Nippon Reviews: Matsuri No Uma (The Horses of Fukushima)

The Horses of Fukushima (Matsuri No Uma): Written, directed, filmed, and edited by Yoju Matsubayashi.  Running Time: 74 minutes. 

Rating: 2.5/4

            After the Fukushima disaster, locals were soon ordered by the government to evacuate the region entirely, up to a radius of 20 kilometers.  Any and all pets and livestock were to be killed, to prevent them from escaping the zone and spreading contamination.  This was especially important for livestock, to make sure that no “tainted meat” would appear on the market.  In only one instance was there an exception- a herd of specially-trained horses, intended for a special annual cultural ceremony, were allowed to be taken out of the evacuation zone several weeks after the incident and, despite the danger, were taken to a government-run shelter to recover.  These horses and the struggles faced by their owner are the focus of The Horses of Fukushima. 

            The director of this movie, Yoju Matsubayashi, said that he initially heard of the horses while filming his first documentary about the Fukushima disaster, Memories of a Lost Landscape (he is planning to premiere a third at Nippon next year).  One of the people he worked with knew the owner and took him for a visit to the ripped-up shed, where the surviving horses had somehow managed to survive the flooding.  Later, when they were granted permission to retrieve the horses, he decided to work alongside them as a helper, filming as they went.  After the initials setbacks in getting government approval, they were finally able to bring the horses to a shelter where they are slowly fed and given medical treatment.  We see the seasons slowly change as they gain wait and, in nearly all cases, are able to survive for the next festival. 

            As far as documentaries go, it is very sparse in its speech and information- nearly all of the film is just footage of the horses, showing them slowly regaining their strength.  There are a few moments of the owner talking about his first experiences with horses, but even he is rarely on-screen.  This festival that they are a part of is also never explained in detail, other than to say that it was originally a way for samurai-in-training to condition their horses.  But as far as what sort of activities or events the festival is actually composed of, I could not say.

            In the Q&A session after the showing, Yoju explained that this was an intentional decision on his part- after watching his original cut, he decided that the story of the horses themselves was powerful enough to not really need much dialogue, interview clips, or explanation.  As a result, he cut out a significant amount of interview and exposition materials. 

            While I can certainly understand the sentiment- cinema, after all, should be show and don’t tell before all else- I don’t know if it was a particularly effective decision as far as this subject matter is concerned.  Much of the footage of the horses is beautiful and moving, especially after they are finally able to run free outdoors again, but I would have at least preferred to have learned more about the festival they are a part of, with perhaps comments from some locals on what the festival means to them.  Or perhaps a bit more from the owner, who seems like the sort of quiet, dedicated person who deserves to have a whole documentary devoted to their life and work. 

            Those are, of course, to a certain extent, just things that I personally would have done, and need not reflect negatively on the director or his film.  There is a clear affection here that shines through the screen, and a reverence for the physical majesty of the horse.  That makes it, at the very least, a highly unique and personal work of documentary filmmaking. 

Next film: Unforgiven

-Noah Franc 

Nippon Reviews: Sochite Chichi Ni Naru (Like Father, Like Son)

Like Father, Like Son (Sochite Chichi Ni Naru): Written and directed by Hirokazu Koreeda.  Starring: Masaharu Fukuyama, Machiko Ono, Keita Ninomiya, Lily Franky, and Yoko Maki.  Running Time: 120 minutes. 

Rating: 4/4

           How would you respond if unexpected events pulled the rug out from under everything you thought was certain in your life?  If everything you thought you knew about yourself suddenly started slipping away?  I can’t say I’ve ever been in such a position myself, but since I am no stranger to existential dread, I can hazard a guess as to what that might be like.  And what I guess is nothing pleasant, or easy. 

            This is precisely the predicament that our main characters, Ryota and Midori, find themselves in.  Via a mandatory blood test, the two learn that their son, Kyota, is not actually theirs- through some accident, their baby was switched at birth with another.  They are put in contact with the other identified parents, Yukari and Yudai, and their “actual” child, Ryusei.  Together, with the children none the wiser, the four adults must decide together whether to exchange the children or to continue on as before. 

            I will not say what decision they ultimately reach, but it is obviously not reached without a great deal of agonizing soul-searching on the part of all involved, especially Ryota.  The more overarching themes of the movie deal with the idea of familial and parental love in general, which is to be expected, but it soon becomes clear that this is a story very specifically meant for fathers.  Ryota had always raised his son to succeed, trying to teach him to never be satisfied with not being the best (even though he hasn’t even started regular school yet).  He’s not domineering, or abusive, or cold- he openly admits that he wishes his job didn’t pull him away from his wife and child so often.  On the other hand, though, he also clearly never tries to get any time off, even when his boss says he should, because to him, that’s just what fathers do- they work, and push their children hard.  And prior to learning that Kyota is not his by blood, he laments to Midori that their son is just “too nice” to survive in the work world. 

            Because of this, when the news arrives, his first major struggle is to figure out what, exactly, his reaction is.  Is he genuinely upset and angry, or is he also feeling some sense of relief?  He doesn’t seem to know, so, of course, neither do we.  The major conceit of the story is that he and the other father, Yukari, are polar opposites.  Ryota is a self-serious, educated engineer at a prestigious firm, living in a high-end, clean apartment, and raising his son on the basic tenets of tough love.  Yukari is an uneducated mechanic running a household goods store, making glib jokes without end; his family of five is squeezed into a crowded and messy apartment over the shop; he bathes with his children and gleefully joins them in the ball pit in shopping mall play centers.  Their exchanges are second only to those between Ryota and his wife and son, a meditation on contrasting opposites.

            Like Father, Like Son is a deeply affecting film.  At the viewing I attended there were far fewer dry pairs of eyes post-credits than when the lights first dimmed.  I believe it’s affecting precisely because of what it doesn’t do, rather than what it does do; there is no shouting, for one; the situation these people are in is incredible enough that no artificial melodrama is required.  The soundtrack, a compilation of classical piano pieces, is reserved, solemn, almost hushed; there are no weeping strings to be heard.  There are clear lessons to be learned, but no preaching.  A great many questions are raised, or hinted at, and most are left unanswered, lingering in the air with the dust of the projector screen. 

            The atmosphere of the movie is captured perfectly in one, brief scene, when Midori comes across a painted clay disc of some sort with Kyota’s handprint in it.  It’s a relic of a long-forgotten art class, the sort of thing most parents toss into the trash years before the child starts high school.  Here, though, for a brief moment, it’s far, far more than just a pottery project- as she silently contemplates it, sliding her fingers into the smooth, hardened grooves, it seems to represent everything about their family up to that point in time, as if simply holding it can make things be just the way they were.  The scene, like the movie, lingers on, long after it’s over.   

Next film: The Horses of Fukushima

-Noah Franc 

Nippon Reviews: Shazai No Osuma (The Apology King)

The Apology King (Shazai No Osuma): Written by Kankuro Kudo, directed by Nobuo Mizuta.  Starring: Sadao Abe, Mao Inoue, Masaki Okada, Yutaka Takenouchi, and Machiko Ono.  Running Time: 128 minutes. 

Rating: 3/4  

            We’ve all had those moments when we’ve had to apologize, and we’ve also all had moments where we expected an apology in turn.  Maybe we got it, maybe we didn’t.  Maybe when we said sorry, we meant it, and did whatever we needed to do to set things right.  And maybe we were lying through our teeth, counting down the minutes between breaking off the obligatory remorseful eye contact and rushing back home to catch the latest episode of CSI: Fargo Breaking Homeland.  I certainly know that I have never enjoyed apologizing, especially when I am fully aware of my guilt. 

            For douchefaces like me, thankfully, there is Yuzuru Kuroshima (Sadao Abe), a man obsessed with finding the perfect apology and sporting a haircut that would make Coconut Head weep with despair.  Burned (literally) by a careless ramen cook and unable to get the simple, straight-up apology he sought, he has devoted his life to perfecting the art of Dogeza (a very formal apology in Japan), so that he can help others fully shed themselves of whatever guilt they may be lugging around on their shoulders.  At his side is Noriko (Mao Inoue), a young law student who agrees to work for him after a particularly passionate apology of his saves her from having to work as a call girl.  Together, they seek to find the perfect apology for, in turn, a perverted and sexist underwear designer, the celebrity parents of a (seemingly) violent actor, a work-obsessed lawyer guilty over his treatment of his daughter, and literally the entire nation of Japan after a group of filmmakers and diplomats manage to offend a major trading partner on just about every conceivable level.  

            It’s a film that runs solely on its own vibrant energy, and while it doesn’t build up quite enough to fully sustain itself all the way through, Apology King is a fun, fun ride from start to finish.  The director, Nobuo Mizuta, gave a short introduction to the film at its premier, and even with the necessity of a translator, the bubbling, impish humor that clearly underlies each scene shone through in how he carried himself.  From the start, we are treated to a dressing-down of the Japanese habit of apologizing far too often; at the start, Yuzuru tells Noriko that the best way to apologize is right away, even before you know for sure if you did something wrong.  Overreacting to your mistakes is always best; when done fervently enough, the person starts to feel uncomfortable about being deferred to so much, and will forgive much easier.  And for maximum effect, be sure to perfectly time hitting the ground with your forehead if the full Dogeza- a formal, hands-and-face-on-the-ground apology bow- is needed.  We are, however, also reminded in a few thoughtful scenes that, even when they’re overdone, truly sincere apologies can go a long way towards making people’s lives a little bit happier. 

            Apologies are not the only comedic source utilized though- sexism, obsession with work, the movie business (ironically), government officials, celebrity gossip culture, and even some subtle differences between Japanese and Western culture are all brought in to be smacked around one way or another.  The linchpin pulling all these disparate elements together is Yuzuru, whose boyish exuberance makes a functioning character out of what, in a great many hands, could easily be a disaster of a lead.  He’s excellently foiled by everyone around him, essentially all of whom are made the straight man in his presence by default. 

            The absurdity of each circumstance he and his “patients” find themselves in builds itself up into an extended climactic gag that will either make or break the film for many viewers.  Having thought about it for several days, I’m still not entirely sure if I thought the joke was genuinely funny, but darn if they don’t hammer it in deep, and I can’t help but admire the commitment that takes.  It follows one of the more debatable traditions of comedy, namely that anything can become funny if you do it long and determinedly enough. 

            It won’t make you cry, and it won’t make your heart throb.  I never fell in love with the characters like I did with last year’s Key of Life.  But it will make you laugh, a lot, and that’s more than enough. 

Next film: Like Father, Like Son

-Noah Franc 

Nippon 2014!

            A hyperactive man-child with an obsession for the Dogeza, the traditional Japanese form for apologizing.  A proud and self-conscious businessman, forced to reevaluate his deep-seated beliefs on what it means to be a father.  Horses used for important cultural events, forcibly abandoned after the disaster at Fukushima.   An ex-samurai, seeking redemption by renouncing his violent past.  A smart but indecisive college graduate, unwilling to think about life beyond the next meal.  A girl who passes through a mysterious portal, and finds herself in a world where everything is, quite literally, upside down. 

            These were the cinematic experiences I had the privilege of enjoying at Nippon Connection this year, the annual Japanese film festival held in Frankfurt am Main.  From May 27^th through June 1^st, dozens upon of dozens of film premiers, retrospectives, specials, and cultural events took place at the three primary hubs of the festival- the Mousonturm, the Naxoshalle, and, for the second showings of certain films, the Mal Seh’n Kino. 

            When at Nippon, the word of the week is always pink.  All various shades of pink, mixed with the occasional white, or brown.  Shining through paper-covered lights or globes hanging from the ceiling, set upon the origami table in the middle of the front hall, plastered on the sides of the food and merchandise stands, or striking the eye from the banners and posters on the walls.  Pink on the bags and t-shirts that I absurdly love walking away with.  Follow the pink, and you can’t possibly get lost. 

             Given that the festival coincided with another one of Frankfurt’s innumerable street festivals, I was rather glad to see so many people present, and a great many of the viewings I attended were shown to full houses.  If I were to use one word to describe the scene at the Mousonturm hub, it would be heartening.  Heartening to see so many different people from countless walks of life coming together to enjoy good food, good music, good conversation (hopefully), and, when there’s time left over, good film. 

            An undertaking like Nippon is a trying task, but as always, the volunteer crews that make the festival function were up to the task.  A special shout-out to everyone who gave of their time, energy, and, inevitably, their mental well-being to make Nippon a great experience for all the guests, including my freeloading self.  

            Yesterday, the website for the festival officially posted the winners of the four award categories up for grabs this time around.  They are as follows:

Nippon Cinema Award: Pecoross’ Mother And Her Days (Azuma Morisaki)

Nippon Visions Award: Antonym (Natsuka Kusano)

Nippon Visions Audience Award: Tale of a Butcher Shop (Aya Hanabusa)

VGF Nippon In Motion Award: Onigiri No Origami (Christine Mai & David Clausmeier)

            As for me, over the next few weeks, I will be posting my reviews of the 6 movies that I had the time to see at the festival, none of which I would call a disappointment, and a few of which that, like last year, could very well end up on my Top 10 list for the year come next January.  All are movies I fully recommend to anyone open to sampling something new in their cinematic palate.  Stay tuned. 

-Noah Franc  

Review: Godzilla

Godzilla (2014): Written by Max Borenstein and directed by Gareth Edwards.  Starring: Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Ken Watanabe, Elizabeth Olsen, Juliette Binoche, Sally Hawkins, David Strathairn, and Bryan Cranston.  Running Time: 123 minutes.  Based on…..do I really have to say it???

Rating: 2.5/4

            After some deliberation, I find that my reaction to the latest addition to the Godzilla canon bears a striking resemblance to my reaction to last year’s Man of Steel, also a divisive reboot of a long-standing cultural icon.  Both are revivals of franchises that I have never been particularly drawn to, nor have I had much exposure to them.  Both are films that I sincerely hoped would nudge me towards being a fan, and give me a feeling for what keeps bringing so many people back to them.  And while both films certainly have their moments of power and awe, I walked away from each one feeling slightly underwhelmed by the overall experience (although I definitely think Godzilla is by far the superior of the two, in terms of overall quality). 

            We get an opening montage more or less establishing for us that the governments of the world have known of Godzilla’s existence for some time, and founded an international organization that has been monitoring him ever since the events of the first Godzilla film in 1954.  Furthermore, this organization, or more specifically, its lone on-screen representative Dr. Ishiro Serizawa (followed around by a sinful waste of Sally Hawkins) is aware of other creatures apparently from the same era as Godzilla.  One of them is discovered to have hatched in a cave in the Philippines, and soon afterwards, it turns up in a coastal Japanese town most definitely not called Fukushima, where it destroys the nuclear facility and effectively sets itself up in a cocoon there to feed off the remaining nuclear energy in the core (the explanation we eventually get is that these creatures are from a more radioactive era of earth’s history, and therefore feed off nuclear reactions). 

            Obviously, this is covered up by the world governments, much to the fury of nuclear scientist Joe Brody (played by Bryan Cranston), who survived the attack but lost his wife in the process, shown in the one genuinely great scene in the entire film featuring real, human emotion.  After the attack, we cut to 15 years later.  Brody’s son is now a munitions specialist for the US military, while Joe has made a hobby out of obsessively studying phenomena like what he witnessed at the plant, trying to prove that it was not, as the Japanese government claimed, an earthquake.  More out of exasperation that anything else, the son agrees to accompany him on one last trip to the quarantined facility to try and find out the truth.  There, they discover that it was, in fact, a monster that destroyed the facility all those years ago, and that the quarantine was merely put in place so that Ishiro and his colleagues could study it. 

            Shortly after they arrive, the creature, referred to by Ishiro as a MUTO, awakens, leaves the cocoon, and begins to leave a trail of destruction and death in its wake as it heads across the Pacific to San Francisco, where they realize it will meet up with another MUTO that recently awoke in the Nevada desert.  Assuring the military that they have no possible way of killing these creatures, Ishiro claims that there only hope is to lead Godzilla, accompanied by an entire naval fleet, to San Francisco as well, so that he can so battle with the great monsters from another age. 

            It’s a lot of exposition and build-up for a very basic monster-movie premise, but the serious amount of time needed to explain and show all this is not the reason that the film fell flat for me on more than a few occasions.  The movie makes a big deal of out very slowly building up the atmosphere of human terror of the awesome, supernatural might on display, waiting to fully show Godzilla and the MUTOs in action until the very end, and as far as the technical side goes, it handles itself very well.  The movie looks great, there’s none of the shaky-cam nonsense that ruined so much of Man of Steel (one big reason why it’s a superior reboot, all else aside), and every time we get to see Godzilla, the effects really are jaw-dropping.  The final battle taking place, for once, in a city not starting “New” and ending with “-ork,” is of a much different sort than the quick pace of last year’s Pacific Rim, with the monsters slower and more ponderous, but it’s still engaging and a ton of fun to watch. 

            No, the real issues start to pop up whenever the monsters are not screen, which, sadly, is most of the movie- the humans are not well written, and with the exception of the always-dependable Cranston and Watanabe, they are not well-acted or well-directed.  Taylor-Johnson could not come across blander if he had rice cakes stapled to his forehead, which is a major problem, because his relationship to his Dad and his efforts to get to San Francisco before the monsters do (his also-boring family is conveniently located right in the middle of the city) is clearly meant to be the emotional center of the film.  And….yeah, there’s no way around it, everything involving him and his family just does not do it for me.  I am yet to hear from anyone who thought that that aspect of the film worked.  Which is a shame, because if the film had focused more on the dad or Dr. Ishiro and on their issues, we might have a genuinely great film on our hands.  Hell, I would have loved to see a movie devoted solely to Dr. Ishiro, who seems to have a really fascinating backstory that never gets let out of the box. 

            Ultimately, the real question to answer is this; the flaws with how the human characters are handled aside, is it worth the wait once we finally get to a good, old-fashioned monster smackdown with a $160 million facelift?  I think it was for me.  The opening, centered around old man Brody, works great, and I loved the scope of the third act.  For myself, and for a lot of other people apparently, that was enough.  For others, it wasn’t.  To decide whether or not it works for you, you’ll just have to see for yourself. 

-Noah Franc 

Review: Beauty and the Beast

La Belle et la Bête (2014): Written by Christophe Gans and Sandra Vo-Ahn, directed by Christophe Gans.  Starring: Lea Seydoux, Vincent Cassel, Andre Dussollier.  Running Time: 112 minutes.  Based on the original fairytale by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve. 

Rating: 1/4 Stars

            I will not conceal or skirt around my disappointment- I expected more from a live-action re-imagining of a classic French tale starring Vincent Cassel and Lea Seydoux.  It’s not bad in the sense that it does anything wrong, and at times the visual design approaches genuine beauty.  But any goodwill I have towards the film’s engrossing costumes or sets is undercut by the fact that, underneath all the admittedly pretty eye candy, there’s just nothing there.  At all. 

            The story we all know and love is narrated to us by a woman (who IS NOT Belle, let me make that clear) reading the tale out of a storybook for two young children (not Belle’s, obviously).  Belle (Lea Seydoux) was the youngest of the 6 children of a wealthy merchant, who, after some bad luck with his ships, loses everything and is forced to move a house in the country (most definitely not the house where the children are currently being read this story- nope, most definitely not).  The possibility of financial redemption briefly draws him and his oldest son back to the city, only to very promptly learn that their hopes were premature.  I say promptly, because it happens in the next scene, but clearly large swaths of time have passed, for ‘twas summer when they left and now everything is under snow.  This angers the son, for very obvious and legitimate reasons, who leaves, and apparently rips off a gang leader (his scar proves that he is Evil), whom the father then inadvertently crosses, causing him to flee into the woods, where he happens across the realm of the Beast, played in full-body-and-face makeup by Vincent Cassel. 

            ….…Good Lord, just writing that made me realize how utterly nonsensical the entire setup in the first act ends up being.  Yeesh. 

            Food and drink are waiting for the father, provided by the Beast’s minions.  Quick side note, instead of charming, funny, and musical household items, in this version the minions are what you would get if a Jawa mated with a Dachshund (yes, I’m sure there is a DeviantART page for that- no, for the love of God, do not post a link).  Along with food, he finds chests full of everything on the list of desired goodies for his remarkably memorable and fleshed-out not-Belle children.  The only thing missing?  A single rose, the only gift Belle (who, I repeat, is not the one narrating the story) wanted for herself.  As he sets out to leave, he attempts to pick one, but is then caught by the Beast, and told that if he does not return within a single day after delivering the gifts to his children, they will all be killed.

            This, of course, is what drives Belle (STOP it, she’s NOT the narrator, guys!) to offer herself to the Beast as a prisoner in order to save her father, leading to the emotional center of the entire story- Belle’s long-term imprisonment, her struggles to come to terms with her new life, and her developing relationship with the Beast as she tries to find out the secret behind his curse (spoiler alert; the secret is that it’s a terrible waste of a twist). 

            And sadly, even then the movie does not start to get more interesting.  And it was at this point that I recognized the film’s biggest issue, and a rather frightening one at that- you could swap out Seydoux and Cassel for pretty much anyone else, and it would not make one bit of difference in terms of the emotional impact of the story or characters.  Why this is, I do not know, but I would ere on the side of blaming the direction, or perhaps a bad contract with the studio.  We all know Seydoux can be a force of nature, but here, she doesn’t even appear to be trying.  She simply walks on-screen and announces, “Hi.  I am innocence embodied, y’all.  ‘N stuff.”  Cassel seems to be trying to pull the old dark-and-mysterious routine, but I can’t tell if he does it well, because the suit he’s stuffed into allows literally no facial wiggle-room with which to convey emotion.  That was perhaps an inevitable advantage Disney had when turning the story into an animated film- the physical limitations of makeup preventing the Beast to show emotion and growth simply do not exist in the animated world. 

            The script may also be to blame- every single story point is hit with a dead, perfunctory note, like the screenwriter was just checking off each point on his list of “Every Plot Point That Must Be In A Beast Movie.”  No character is given a line or moment that didn’t come across as trite exposition, and the sad result is that what should be a sweeping, magical, fairy-tale epic feels instead like an empty shell inside which something died several weeks ago. 

            My disappointment in this movie’s shortcomings is made all the more potent by the fact that the sets and visual design are perfect for the kind of mystical feel they obviously want the movie to have.  The colors jump and blend and contrast with each other wonderfully- pure white snow, blood-red and sky-blue and emerald-green dresses, mounds of roses, sunlight literally bathing the screen in gold- there’s one magnificent image of Belle falling into a frozen lake that set off every “prettyprettypretty” bell in my head.  The design of the castle and its interior is great- too bad we see next-to-nothing of it.  The Jawa-hound-mutants have an admittedly interesting design, and the narrator-who-is-not-Belle says they became her best friends during her captivity, but we really only have her word for it, because aside from a single scene that establishes that the entire pack basically stalks her everywhere, they are almost nowhere to be seen the entire time. 

            This is a pretty movie, a very, very pretty movie, but it’s superficial sheen only serves to make me more aware that, in all the areas that matter, this movie fails to deliver anything I could say was worth remembering afterwards.  If you like elaborate, old-school French get-up, have at it, but there are many other, better movies that can satisfy your most fashionable needs. 

-Noah Franc 

6 Reasons to Read Avatar: The Lost Adventures

            Thus far, I have been fully enjoying the Avatar comics continuing Aang and co.’s post-comet escapades just as much as I enjoyed the show (still my favorite show of all time, and sure to be the subject of a number of posts here before I either lose interest in this site, or transform it into something else).  I love seeing and appreciating how the new medium has allowed them to dive into certain aspects of the world a bit more than they were able to before.  Special mention goes to The Promise, which uses the thorny issue of the leftover Fire Nation colonies to reflect on some very, very similar conflicts in our world today, and about how such incredibly sensitive issues can be dealt with peacefully and bloodlessly.  Anyone who dismisses this franchise as “just more kid’s stuff” has clearly never bothered to watch even a single episode of the series or read a single chapter of the comics. 

            A great many of my friends have been reading along as well, and we are all eagerly anticipating the next chapter of the third series, The Rift, set to be released in July later this year.  However, while the main comic series have generated a lot of buzz, I have heard very little discussion concerning a side comic they’ve released as well, titled The Lost Adventures.  This series is not a set story like the other stuff they’ve come out with so far.  Rather, it’s a collection of 28 short tales taking place in between the episodes of the original show, many of them taking up no more than a few pages.  One imagines that a lot of the shorts there were ideas they never had the time or the space to bring into an actual episode of the series, and that they were initially shelved until putting them into comic form became an option. 

            Because it doesn’t tell a definitive story meant to be permanent part of franchise canon, I can understand why people may have overlooked this particular installment in the comic series, especially since most of the tales center around brief, silly little gags.  However, hidden amongst the whimsy of most of the Lost Adventures are some incredibly beautiful, sad, or poignant moments that make the book just as worth your time as the main comics.  And to convince you, dear readers, to do so, I present to you my Top 6 Reasons to Read The Lost Adventures.  Enjoy! 

6. The return of Jin

            A minor, more personal reason to start off the list.  Anyone else remember the brief scene in Tales of Ba Sing Se where Zuko goes on a date with Jin, a regular Earth Kingdom girl?  I sure do.  It’s such a brief scene, and is easily overshadowed by the gut punch of Iroh’s song later on, but I find myself endlessly fascinated by it whenever I revisit that particular episode.  It’s a brief (and obviously futile) attempt by Zuko to approach some sense of normalcy in his life, and on top of that, it’s really the only time we see him interact one-on-one with a female character who lacks fierce bending or fighting prowess, and the obvious uncomfortableness and awkwardness that comes from that dichotomy has a lot of resonance for anyone who ever feels constrained when trying to deal with a “normal” situation they simply have no experience with.  So, for me, it was nice to see a small token of closure, after a fashion, for their brief moments together. 

5. Seeing the world and characters rendered in an impressive variety of art styles

            Even with the changes in animation studios during Korra, the look of the shows has changed very, very little since the show’s inception, so I especially liked seeing such a wide variety of artists with their own styles take a stab at depicting these characters, sometimes looking exactly like the show, and sometimes looking like something that dropped out of an alternate dimension.   In addition to Mike and Brian themselves, a total of 26 different writers and artists contributed their talents to the making of this particular series, and it’s a lot of fun noting the differences in style and picking out your favorite ones. 

4. Sokka tries to become a Fire Nation soldier…..and it is hilarious

            Out of all the bits in this comic, with the possible exception of my #1 pick on the list, this is the part I sincerely wish had become its own episode in the series.  While journeying through the Fire Nation in Book Three, Sokka gets a crazy idea (again) to join the Fire Nation army to get a sense for their organization and tactics.  And that right there should be enough for you to know what you’re getting from this story.  It is funny in all the right ways, plus it features the return of my beloved fake-beard-and-stache. 

3. We finally (briefly) get a face-off between Toph and Bumi

            Admit it, every one of you reading this always wondered what would happen if Toph and Bumi squared off against each other.  I know it, and you all know it too.  And believe it or not, it is within the pages of The Lost Adventures that we finally get an idea of what the two of them going at it might look like, and how freaking dangerous it would be for all concerned.  No, it doesn’t go on as long as I might have wished, but still, fanboy service delivered is fanboy service delivered. 

2. This look exchanged between Aang and Sokka (Combustion Man Story)

            The entire story in which this moment takes place is itself one of the better ones of the book- Aang and Sokka decide to hop onto a Fire Nation train for a brief joy ride during one of their traveling breaks.  Sadly, they soon find out they aren’t alone, as Combustion Man appears, again out of nowhere, in another effort to kill Aang. 

            This would be on the list anyway purely as a result of Combustion Man being in this one, since his handful of scenes were among my favorites in all of Book Three (what can I say, I love me some surly, silent villains).  The best part of the whole story, though, is the above look that Aang Sokka share for a brief moment after the magnitude of the danger to themselves and the innocent people with them becomes painfully clear- not only is Combustion Man clearly willing to kill anyone and everyone on the train if it means getting the Avatar, he has also wrought so much damage to the train that the brakes no longer work, and they then see that the train is heading for a massive gorge. 

            I think what makes this image so effective is how perfectly it captures every possible emotion they are feeling at that precise instant.  Worry for both themselves and the poor people caught in the middle of their fight.  Frustration and sadness that even the pleasure of a simple joyride, as long as the war lasts, is and will continue to be denied them.  Exhaustion at once again having to fight a battle neither of them asked for or even wanted.  And finally, most importantly, a steely determination to do the right thing and stop both Combustion Man and the train, even though the easier path would be for them to just cut and run.  It brilliantly sums up all of their experience and growth over the course of the story up to that point.  It’s just a great piece of artwork. 

1. The “Relics” Story

           Easily the darkest and most serious chapter in the book, rivaling anything seen in the show.  Aang comes across a trader in a small town selling what he realizes are genuine airbender artifacts.  After being told where he found them, he tracks down the location and sees promising signs that he may have discovered a genuine airbender hideout, where some of his people may still be alive. 

            To his painful dismay, however, he finds out it was just another trick of Zhou’s.  He used the trader and the artifacts he’d assembled at the hideout to draw the attention of the Avatar, knowing he could never resist the opportunity to find out if any of his people survived.  The really tragic part, though, is when Zhou reveals that this tactic was actually used a LOT in the early years of the war, and hints that a very large number of airbenders who initially escaped the assault on the temples were thus captured, and likely killed. 

            Aang uses his cleverness to escape, obviously, and he safely makes his way back to Katara and Sokka, but even then, the chapter ends on a somber and sad note, with Aang wondering how many of his people feel prey to such a gruesome trick.  It’s another example of the show’s writers refusing to shy away from many of the darker, more complex, and more difficult themes raised by the story, and it is, in my opinion, the biggest reason why anyone who considers themselves a fan of the show needs to check out The Lost Adventures. 

           

            And that is my list!  Next up will hopefully be a film review, followed by my personal ranking of all the Avengers movies that have been released thus far, because why not jump on that particular bandwagon?  Until next time, dear readers. 

-Noah Franc