks the perspective that only the wealthy can afford expensive food products. The result of a “one-size-fits-all” agricultural business is to cut off the losers and the weak.
Here, we can recall the following words of Susumu Kodai: “If there are winners, there are losers. What happens to the losers?”
From the standpoint of a farmer, Morita disagreed with people being incorporated into advanced capitalism. This awareness of the times can also be seen in Susumu Kodai’s line. As we saw in Chapter 6, the approach he took in becoming acting captain and commanding the ship was one of equal partnership. He talked to Shiro Sanada, Daisuke Shima, and the others, and made the most of their individual talents. With the understanding of those around him, he moved into action. Here we can also see a glimpse of what Morita called the “new democracy” of village councils.
In recent years, as studies of village social history have progressed, the feudal image has been reconsidered. The same is true for customs. Yoshiharu Nakamura points out that the infamous village ostracism was a phenomenon that occurred after the Meiji period (1868-1912), when the traditional community began to disintegrate due to the establishment of a private land ownership system.
Setsu Uchiyama points out that the funeral rites of the common people are mainly wind burial. The grave system, which is divided by family, was born from the restructuring of the family system after the Meiji period. He talks about the concept of social reform in this era:
“Self-government includes the spiritual world of the area called the village. Looking back on Japan’s past, it seems that there is actually no other base of resistance.”
(Setsu Uchiyama, Rural Culture Movement No. 186, special feature: Mura’s Idea and Local Autonomy, Rural Culture Association, 2007)
The old community, once lumped together in the form of Japan, had many possibilities. The issues raised by Shiro Morita have not faded away.
World Expo = NO to progress: underground art uses nudity as a weapon
“XXX days left until the World Expo.”
The Osaka Expo (1970), with its theme of “Progress and Harmony for Mankind,” had the character of an achievement in high economic growth. At the same time, the spectacle was interwoven with the industrial control and management of information. It served as a bridge to the coming consumer and information society.
In major Japanese cities, the countdown to the Osaka Expo was underway, filling the entire society with expectations for a bright future. Four years later, the catchphrase, “Only XXX more days until the destruction of the earth,” was created to overturn the rose-colored image of the future.
In the field of art, there was an expression that boldly resisted the Osaka Expo, a coalition to destroy it.
Many artists participated in the Osaka Expo, including Taro Okamoto, Jiro Takamatsu, Katsuhiro Yamaguchi, and the Gutai Art Association. They were representative of the art scene of the time, considered avant-garde. By participating in the Expo, they showed the world that avant-garde was progress.
On the other hand, the expression of the Expo ’70 destruction coalition was also called avant-garde. But their method of expression was the opposite of sophistication. They had only one weapon: their own naked bodies, stripped of the trappings of civilization.
This was the work of 2-time candidate for Tokyo Governor Yutoku Taishi Akiyama, 8 generation, Vitamin Art, Group Spider, Shun Mizukami, Takamai Sakurai, and other “beautiful stars” of the underground art scene at the time. At the center of the group was Zero Dimension, a representative of nude expression.
Formed around 1960, Zero Dimension was a group originally led by Kotaro Kawaguchi. When Yoshihiro Kato joined the group in 1962, it rapidly became more radical. (Kawaguchi left the group because of this change of course.) They presented their works not in art galleries but with eccentric behavior on the streets, dragging themselves across the ground, and marching around naked.
They focused on the drug & counter-culture movement in America, resonating with the hippies. By incorporating the earthly sensibility of Japan into the essence, the movement was reorganized. In other words, their nudity and physical expression were intended to confront the fundamental and reactionary mentality of the masses.
They called their actions rituals, or, as Kenji Kanesaka put it, the mystical energy of “black occultism,” the anti-modernity of religion and old custom. The rituals were spiritually similar to dark butoh, which shares the same language. They decided to hold this ritual once a month, describing it as “a regular monthly sprinkling of blood, like a woman’s menses.” They described the act as “raping the city.”
Their obscene and barbaric language/activities can be interpreted in many ways, but here I would like to point out the anti-management element. Zero-Dimension acts can be seen in films, such as Toshio Matsumoto’s Funeral Parade of Roses (1969) and Sadao Nakajima’s Nippon ’69 Sex Bizarre Zone (1969).
The Expo ’70 destruction coalition began their activities in 1969. They traveled to 46 locations throughout Japan, including various university campuses, to perform a “nude ceremony.” Their activities at Kyoto University were widely reported in Asahi Graph and caused a stir.
Zero Dimension, which played an active role as a core member of
the Expo ’70 destruction coalition. “Naked, gas-masked
walking ritual.” (December 9, 1967, Shinjuku, Tokyo –
in front of Kinokuniya bookstore, photo by Kenji Kanasaka)
Around this time, apart from the critics and artists of the Osaka Expo, a decent number of other critics and artists voted against it. The reasons for their opposition varied. There were fears of disturbing the Japan-U.S. Security Treaty (automatically renewed in 1970), a national mobilization system, the autonomy of the arts, questioning ambiguous intentions, and so on.
“The 1970 Osaka Expo was an attempt to brainwash the heads of Japan and Asia with Western Christianity and masculinity. It was an attempt to enslave us all in a consumer society.”
(Art Terrorism and Shamanism, Dōshaku Kikaku, 2010)
In later years, Yoshihiro Kato of Zero Dimension summed up the Expo in this way and formed the Expo destruction coalition as an action to oppose it. He did so by “submitting an intelligent, hare-brained revolution to the Expo, a miraculous place where uncontrollable power marches in lockstep with global change”.
(Expo ’70 Anti-Madness Fair, What is the Expo for Us? Tabata Shoten, 1969)
The Expo destruction coalition suffered many arrests and came to an end in 1970.
It should be noted that the Expo ’70 destruction coalition also visited Sanrizuka. This is not just a land acquisition issue at Narita Airport, it is also a microcosm of Japan’s modern and contemporary problems. This area of Chiba (Hokuso) has a lot of farmland that has been developed throughout modern times. As seen in the documentary film Kusadori Soshi (1985, dir. Katsuhiko Fukuda, shown below left), some people were repatriated from Manchuria and settled in the area after the war.
This forced expropriation of land embodies the structure of modern and contemporary nations that invade other countries for the convenience of the state, destroy nature, and create “diaspora” (abandoned people). On the other hand, Sanrizuka also started organic farming and direct sales early on. It was, so to speak, a pioneer of the modern slow life.
Leaving aside the struggles of political factions, Sanrizuka is a place where various values of the past and the future collide. An oudoor festival called ’71 Japan Genno Festival at Sanrizuka was held from August 14 to 16, 1971 by the Youth Action Team of the Sanrizuka-Shibayama Airport Opposition Alliance. The festival featured the performances of Brain Police, Blues Creation, Lost Arraf (Keiji Haino), J.A. Caesar, and others.
The most cutting-edge musicians of the time participated. Their live performances filled the atmosphere with tension, far removed from the warmth often associated with outdoor festivals. The tingling air that pervaded the entire event signified a break with commercialism, even though it took the form of an outdoor festival.
This could be seen from the participation of Zero Dimension, whose “nude expression” was the very embodiment of an uncontrolled festival. The scene can be seen in the DVD Japan Genno Festival, Sanrizuka (Director: Kenji Aoike), which accompanies the live CD Genno. (Hear it here.)
If you limit your focus to the Osaka Expo, you will only be impressed by the spectacle strategy of the nation. However, by connecting this with Sanrizuka, the true situation of Japan at that time comes into focus. The era had taken away the bases of labor and livelihood rooted in the land and traditions, giving birth to a major wave that was reconfiguring people’s lives to conform to a consumer culture and a controlled society.
Zero Dimension’s expression was a battle against the great swell of the times. These days, Kato shouts, “Take back our Japan!” This is not the Japan of today’s nationalists, but the Japan of a time far back in the modern era, when life still shone brightly. At the core of that expression, there is a naked body stripped of pretense.
The ground will flow with green
A delicate flower will bloom in the sun
A hundred years from now
We become what we dream
Beautiful in our nakedness
All people will know love
Until The Day of Love, theme song from Be Forever Yamato)
Juro Kara, the wild body that shook postwar ambivalence
Another notable physical expression of the time was Juro Kara’s Situation Theater. This pioneer of underground theater is a figure who, like Shuji Terayama, clearly advocated anti-modernism. Terayama advocated for the earthiness of the Tohoku region, but his means of expression was written compositions. The bodies and pre-modern customs of Situation Theater’s actors were well-suited to fit within the framework of surrealism. In contrast, Juro Kara, who advocates for beggars on riverbanks, was openly aggressive with a sense of the macabre.
Among the visual materials of the Situation Theatre, there is Nagisa Oshima’s film, Shinjuku Thieves’ Diary (1969), featuring the actor Tang. (Incidentally, Tang was in Nippon ’69 Sex Bizarre Zone, in which Zero Dimension also appeared.) Here, you can see a performance as a Kawahara beggar that partly followed his Kabuki style, though it is hardly sophisticated, However, the charm of the rough-hewn body and the dazzling wildness of the performance make the audience forget its shortcomings and it draws the viewer in.
Let’s take a look at Tang’s theory of theater.
“If there is such a thing as dramatic imagination, it is probably the law of the author or the rhythm within each actor. It is a dramatic force that desires to nullify reality prior to the formation of the vessel of expression. Therefore, when this power is multiplied through the actions of those involved in the creation of a piece, this power is manifested as the privileged body of the actor or the stage.”
“An actor never serves the artist or the work with his body, but always steals the work as a means of his own survival.”
(Juro Kara, Privileged Bodily Theory, Hakusuisha, 1997, first published in 1968. Shown below left.)
How do you set up a situation in which the privileged body appears? This was the focus of his early plays. Tang dared to use the taboos of postwar Japan, such as Manchuria and Korea, as the setting. In Vampire Princess, the continental ronin Kawashima Naniwa says, “If you go beyond the Ueno Forest, it becomes an ocean that connects the continent and Japan. The sound of the zoo lion’s voice echoing through the Ueno forest is the splashing of the ocean. All of you are moving to the Ueno forest because you are trying to cross that ocean. You’re trying to save it without knowing a single thing about it.”
(Juro Karo’s Works, Volume 2: Drama II, Fuyukisha, 1979. Shown above right.)
The animals of the Ueno Zoo are likened to the bestiality of prewar Japanese imperialism. Tang’s skill in creating a dazzling vision in the darkness of the forest is nothing short of brilliant. Tang has said of the play, which was staged in 1971, “I wanted to pull out the ‘dangerous aesthetics’ that had been aborted and tabooed in postwar democracy.”
(Asahi Shimbun, March 30, 1971)
Some saw a “reactionary” stance in him, but was that really the case? Such pretty words as “friendship” and “peace” mask the dark memories and sentiments that lurk within the masses, which will not disappear. This nightmarish desire is exposed to the light of day, deconstructed at the very last moment. Herein lies the strategy of his orientation toward “popularity” under the guise of a Kawahara Beggar.
Tang also directed the film Ninkyo Gaiden Genkaitan (1976), the story of a Japanese man who traveled to Korea during the Korean War, where he raped and killed. Although the story is broken in its structure, the physicality embodies the nightmare beautifully. Noboru Ando’s body oozes with the scent of past crimes, played by actor Kazumasa Komatsu.
The resentment of Koreans who sacrifice their daughters leaves a strong impression on the viewer. Tang refused to perform in Europe, even though he had received offers to do so. He dared to perform in Korea, Bangladesh, Palestine, and other third world countries without any public support. By placing actors in the midst of social contradictions, what kind of privileged body and theater would emerge?
This was his aim. How can the Japanese people face Asia while carrying a negative historical legacy? It must have been his own search for the possibility of that dialogue.
As mentioned in Chapter 2, screenwriter Keisuke Fujikawa imbued Space Battleship Yamato with a “feeling of rebellion against the times” as described in Chapter 2. He describes the core of the story as “wildness.”
“Once I answered a questionnaire about Yamato. There I said that Yamato to me was a representation of wildness. I define wildness as solitude, romanticism, definitude, action, and courage. To live wildly is my personal goal. I think that to keep wildness in your heart is to have eternal youth.”
(Yamato 2 Roman Album, Tokuma Shoten, 1980. Read the entire essay here)
Yamato’s journey to Iscandar was an exodus that was in sync with the anti-management mood of the time. Recall also the title of the Kadokawa film, Proof of Wildness. This film shakes up the peace of the postwar era by bringing to life the dazzling nightmare of the war years. The expressions of Zero Dimension and Juro Kara, while different in phase, shared a sense of the times with Yamato, which is an expression of wildness. Thus, the raging bodies of Zero Dimension and Juro Kara are deeply connected to Yamato.
The meaning of Yamato‘s emphasis of humanity = physicality
In the context of the socio-economic art scene of the 1970s, the meaning of Space Battleship Yamato becomes clear.
To begin with, the Yamato project was not conceived with the Battleship Yamato in mind. The third Yamato planning document describes the Steam Locomotive boom of the time as follows: “We found ‘humanity’ in the form of the Steam Locomotive, which we tended to forget in the era of economic growth. This has become a social trend that is transforming people’s sense of beauty.”
(Space Battleship Yamato Perfect Manual 1, Tokuma Shoten, 1983)
This was the basis of the project, but the motif of the work was a warship, not a Steam Locomotive. Why the Battleship Yamato rather than the steam locomotive of Galaxy Express? It was something beyond the everyday, a searching for vividness that stimulates people’s memories.
Juro Kara’s works tackled taboos in postwar Japan, such as the Manchurian ronin and the Zainichi Koreans, and stimulated people’s imaginations, inviting them to visit utopia. The story of Yamato seems to have had a similar meaning. What kind of utopia did Yamato transform the prewar nightmare into?
The “humanity” theme presented in the proposal was mostly carried out by Shiro Sanada. In Episode 18, he says, “I hate the arrogance of science. Machines kill humans. Is that a benefit? Science serves the happiness of human beings, and human beings are above science.”
This message of “humanity” is continued in the sequel. In the second episode of Yamato 2, Sanada criticizes the newly built battleship Andromeda, which differs from Yamato in that most of the ship’s systems, not just fire control, are automated.
“The brass are under the illusion that Yamato‘s victory was a triumph of mechanical power, and the result is this ship, a lifeless mechanisms without a drop of blood passing through it. Andromeda is the Earth itself. We can’t beat the enemy with this ship.”
Soon after, the command center orders the old Yamato to be converted to an automated ship, just like Andromeda. Susumu Kodai stubbornly refuses.
“Yamato is a ship that can only be operated by human hands. I don’t want a bloodless ship like that. Commander, are you sure you want to remove the human soul from Yamato? Do you think that would please Captain Okita in his grave?”
At the beginning of Be Forever, Daisuke Shima is on a mission to intercept the attacking fleet of the Dark Nebula Empire, but he is outwitted and his automated ships are destroyed without a second thought.
“The unmanned fleet’s weakness was exploited,” he says in frustration. “If only I had been on board…”
Is this argument against unmanned fleets just an argument about weapons systems? The Yamato of Yamato 2 managed to avoid automation. The range of the main guns was greatly extended by an upgrade. The effectiveness of the weapon was proven in the form of one-sided destruction of the enemy before they could get close enough. The ship’s crew was excited by this accomplishment. However, Sanada’s expression was mixed. “I never wanted the day to come when these things would be useful” (Episode 6).
The progress of civilization, as measured by the modernization of machines, is not something that will ultimately eliminate war. His statement seems to be a lament.
In the radio drama of Part 1, Captain Okita says, “Yamato is a machine. It is human beings who move it. It is the human being that determines success or failure.”
However, even without quoting such messages, the importance of the presence of people is built into the visual expression of Yamato. The key figure is Daisuke Shima, head of the navigation team.
“Atmospheric Navigation Main Wing Deployment.”
“Retract main wings.”
“Wave Engine to upper atmosphere output.”
He recites maneuvering procedures in detail, sometimes using a lever to control the ship. In such sequences, Hideo Nakamura’s voice has a sense of stability, in contrast to Kei Tomiyama’s voice as Susumu Kodai. Mitsuru Kashiwabara’s sound effects are used to bring flesh and blood to these scenes. Yamato‘s maneuvers, such as turning, decelerating, and accelerating, are depicted through Daisuke Shima’s physical form, so to speak. It is Daisuke Shima’s breath that makes Yamato move.
This kind of direction gives the impression that Yamato is a human ship. Shima plays an important role in reinforcing the concept of the black iron warship.
In many science fiction works, ship maneuvering is often a simple action or is omitted, For example, in Star Trek, the ship is controlled by something like a knob on a mixing console. Another important feature of Yamato is that the ship is operated by (sometimes multiple) operations that emphasize physical movement, such as the lever and the control stick.
What do underground art and Yamato have in common?
Yamato‘s physicality is not gentle to the touch, but more rough. Yamato‘s operations and actions are throughout the series, and are characterized by what could be described as brute force.
In Part 1, Episode 11, Yamato is surrounded by Dessler mines, and manpower is used to clear them out. This is a tactic that goes against Gamilas’s assumption that only machines would be used to eliminate the mines. Dessler calls this “the simple wisdom of the barbarians.” Here, Yamato is shown to be an entity that cannot be governed by science.
In the battle on the planet Gamilas, Yamato plunges into a sea of concentrated sulfuric acid to escape an attack from above. The volcanic activity ignited by the Wave-Motion Gun causes Yamato to emerge from the magma sea with huge scars. In addition, the ship is damaged by a missile flying in from above, but it aims for the enemy headquarters, Dessler’s Office.
In Farewell and Yamato 2, all of the weapons are disabled, so the ship charges at Dessler with a small warp. When the ship is forced to come alongside, it engages in a hand-to-hand combat. This fighting style is rather similar to that of pirates of old.
In Be Forever, Yamato smashes through obstacles with its own body to close in on an artificial city inside a hostile planet. The Dark Nebulans in this film are a race of people whose bodies have degenerated due to the adverse effects of scientific civilization. They invaded the Earth in search of healthy bodies. Here, the savagery of Earthlings and Yamato is emphasized in contrast to the scientific civilization.
In Final Yamato, Yamato‘s savagery is especially noticeable because of the story’s flaws. Shiro Sanada devotes himself to finding a way to counter the Dengil Empire’s deadly hyper-radioactive missile. In the middle of the story, a horde of enemies attacks and Yamato‘s fate is on the brink, His development is just in time.
“Captain, the defense device for the hyper-radiation missile has been completed.”
“Sanada-san, what about a test?” asks the anxious Kodai.
“We don’t have time for that!”
With his hyper-radiation missiles disabled, Dengil commander Lugal de Zahl uses the asteroids scattered around the ship as a shield to drive Yamato into a corner. In the midst of this, Captain Okita issues a desperate order: “Prepare to fire the Wave-Motion Gun!”
“Captain, there’s an asteroid field ahead.”
“I don’t care. Smash the whole planet!”
The power of the Wave Gun turns the asteroids around the fleet into a hail of bullets. Lugal’s fleet is dragged down by its own calculations.
“I can’t believe this,” Lugal says. He probably wants to say, “Outrageous!”
After vanquishing the enemy fleet, Yamato is confronted by the city satellite Uruk. Which uses its powerful neutrino beams to create a barrier, and then fire a powerful neutrino beam at Yamato. The ship is unable to evade, and falls into a desperate situation. However, the Wave Energy leaking around Yamato from the previous battle has the effect of stopping the neutrino beam, so Yamato is able to avoid the danger.
Realizing this, Captain Okita orders an astonishing maneuver: “All right, turn 180 degrees while energy is leaking from the Wave-Motion Gun, and make a hard landing at the center of the enemy satellite.”
Kodai is surprisingly cautious. “Are we going to land on top of the enemy?”
“Yes! Hurry up!”
At this point, we hear the original Yamato‘s theme in the score. Yamato penetrates through the barrier, knocks down buildings of the enemy city, and makes a hard landing. The battle moves on to the usual hand-to-hand combat. This represents extreme opportunism, but it is also a scene that is full of Yamato-ness.
The image of physical combat and body blows is strong, but as mentioned in Chapter 4, Yamato excels in battles based on wisdom of the enemy’s treachery. This is a fight of flesh and blood, not of intelligence, and the emphasis is on the physical body. With the exception of Hajime Saito, who is a martial arts pro, Yamato’s crew has a strong image of a smart physique. Yamato itself embodies the rugged physicality that lurks within.
In the visuals, the camera leans in diagonally from the front of Yamato, and then leans all the way to the side to emphasize the weight of Yamato‘s body. With its rough body and wisdom, Yamato‘s battle strategy is to physically confront scientific civilization.
By throwing itself against scientific civilization, Yamato’s battle is similar to the physical expression of the anti-management movement that developed around 1970. To resist the crisis of civilization unfolding before Japan’s eyes, a flesh-and-blood Japanese body was needed. This is also why Yamato’s crew is composed entirely of Japanese members.
It is a Zero Dimension naked body, the primordial Japan. It has the same structure as Juro Kara’s riverside beggar with the body of a raging actor. What they sought was not nostalgia for prewar Japan. They sought utopia, a Japan they had not yet seen, entrusted to their bodies.
Disconnection between the Battleship Yamato and the Space Battleship Yamato
This is a neutral, stateless work, neither poison nor medicine, when anime was regarded as having no substance. In such an era, Yamato was often criticized for bringing in Japanese elements. It was the kind of backlash always received by pioneers.
But it was also due to the aesthetic nature of the subject matter. What if Yamato had started with the battle against the Comet Empire instead of the journey to Iscandar? The militaristic tone would have been too blatant and might not have gained much traction. The structure of starting with a story of salvation and finding the promised utopia pointed to by a goddess made it impossible for Yamato to be purely a battle story.
The partial denial of battle created a disconnect from the Battleship Yamato. What is the myth of the Battleship Yamato? That it was never given the opportunity to fully demonstrate its capabilities. The “tragedy” of the Battleship Yamato is that it went on a mission that was not designed to return from, and sank.
With an overall length of 263 meters, it is still “the world’s largest battleship.” The design of the centralized defense section, also known as the “vital part,” minimized flooding to the utmost limit. It was nicknamed the “Unsinkable Battleship.” The shipbuilding technology, which is said to have contributed to the high growth of spinoff technology later, symbolizes the “crystallization of science” aspect.
The myth is thought to consist of these four elements. Was this really inherited by the Space Battleship Yamato? Or was it severed?
First of all, Space Battleship Yamato may have had moments of kamikaze attacks and suicide bombings, but the general framework of the series is about survival, and there is little “tragedy” in the story. In Changing the Image of the Battleship Yamato (Movies and War, Moribasha, 2007), Akiko Sano points out that the former image is transformed into a “Small Battleship Yamato.”
In Part 1, Yamato is the largest battleship compared to her enemies and allies, except for the Domelus III. In fact, the old “world’s largest battleship” element may generally apply. In the sequel, as Sano points out, the enemy battleships are larger. However, they are often depicted at slightly more aggressive and deformative angles. Their size is also frequently shown, bring a subtle alteration to “the world’s largest battleship” status.
The “Unsinkable Battleship” is symbolized by its strong armor and solid structure, but it is often battered and bruised and unable to defeat its enemies, so the Space Battleship would hardly qualify as unsinkable. It is a “work of science,” but as we have seen, it is appropriate for Yamato to fight against a scientific civilization with its own ravaged body and wits.
In addition, Yamato spends most of the time operating alone, and the crew sometimes does not listen to orders from headquarters, standing apart from the Earth Defense Force. This is meant to highlight Yamato‘s successes, but it is the presence of Teresa and Mother Shalbart (Princess Ruda) that guides them, which separates Yamato from military beliefs.
The Battleship Yamato was mythologized as a symbol of the “tragedy” of the old Japanese military. In this sense, too, the space battleship differs from the original.
This book has examined Space Battleship Yamato from various points of view. When it first appeared, and in the midst of its boom, there were many who saw it as a projection of the Battleship Yamato and nationalism. On the other hand, Yoshinobu Nishizaki, who led the Yamato series, seems to have had complex ideas that could not be written off as anachronistic.
Prior to the release of Final Yamato, the LP Overture Toward Final Yamato was released in 1982. This album traces back to the Yayoi period of the Japanese archipelago, a climate blessed with abundant water. The wonderful culture of the Yamato period is explained in a flowing recitation. The symphony, filled with lightness and elegance, depicts life in Yamato (ancient Japan) long before modernization.
From there, the scene changes dramatically with the space migration of the water planet Aquarius, seeding life on Earth and other planets. A story is told of a divine ordeal by the water planet Aquarius that brought about the evolution of civilization, including the Biblical flood of Noah.
Here, it seems to be dreamed that Yamato (i.e. Japan, the land of Mizuho, blessed of abundant water) is directly connected to cosmic mythology. This myth leads to the story of Final Yamato, which is the structure of the album.
On the other hand, some of Nishizaki’s thinking can be read in the following message:
Since the Meiji Restoration, we have enthusiastically adopted Western civilization, believing that it was the only way to find happiness. Many of us did, but on the other hand, we also rushed into an impetuous colonialism, engaged in aggressive wars, tormented people in neighboring countries and made them suffer many privations with a vengeance. Both the kokoku shikan and the worship of American materialism were particularly strong trends that resulted from the current of the times. After looking at more of the world, we now must criticize the belief that Western civilization was the best and only way to find happiness and build modern Japan.”
(Be Forever Yamato movie pamphlet. Read the full essay here.)
Nishizaki’s behavior was often pointed out as anachronistic. The previous sentence, which is based on reflections on war and colonialism, is not Japanese xenophobism, and shows a break with general conservatism. Perhaps from the perspective of conservatism, Japan leads to Yamato, but his order of thinking is that Yamato leads to Japan. This difference is likely to cause him to be misunderstood. In him, there is an orientation toward a certain kind of spiritual civilization. The core of this is the Space Battleship Yamato, which is guided by the message of the Goddess of the Universe and faces up to hardships with the power of “human beings.”
Yamato and its crew seek peace, and for Nishizaki it may be the embodiment of the coming spiritual civilization. He seems to have developed a religious concept that could be called “Yamatoism.” When such a message is held up, the story takes on an aspect of fanaticism.
Betraying the Sublime and Rereading the Past
In Final Yamato, Susumu Kodai betrays the sublime narrative of what might be called “Yamatoism.” The larger story behind the film is one in which the universe is guided toward spiritual evolution by the Queen of Aquarius. Unlike in the finale of Farewell, however, Kodai is not religious in any way. He decides to self-destruct Yamato in order to save Earth. The drama of this conflict is a story of graduation from Yamato.
Earlier, I explained how Susumu Kodai was able to speak for otaku because of his inability to grow up. This is a growth drama that equates the Susumu Kodai who can’t leave Yamato to otaku who can’t leave anime. He describes his inner struggle as follows:
“Everyone, listen carefully. Would anyone who loves Yamato want to blow it up? Nobody wants to lose Yamato. Not Captain Okita, and especially not me. But if Yamato remains and Earth is destroyed, will we be happy? If there is still one, and only one, last way to save Earth, I think Yamato would gladly choose that way. Letting her do so would be a blessing for Yamato. That’s why, no matter how hard it is for us…”
These words say nothing about Earth’s crisis. In the end, Susumu Kodai is speaking only for himself. Final Yamato is torn between two stories that do not intersect: Aquarius’ sublime Yamatoism and Susumu Kodai’s Yamato graduation.
In Yamato Resurrection, Kodai is now 38 years old. He is still unable to forget his old Yamato and the battles they once shared, so he decides to quit his career track. His wife and daughter have also abandoned him. He is not a man who can grow up or become a respectable adult. Perhaps that is why he can be the hero that only speaks for himself.
Nishizaki also seems to have a strong attachment to the original battleship Yamato, probably amplified by the production of Space Battleship Yamato. In Final Yamato, the destroyer Fuyuzuki appears as Yamato‘s companion ship, and an homage to the battleship’s mission to Okinawa is incorporated into the film. Since the homage is already present in Part 1, it feels a bit repetitive.
It has also been pointed out that the forced landing on Uruk comes from the tactical idea of converting the Battleship Yamato into a fortress by beaching it on Okinawa. However, while the most well-known anime theme song in Japan plays in the background, Yamato rushes forward with its usual reckless body thrust. The in which Aihara, the most fragile of the crew, falls over during the forced landing, is a real treat for the audience and guarantees a laugh. This visual expression is disconnected from the “tragic” image of the Battleship Yamato.
As a result, the Space Battleship Yamato stands on its own as a symbol, and its relationship to the battleship has been severed.
The unique symbolism of Yamato comes from the exquisite blending of the thoughts and sensibilities of the staff, from Yoshinobu Nishizaki and Toshio Masuda as the oldest to the younger generation who advocated against militarism, as seen in Chapter 2. The personality of Susumu Kodai, established in Part 1, also stands on its own as a symbol of “the impossibility of growth in the cause of war.”
The film that comes to mind as a new reading of this old symbol is Akira Kurosawa’s The Seven Samurai (1954). Samurai have historically been the enforcers of the feudal order. In the past, they were exploited as a spiritual symbol by the former Japanese military. Kurosawa, however, gave us a completely new reading of the samurai as a lively being who fights for the people rather than the ruling order.
“In Kurosawa’s period dramas, the heroes are usually ronin or warlords, and thus able to act only according to their own convictions. The Seven Samurai fight a battle against a pack of thieves not out of loyalty, but out of samurai pride. This film was released nine years after Japan’s defeat in World War II.”
“The concept of a proud man willingly sacrifice himself for the sake of the weak was a powerful encouragement to the Japanese people, who had abandoned the ideal of fighting for loyalty in the war. This is not the correct interpretation of Japanese Bushido, but rather a reinterpretation and revision of bushido after the war’s end.”
“I think that Keisuke Kinoshita’s consoling of the weak and Akira Kurosawa’s unyielding self-respect were two national spiritual currents that complemented each other and supported postwar democracy.”
(Tadao Sato, Akira Kurosawa’s Works, Iwanami Shoten, 2002).
In addition, Kikuchiyo, a peasant farmer who appears in Seven Samurai, is an ambivalent figure; half samurai, half farmer. He also expresses strong criticism of the samurai. The fact that he relativizes samurai with war is what makes this work so extraordinary.
Yamato also leaves the military and acts alone, a situation that is common to almost all the stories. Kurosawa made Bushido universal by giving it a chivalric interpretation. In recent years, designs featuring samurai and contemporary art using samurai motifs have become popular under the rubrick of “Cool Japan.” However, what do they really mean? For what purpose do samurai exist, and why do they fight? From the Western point of view, it is just exoticism. Is there a fear that the film is being viewed in this context?
Like Kurosawa’s period dramas, Yamato also rereads old symbols. It gave a positive meaning to the symbols, which was a reflection of the times. Today, in 2010, if you ask young people about the Battleship Yamato, most of them assume you mean Space Battleship Yamato.
As a result, the Battleship Yamato of the past may be forgotten. But in a different form, the story of Yamato, which sought peace and questioned the meaning of battle, will be passed down to the next generation. I think this would mean something to many people who died in the past.
What is the appeal of Yamato in such a symbolic reinterpretation? I will conclude by exploring this question.
Two microcosms in the final episode of Part 1
In the 1977 Yamato movie, much of the content of the final TV episode from Part 1 was omitted due to the length of the film. Also, due to adult circumstances such as the death of Captain Okita, the episode itself seems to have been sealed off within the series. However, if you look at that episode in detail, you will realize that the message of the work is condensed there.
Episode 25 ends with Yamato leaving Starsha and Mamoru Kodai on the planet Iscandar. At the beginning of Episode 26, the Milky Way galaxy already looms before us. More than 100,000 light-years of the return journey have been omitted.
In sight of Earth, Yamato is under covert pursuit by Dessler’s ship, which escaped from Gamilas and now seeks revenge. Dessler sees Yamato warp away right in front of him and orders his own ship to follow. In his haste, he fails to calculate a proper course, and after warping, his ship accidentally crashes into the Yamato.
Dessler releases radioactive gas into Yamato and challenges the crew to hand-to-hand combat. He uses this gas, which is toxic to earthlings, to gain the upper hand. (Unlike in the sequel, the Gamilas could not live without radioactive gas.)
Susumu Kodai has a hard time against them. Upon learning of this, Yuki Mori activates the Cosmo Cleaner D to turn the tables on Dessler. However, an operational problem causes the air to become toxic, and she dies. Dessler withdraws and leaves.
Earth is approaching before our eyes. The ship is in a state of excitement, but Kodai wanders around the ship alone, having lost the love of his life.
This episode is a combination of two schemes. First, Yamato is contaminated by radiation, but a noble sacrifice is made. This is a metaphor for the process of Earth being reborn after the Gamilas attack. In addition, the situation of Kodai, who is left alone, overlaps with the farewell party in Episode 10. And again, the person he confides in is Captain Okita. However, this Susumu Kodai is different from who he was before.
“Please tell me. What should I do? How can I live alone on an Earth without Yuki?”
“Kodai, do you think you’re all alone? There are many people on Earth waiting for Yamato. You’ve learned to love more people through this voyage. That would make Yuki happy.”
“Kodai, I don’t think I’ll die before I get a glimpse of Earth. Why do you think that is? Because I think my heart is connected to the Earth, to the people who are waiting for Yamato‘s return.”
19
“I understand, Captain. Yes, I think I understand. Even if it’s hard for me, I’ll do my best.”
The hope of possibility in the rebirth of Yuki Mori
Susumu Kodai enters the infirmary. He picks up Yuki Mori’s corpse, lying on the bed wearing a nightgown, and begins to walk. Here, he reflects on what his journey has meant to him. He had never opened his heart to anyone before, but he learned the importance of accepting and loving others.
In hospital room where Yuki Mori is laid to rest and the stairs where Susumu Kodai walks, the surroundings are dark and blurred, with only a few vertical rays of light illuminating the two of them. It is like a theater stage or a church chapel. Kodai sits Yuki Mori in his chair on the first bridge and calls out to her in a whisper, “Yuki, do you see it? That is our Earth.”
At that moment, Dessler is again taking aim at Yamato. He fires his deadly Dessler cannon. Not even Daisuke Shima could dodge this incoming beam of light. During this time, Acting Captain Susumu Kodai does not issue any orders. He only embraces the remains of Yuki Mori.
If this story is about Kodai’s growth as a soldier, it should be about him overcoming death and fulfilling his duty. Instead, his “growth” is to know that even an enemy’s life is irreplaceable, and to learn to love others.
This scene tells us that the theme of Yamato is not about fighting. Lamenting the misfortune in front of him, this Susumu Kodai is as unfit for military service as he has been throughout the series.
At that moment, Shiro Sanada flips a switch, enveloping Yamato‘s body in a white radiance. The beam hits the ship and scatters, some of it bouncing back at Dessler. His ship explodes in a form of self-destruction.
“I got the idea from the Gamilas Reflection Cannon we saw on Pluto. I developed spatial magnetic plating, which came in handy.”
The principle is not yet clarified, but it seems to be a mechanism that deflects and twists the path of incoming objects. It may be the same as Goruba’s dimensional field in The New Voyage.
Captain Okita does nothing to address the series of crises in this episode. Everything is left to the other crew members. Susumu Kodai, Shiro Sanada, Daisuke Shima, and so on. After this, there is the scene described in Chapter 3; Captain Okita’s death, which will go down in anime history. (Fans of the past must have imagined that Captain Okita in Final Yamato was a phantom.)
Then, when Susumu Kodai picks up Yuki Mori and starts to walk back to the infirmary, he realizes that her body is breathing, She has come back to life. He starts to dance around in joy with her in his arms. Around them, the crew congratulates them both.
The meaning of this scene is simple. God receives one soul and returns another.
The silent performance depicts a mystical moment. I mentioned earlier that this episode is a microcosm of the fate of Earth itself. The purification of the air inside Yamato is only an external matter. The rebirth of Yuki Mori is a metaphor for the miraculous rebirth of the soul of the Earth. Or perhaps the images, staged in darkness and light, may have a Christian meaning of rebirth.
The joyful young man and the maiden in her nightgown are not appropriate for the first bridge of a battleship. But by setting this scene of youthful joy there, the battleship with a cursed fate is transformed into something with new possibilities.
The story begins with the resurrection of the Battleship Yamato. Why remodel the old ship instead of naming a new one Yamato? I think it is because it was necessary to include the meaning of death and rebirth, as seen in Yuki Mori (I mean as a story, not as a science-fiction concept). It is the possibility that the old can be reborn anew.
This may have been the task entrusted to Japan in the 1970s. However, it has not yet lost its meaning. Thirty-six years later, Space Battleship Yamato continues to ask whether we can regenerate ourselves.