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1984 • Birth

Bāsu

— Brian Ruh —

Animation has been described by the director Charlie Kauffman as “a series of still images put together to create the illusion of movement.” Although this is a rather simple way of putting it, sometimes it’s a good thing to keep the basics in mind when approaching an animated work. Every image, every angle was put there by a person working within a complex division of labor in order to generate the finished product flashing by on our screens.

In the best animated films, the story, narrative, and visuals come together in order to create a work that is not only visually sophisticated, but gains more depth upon repeated viewings and reflection upon its themes. However, sometimes a piece of animation is most notable for the animation itself. Such is the case with Birth, an OVA (Original Video Animation) from 1984 that is a standout when it comes to the craft of animation, but unfortunately falls short in the storytelling department.

There’s certainly something to be said for a work that imparts the kind of visceral thrill that Birth does, even though it’s far from the slickest or most meaningful production. However, it’s a film in which you can really sense the skill of the animators. Although it was directed by Shinya Sadamitsu, this really feels like Yoshinori Kanada’s film, as he was the animation director and character designer. Kanada’s dynamic style would go on to inspire and influence a generation of animators, as well as artist Takeshi Murakami. Other key collaborators on Birth include animators Hideaki Anno (future director of Neon Genesis Evangelion) and Mahiro Maeda (future director of Blue Submarine No. 6, on which Kanada would serve as a key animator). It also features a great 1980s synth soundtrack from frequent Hayao Miyazaki collaborator Joe Hisaishi.

In its pre-title sequence, Birth begins on a rocky, alien world, focusing on a small blob-like creature fleeing from a larger example of the native fauna. It then takes refuge atop a spacesuit-clad girl on a hover scooter, who’s later chased by a large black sphere. Unfortunately, such descriptions do not do justice to these scenes, which convey weight and movement so impressively. The camera makes full use of the variable terrain, in constant movement and motion through the chase scenes. Such animation is made all the more remarkable when one remembers that such scenes are rendered by hand, with none of the CG work that would be used if one were trying to replicate something similar these days. It’s a fantastic use of perspective and flow that really showcases the kind of work possible in the medium of animation.

From this initial introduction to the central world of Birth, we then venture into space where we’re introduced to Bao and Kim, who are in their run-down ship, chasing a mysterious glowing sword called Shade that they think will garner them a lot of money. Back on the planet, the girl we saw earlier, Rasa, is out from her village riding her floater bike (a kind of hovering scooter) to bring her brother Nam his breakfast because he’d forgotten it that morning. Nam sees the Shade sword land on their planet, but when he goes to investigate he sees a beautiful, ghostly woman called Arlia who introduces herself and promptly vanishes. A sphere that looks like the one he’d been chasing shows up and hatches an inorganic creature, who begins trying to fight Nam. Rasa is chased by a gang of inorganic bikers, meets up with Nam along the way, and is saved at the last minute by the arrival of Bao and his ship. Arlia appears again and explains that the universe is a life form, and that there is a battle between organics and inorganics for its fate. The Shade sword contains a great amount of life energy and consciousness, and it’s a tool created by the universe for destroying the inorganics. After this revelation, she disappears again and another inorganic begins chasing them, calling out names of fruits and vegetables with each attack. They decide to flee to an old underground city that was destroyed in a nuclear strike, where Bao looks for the ultimate weapon against the inorganics.

As one might be able to tell from this description, the story of Birth doesn’t really hold together, and has little internal logic. Why would the universe impart consciousness into something like a sword? What is supposed to be done with it? And once it’s been acquired, why would our protagonists need to go on another quest for a different weapon, which is so dangerous they shouldn’t try to use it anyway?

Additionally, the overall conflict between organic and inorganic strikes an odd tone. At the point when the film says the inorganics need to be destroyed, they haven’t been shown to be anything more than an annoyance and certainly not anything that a universal consciousness would concern itself with. Perhaps even more disturbing, in one early oddly-placed scene, we are shown the melancholy of a young inorganic after Rasa spurns his childish advances. The inorganics aren’t shown as enemies of organic life as much as annoyances, and in fact have rich inner lives. This isn’t to say the film necessarily needed to resolve the conflict between the two types of life as much as it needed to explain its setup, other than as a bare hanger upon which to hang a stylishly extravagant suit of animation.

In the end, while some individual scenes are well-constructed and display a fantastic use of fluid movement throughout, the film as a whole doesn’t really hold together. There are sometimes baffling transitions from one scene to the next because it can’t seem to settle on a single storyline to pursue. The loose plot only serves as justification for the fantastic scenes of running, flying, and exploding. However, I would argue that there is not necessarily anything wrong with that. Disdain for the conventions of narrative and storytelling in Birth (whether intentional or not) result in a finished work that communicates a sense of freedom through its expressive animation.

Brian Ruh is an independent scholar with a PhD in Communication and Culture from Indiana University. He is the author of Stray Dog of Anime: The Films of Mamoru Oshii.