Читать книгу Anime Impact - Chris Stuckmann - Страница 25
ОглавлениеÔritsu uchûgun: Oneamisu no tsubasa
— John Rodriguez —
Is technology driving you away from God?
Wow, yeah, my apologies. You weren’t expecting things to get so heavy so quickly, were you? That was probably uncalled for, but roll with me for a moment, if you will. I realize my question is predicated on the assumption that you even believe in God, and that’s probably an unwise assumption to make. Maybe you don’t believe. It sure isn’t my place to preach at you if so. But, if you do believe, then maybe think about it a moment. Does the technology ensconcing you daily leave you feeling closer or further from God?
I ask because that’s the question at the heart of Wings of Honnêamise. And while it might seem like pointless pondering, I’d argue it’s a question that’s more relevant today than ever.
Wings of Honnêamise chronicles the space race between two fictional nations on an alternate-reality Earth. Not that it’s shaping up as much of a sprint. The Republic, our antagonists, don’t even have a space program of their own. Meanwhile, the Honnêamise nation only funds their Space Force because the general whose passion project it is has ties to the royal family. Space Force is a joke, and its members are punchlines apt to reach abrupt ends when their test rockets explode under them.
Even the soldiers of Space Force scorn Space Force, and none more so than Shirotsugh Lhadatt, a ne’er-do-well who can’t even bother to show up on time or in uniform for his recently exploded mate’s funeral. Space Force is just a paycheck to Shirotsugh, but things change the night he hears Riquinni Nonderaiko preaching God’s word to uninterested passersby. Smitten, Shirotsugh visits Riquinni at her home, where he becomes inspired by Riquinni’s vision of a peaceful future for humanity among the stars. Thus inspired, he volunteers for Space Force’s ultimate test flight—one that will make him a Honnêamise hero and spark a war with the jealous Republic.
If there’s one singular theme running through Wings of Honnêamise, it’s this: Ain’t nothing wonderful God never made that mankind can’t ef up.
Riquinni is a particularly common delivery mechanism for this message. In one telling scene, a dispirited Shirotsugh turns off his TV and picks up the holy book given him by Riquinni. In it, he reads a story of the earliest days and a man who stole fire from God, thus causing the deaths of his seven sons. These seven become the first human deaths in the world. Death from there on became the curse of mankind—all because we couldn’t leave well enough alone.
Seriously, we are the worst.
Other examples of this abound. I review Hayao Miyazaki’s The Wind Rises elsewhere in this book, and I was struck by how Wings of Honnêamise can be viewed as that film’s logical continuation. Wind’s protagonist, Jiro Horikoshi, is also engaged in the development of an advanced flying craft. But where Mr. Miyazaki abruptly ends Jiro’s tale once he succeeded in building the famous Zero fighter, Wings carries things forward from there. Notably, it shows the ramifications of the pursuit of progress. You get to see the frustration of the unemployed watching funds that might have helped them get back on their feet get funneled into a likely pipe dream. You get to hear the concerns that, even if humanity does make it into space, it will only open the door to further militarization.
Because—repeat it now with me, friends—we are the worst.
There’s a sense in Wings of Honnêamise of the technological crowding out the theological. The devout Riquinni, for instance, gets her home bulldozed out from under her just as Space Force is beginning to flourish. You can almost see the accusation in the eyes of Riquinni’s Children of the Corn-like sister’s perpetual frown. It’s as if she’s saying: You did this, all of you. You and your violence. You and your progress.
Which raises the question: is Shirotsugh really a good guy? He’s the face of Space Force, after all, and for all its noble ambitions, Space Force has caused a lot of grief for a lot of souls. So, is he a good guy, or is he maybe a bad guy? It’s a question Shirotsugh himself poses at one point. And now we need to talk about what prompts Shirotsugh’s navel-gazing …
That scene. Oh, that scene.
You know which one I’m talking about if you’ve already seen Wings of Honnêamise. If you haven’t, then let me warn you that there’s a scene midway through the film where Shirotsugh attempts to force himself on the virtuous Riquinni. It’s a neck-breaker of a tonal shift, completely out of the blue … and appropriate to instill the film’s harsh message, I would argue.
Yes, I know this view isn’t in line with many who’ve seen Wings of Honnêamise, and yes, I understand that any depiction of rape—even a failed rape—constitutes a nonstarter for plenty of people. That’s fair. But I disagree with the notion that this scene has no place in an otherwise masterful film. Instead, I would argue that it’s the ultimate confirmation of what Wings of Honnêamise has been preaching to us from the start: You’re gonna ef it up, son. I gave you something pure and good, and you can’t help but ef it up. It’s a brutal means of delivery, but the message is certainly on point.
And Riquinni’s reaction to Shirotsugh the next day is also on point. Rather than cast him out or fly at him with fists clenched—actions she’d be entirely justified in taking—she apologizes to Shirotsugh for hitting him. You read that right: Riquinni apologizes to her would-be rapist! Is this some sick joke?
Not at all. It’s the other side of Wings of Honnêamise’s thematic coin. Yes, humanity’s history is one of mucking up the good and the pure. But if there’s hope for us, then it lies in our willingness to turn the other cheek, even when we’re rightfully aggrieved. Because if we’re not working hand in hand to craft a better future for ourselves, we’re doomed to continue our perpetual cycle of build/ruin/rinse/repeat.
Space Force’s new rocket ultimately provokes an all-out invasion by the Republic. Of course it does. That’s partly what technology represents in Wings of Honnêamise: an excuse to give into our worst impulses. Yet Space Force’s rocket also represents a dream of a brighter future. That rocket just might lead humanity to the stars. And once you’ve made it there, who says you’re bound to the ugly cycles of history? Who says you can’t start anew?
So much of the technology we interact with daily insulates rather than inspires. It has us looking down instead of up. That’s a shame, because up is the direction where, just maybe, we’d catch a glimpse of the divine. Not that you need buy into that to take something from Wings of Honnêamise. Not at all. You just need to want to do your part to get people looking forward instead of back. And perhaps to be willing to forgive when your fellow man invariably ef’s up your pure and good designs.
Because he will. We are, after all, the worst. But maybe we don’t have to be forever.
John Rodriguez is a personal trainer whose devotion to physical fitness is exceeded only by his fervor for all things film and literature. John is currently finishing his first novel—a fantasy that’s sparked fantasies of a challenging new career.
