Otaku, No Video

Space Pirate Captain Harlock is a classic space opera anime series from 1978. This means it was made back when anime sucked.

Back then, anime was still for kids, both in the public’s mind and in anime’s content. That attitude was beginning to change as shows like Mazinger Z and Galaxy Express 999 introduced bloodier violence, occasional fanservice, and the death of named characters.

So, Captain Harlock has a low sheet count. All shows of that time had the same problem, and the sheet count increases as the series progresses. Characters are often off-model, though not by much. It relies heavily on visual clichés like dramatic poses. Overall, the show’s animation quality is comparable to Mobile Suit Gundam‘s.

The director, Rintaro, compensates for this lackluster animation quality with an artistic approach to many shots. He also directed the anime film Metropolis, which features a similarly artistic visual style.

I’ll demonstrate this style with one moment early in the series. A middle-aged doctor returns to his lab late in the night, where an assassin shoots him. As he recoils from the blast, the colors fade to black-on-white, and his clothes begin to dissolve into the white nothingness around him. We cut to a close-up on his face, black lines on white, while the white of his one visible eye is colored fire engine red as he continues to fall backwards, away from us. This is intercut with high-speed shots of his son running down (fully-colored) halls and up eternal staircases. The doctor continues to fall back, his hair now trailing into the white void.

The screen then divides into four uneven columns, the borders angled like rays from the sun, and each one shows a slightly different moment of the doctor falling backwards. Then he hits the ground, still black-on-white with one red eye, nearly a minute after he’s shot.

This was in a kids’ action show.

I must warn you about one thing about the story: the first few episodes focus on a side story: a young girl that Harlock protects. It felt like a strange place to start: Captain Harlock, the big action hero and wanted pirate, keeps returning to earth to stop the bullying of a small child. She becomes more important later in the show; I just wish it hadn’t started with quite so much focus on her.

The story progresses into a big space opera action/adventure story of pirate ships, fighter-on-fighter combat, pastel alien worlds, and tragic love stories. This is not a hard science fiction world that thinks hard about its technology; it’s a world of ray guns.

Even though Harlock is an action story, each major character except Harlock himself gets one episode of backstory, extending them beyond one-dimensional archetypes.

The eclectic cast of characters deserves this attention. We have Harlock, a stoic and trusting leader with an unknown past. Miime, an alien woman with no mouth, acts as Harlock’s confidante now that she’s “pledged her life to Harlock.” Yuki, the navigator, is a very young woman who seems out-of-place among the crew of mostly middle-aged men. The helmsman,???, is a perpetual child who spends most of his time building plastic model kits on the bridge (clever merchandising tie-in, there). And what’s a happy-go-lucky doctor doing on a pirate ship?

Then there’s Daiba, a 15-year-old boy and the standard audience identification character, who is thrown into the mix through circumstances that would be spoilers to reveal. He’s less interesting, because he has no past; the story of Harlock will be his crucible. He spends much of his time taking reckless action.

This highlights an interesting aspect of Harlock: the contrast between Daiba and Harlock himself. Harlock appears to be in his 30′s, and has the wisdom of an experienced adult. He often councils patience–and just as often charges into impossible situations because he has a strategy. The plot is all about outwitting one’s opponent, and finding the right balance between action and observation.

Speaking of the opponents: two aspects of the series’ primary villains deserve mention. The all-female race, the Mazone, plan to take over Earth, and the later plot reveals that they are not mere megalomaniacs. I won’t spoil the real reasons for the Mazone’s desire; suffice to say that they are not unreasonable.

Secondly, when a Mazone dies, she immediately catches fire, screams like a banshee, and collapses in a heap of blue flame, burnt to ashes in seconds. I use the banshee cliché deliberately; not only did the sound editor use the same scream whenever a Mazone dies, it is pitched high, loud, and agonizing. It jangles the nerves.

Mazone do not get mowed down in droves; they scream as though they’re being tortured. It adds weight to the action.

The voices fit their characters well; not surprising, considering this is a classic series. Harlock’s deep voice sounds grand and gritty; Yuki sounds young and lush; Miime is lilting, quiet, and mysterious. This is important; the show features a wide emotional range from quiet conversations between characters, tense negotations with alien infiltrators, and high-energy space battles.

I also sing the praises of Harlock‘s music: a full orchestral soundtrack that’s big, bold, and brassy. A perfect compliment to the series, the music fully deserves a separate listen.

Overall, Space Pirate Captain Harlock was an unusual experience. The villains’ mystery kept shifting just enough to keep me intrigued, and the characters’ personalities bounced off each other in interesting ways. The art and story had all the drawbacks of the show’s era. I kept looking forward to the occasional artistic flourish.

It’s a classic, and deserves to be treated as one, flaws and all.