An1meDweeb

Tl;Dr: "The Orbital Children" is a high-stakes adventure among the stars. A refreshing take on the disaster movie, TOC regularly introduces well-crafted conflicts that'll be sure to impress avid sci-fi fans. A compelling series of ethical dilemmas accompany our cast's survival story, which ramps up into a jaw-dropping climax of ear-grinningly epic proportions. TOC is occasionally hampered by unnatural patches of comedy and drops in pacing, but brilliant worldbuilding makes this series an immersive binge. 8/10~ *** "Mindblown." It's a sentiment that you'll likely be left with upon watching "The Orbital Children" (TOC). This brisk, 6-episode Netflix ONA is very much "Mindblown: The Anime." And no, I'm notjust referring to its tight mystery-thriller sci-fi script. While it relentlessly piles on ingenious worldbuilding and ethical dilemmas, TOC ultimately asks its audience to confront the value in confusion. What do we really know about the world around us? How do we face problems we can't solve individually? Is it worth seeking out the unknown? Take a chance on me and find out, as we take a spoiler-free leap into TOC. 3… 2… 1… we have liftoff! "Houston, we have a problem." In the year 2045, the manned space station and hotel, "Anshin," prepares a landing party for Earthling tourists sponsored by Deegle (any likeness shared with Google is purely coincidental.) Brilliant hacker Touya Sagami, one of the two remaining children born on the moon, is deeply resentful of the "idiot Earthers" he's hosting. That being said, just one party pooper isn't enough to dampen the excitement of the station's visitors: Taiyo, Mina and Hiroshi. But with a surprise comet en route to damage both the shuttle and the world below, perhaps it's no time to be "anshin-shiro" ("relieved" in Japanese.) Touya and the other personnel on-board have to do a lot more than just survive the cosmic onslaught. Uncovering the mystery surrounding the incoming comet will reveal a complex array of problems that puts the entire world at stake. TOC showcases great worldbuilding in outer space. Series creator Mitsuo Iso's vision of what the future will look like is equal parts fascinating and sobering. Throughout the course of this tightly-written survival story, viewers will be treated to a well thought-out futuristic setting. Technological devices within the show take full advantage of the whimsy sci-fi allows, while keeping things intuitive and easy to understand. Presumably to the delight of "VIVY" fans, artificial intelligence is explored in great detail, raising interesting considerations regarding how society should integrate with such powerful technology. The introduction of space travel offers more than mere set dressing, and opens up a recurring ethical dilemma about Earth's overpopulation & natural resource crises. Having recently sat through the sheer sci-fi stupidity of "BELLE", I was thoroughly impressed by how much better TOC fared in terms of establishing conflict and discussing what the future might hold. Also noteworthy is how TOC handles its characters. Despite shocking reveals and shifts in alliances, none of the cast members can be pinned down as a traditional "villain," and everyone is doing their utmost to deal with the cataclysmic chaos at hand. Even though the characters themselves scarcely feel all that developed personality-wise, they certainly get the job done through compelling personal motivations. Aside from some ill-timed comedy and poor patches of pacing, TOC makes for an engrossing binge, with a lean runtime of just over 3 hours. Production +h's debut studio effort does a capable job, thanks to capable 2D animation and compositing. However, with visual eye-candy comes visible confusion; TOC is not an easy show to grasp at times. The series may prove demanding due to its exposition of sci-fi and mystery elements. Furthermore, the frequent switching between narrative perspectives makes the task of keeping up with the show's heavy exposition all the more cumbersome. TOC might feel overwhelming with its themes and subject matter, but not without good reason. The series can be boiled down to an uplifting core message, which I'll now explain by bringing up the complex perspective of our MC, Touya. Space may as well be the final frontier, because it's all Touya has left. Remember what I said about MC hating humans? Well, we're about to get into why. In the past, human attempts at starting a moon colony would be thwarted due to the deaths of infants born there. This "moon sickness" throws off hormone development in the young, and needed treatment in the form of brain implants designed by the smartest A.I. of its time, Seven. These A.I. limiters would control hormone balance until adolescence, thereby allowing moon children to grow up. Unfortunately, the brain limiters could not be deactivated after childhood, meaning that the moon sickness these kids avoided as infants would kill them as teenagers. The only being capable of fixing this design flaw, Seven, was discarded for surpassing human control. No A.I. since reached Seven's massive computational capacity, due to rigid regulations on A.I. power. Plans to build civilization on the moon were eventually scrapped, dooming Touya to a deadly fate. From Touya's POV, the Earthers made him bear this curse, with no means of a cure, now that the A.I.s got nerfed. But our boy was born on the friggin' moon; he's not giving up that easily. In response to the world threatening his existence, Touya's goal is to hack away all of his A.I. drone's limiters and usher in the second coming of Seven. To Touya, this is the only way of saving him and Konoha, the only other moon child on-board the "Anshin." Now, let's take a step back from this lunar perspective and see the other side of the ethical coin. In stark contrast to the rebel hacker from outer space, the law-abiding UN agent Taiyo could not disagree more with Touya's worldview. Seven's deactivation followed after the out-of-control A.I. instigated several global incidents that cost hundreds of lives. A rogue A.I. mega-computer is the last thing governments would want to deal with, given the other problems on their plate. Overpopulation is threatening the end of the human race. Having lost control of the situation once before, the UN is intent on ensuring that all variables are kept in check, as the world assesses her dire options. Taiyo wouldn't dare risk causing another Seven Saga to occur, especially with a situation so critical. Then again, perhaps Touya's gambit of fully trusting A.I. may be the best solution, which both saves the world and repairs the malfunctioning implants. Touya's and Taiyo's ideologies are at polar opposites, and their respective resolves are iron-clad, even if both are trying to do the right thing. Is technology the threat or the solution? To further complicate things, maybe the best move is the utilitarian one, where the imminent comet is allowed to wipe out a third of the world's population, thereby preserving man's existence. What's the right answer? Confused? Same. In the beginning of this review, I said that this show is going for the "mindblown" effect. Hopefully I've demonstrated how the show lives up to that description, and we haven't even touched on TOC's esoteric stances on ethics, religion or predeterminism. The unorthodox climax of Episode 6 consists of quite possibly the most mind-boggling conceptual jargon I've ever heard, a plethora of which flew over my head like shooting stars. But as I said before, TOC also shows us the meaning in confusion. Confusion is possibly the most effective motivator we have for thinking. After all, if we never challenge ourselves with difficult questions, we'll never be motivated to develop our way of thinking or arrive at valuable answers. In TOC, a concept mentioned prominently is that of "the frame," or "the cradle." These terms can be read as "perspective." From young, each of us grew up seeing the world from our personal, unique frames. But just like peering out of a space shuttle window to look down on Earth, we eventually come to realize how small we are in the grand scheme of things, and how many other frames exist - we get "mindblown." Much like the orbiting children, we need to realize that our perspective isn't always enough to solve the most challenging of problems. The layered predicament facing the crew of the "Anshin" can only be solved through the integration of frames and open-minded collaboration. Touya needed to show empathy for the Earthers that he once considered ideological enemies. Taiyo needed to set aside his unflinching faith in the law, so that his friends could survive. Yes, confusion is inevitable, and we tend to fear what we do not understand. But the uncertainty could hold all the answers; sometimes you won't know unless you take a leap of faith and escape your frame. It's a great message for TOC to conclude on, as the show relishes the unknown opportunities of humanity's future amidst eminent problems. Watching Touya and the crew escape the frame of conventional thinking is a thrilling, cathartic experience - one that I'm hoping you try out for yourself. *** Phew, that was a fun trip. Thanks for joining me! If you happen to like my verbose rants, feel free to check out my other reviews for seasons past and present, peace~

MakkusuUnfilwin

I’ve been officially ordered to write something about this film, and in the process of doing so, have somehow mustered up enough willpower to slap together my scattered, disjointed thoughts into something vaguely coherent but still not all the way purposeful as a legitimate review of this film. Now, If I’m being honest, isn't that how all reviews should be? You don’t need someone to tell you if a show is worth watching. It’s actually possible to make those observations yourself. I apologize if that sounds abrasive, but I think some of you could stand to be a little more staunch in your opinions onsuch things. Now I'm meandering. On the to review—if you can call it that. Tragically, I’ve made the unfortunate mistake of not watching Dennou-coil before this, and as a result, I’m probably missing out on some referential pay-offs that the majority of you will be finger-pointing and giggling to yourselves over. Maybe that would have primed me towards the more technical aspects of this films world-building? But no matter. It’s not like I came to this film for its writing anyway. The visuals are what really got my attention—which is probably true for most of Orbital Children's audience, however, unlike most of Orbital Children's audience, the one name attached to this project that piqued my interest the most wasn't Iso's, it was Yoshida Kenichi. There’s something deep and primal that fires off in my brain when I see any form of artwork attached to his name, something deep and primal that resonates with my very soul, like the altered fucking beast. It’s hard to describe the exact quality his art invokes. All I know is that it’s incredibly appealing to look at. Take one glance at my list and it becomes clear the effect his designs have on the projects he’s been a part of. Eureka Seven: quite literally the closest thing to perfection in the medium. King Gainer: absolutely gorgeous and highly imaginative. And say what you will about G-Reco, but MAN are its visuals utterly spectacular. Yoshida’s prowess becomes even more obvious when you realize he’s a former Ghibli animator who got handed some of the most impressive cuts for the films he was a part of. His work on the dream/fairytale sequences in Whisper of the Heart is what initially comes to mind and, of course, the infamous Tanuki vs Riot Police scene from Pom Poko. Man is prolific; he's even got mocap credits for some of the Metal Gear Solid games (though, whether that's a mistake or not stands to be disproven, as both IMDb and ANN stand to corroborate the same info). Suffice to say, Yoshida is a master of his craft and his designs for Orbital Children are nonetheless stellar, even if most of them are more Takeshi Honda inspired than anything else, he still brings that patent quality I love his style for the most. By merely looking at it, my brain fires an ungodly amount of neurotransmitters through every possibly available synapse, you know, to really get the action potential flowing. So I hope that gives you an idea of how I feel about this guy's art. And that’s just the character designs. I’m sure no one was expecting less, given this film's incredibly long production cycle. So I’m probably as happy as anyone else to say that Iso delivered on all fronts. Orbital Children is a technical marvel that remains highly consistent with Iso’s usually consistency for consistence. Though, the detailed excellence of its visuals isn't really something I have to explain. It's visual, just look at it, it explains itself. My only complaint would be that there’s a lot of rather unexpected, shoddy character CG. And it usually comes up in scenes I’m sure could have been animated normally. Background character CG is fine, but a good lot of it’s foreground stuff. It’s a bit confusing as to why there’s so much of it, considering just how long the production cycle for this film was and how much of a visual perfectionist Iso is. It’s a relatively small nitpick. But if I had to nitpick about something, that’s what it’d be about. The passive world building and detailed minutia of the film is another high selling point for me. The whole hand-phone thing is ingenious. It serves as a great visual metaphor for a generation literally melding and assimilating with technology, mentally and physically. It also just looks damn cool as well. And the UNIQLO spacesuits are a nice touch; they’re a great way to show the unification of government enterprise and corporate commodification. It’s not even something brought to the forefront of the narrative, but it’s a great detail nonetheless. I love the way the helmets fold, all crinkled like a raincoat hood then expand to form a practical space helmet. It sells the idea that the suits are a fashion accessory second to a workable spacesuit. By far, my favourite aspect of Orbital Children (the fuck was up with the name localization anyway?) was its secondary commentary on streaming and “influencer” culture. Mina is an otherwise perfectly lovable girl. She provided some of the only moments of brevity throughout the absolute slog that was this films plot beats. But put her in front of a camera, and it becomes shockingly uncomfortable how that whole lifestyle has affected her as a developing adolescent. If you take one good look at the current generation, you’ll be quick to realize how many of them have been truly influenced by these “influencers”. It’s not just a goofy name; it’s the most literal definition of what it is they do. They influence. And who’s the most easily influenced group of society? Kids. That's the most unnerving thing these influencers do: they pass on the virus so that these vulnerable kids end up unknowingly repeating the cycle. A cycle that becomes a constant encouragement to broadcast what most closely resembles a twenty-four hour live stream of their lives—as one notable member of that group famously put. You see what’s happening; I’m doing the same thing. Now I’m getting off-topic. Livestreaming—in other words: social media—is a blight that turns otherwise lovable girls into complete and utter narcissists, obsessed with the idea that everyone genuinely cares about every minute, mediocre, vapid detail of their lives. At every opportunity she gets, Mina is compelled to televise her every predicament. Even when she’s in legitimate danger, undermining her life in the process. She’s unwittingly belittling herself for an audience of faceless, invisible nobodies. Who lack the talent to do anything meaningful with their lives, so they live vicariously through whichever charisma vacuum makes themselves the most readily available. Well, in the film, it’s portrayed more in the way of archiving and disseminating an unprecedented global incident. But to Mina, what matters most is if or not that number counter goes up. So, my point still stands. The fact that her name is Miina also raises a few eyebrows. I really don’t have anything insightful, or meaningful, or interesting, or intelligent to say about this film's plot. One glance at it and my brain convinces me that it’s just indecipherable technobabble. Thankfully though, it’s not. There’s quite a bit to look into and interoperate. I can’t say most of it—or any of it—is all that innovative. But the way the concepts are presented makes it feel somewhat fresh. The use of the terms “frame” and “cradle” as analogies for viewpoint and security was odd, but I can appreciate what it was trying to do. A lot of it’s pretty easy to grasp, and I think most people will be able to come away from the film understanding most of its core concepts. There’s a lot of great stuff buried in the script; man-made gods, social malaise, dependence on technology, ideological extremism, foreordainment, predetermination. All solid stuff. Though its notions of utilitarianism feel lifted straight from Char’s Counterattack. But it's fine. Iso dresses it up nicely enough that I don’t care. There are some pretty good subversions too. I originally pinned it to be about the hubris of man and the pitfalls of technological advancement. Only for it to heel turn in the opposite direction and propagate the same idea we’ve all heard so many times before: robots simply need to understand humans and the day is saved. Which I’m perfectly fine with; it was all done in a way that kept me relatively engaged. However, you can’t escape the fact that there’s some utterly retarded shit thrown in there. Science 2.0? UN 2.1? What? That’s some EVA imaginary levels of stupidity. And there’s no way that thinking in the “11th dimension” isn’t satire. It felt like the script turned into needlessly complicated jargon for the sake of having needlessly complicated jargon. Or maybe I really just don’t get it. This is probably what most of you felt like after watching Innocence, which was so frighteningly easy for me to understand, given the fact I enjoyed every minuscule aspect of it. Unfortunately, that’s not something I can honestly say about Orbital Children. Despite everything great going for it, I feel a bit disappointed I couldn’t connect emotionally with any of the cast. There were almost no emotional stakes for me from start to finish. Maybe I’m just not who this film was meant for? Though, I doubt that’s the case. I recently sat through the Moominvalley film, which is ostensibly a series for kids, and found myself in tears by the end of it. So no, I doubt that I couldn’t connect with the cast based on something like wrong age demographic. I can only think of one reason why, and it’s probably because every other aspect of the film was prioritized instead, leaving the cast feeling rather basic, placid and unmemorable compared to everything else the film has to offer. Which is of a constant high quality. I think the issue could have been remedied if Iso gave the project some breadth and opted for an 11-12 episode anime format. It would have allowed for some breathing room and more time to acclimate to the cast and setting. That would have been optimal but in no way discredits the format Iso chose to present his project. It works; it just could have been better. Have you noticed how I’ve been using the terms “film” and “movie” to categorize Orbital children? Y’know, the media format that it is. Well, in Netflix’s insufferable mission to rape any anime they get their hands on (thanks for that one), they’ve completely bastardised the way the film was intended to be viewed. Leaving the already boorish pacing even more of a slog to wade through. It does nothing but damage to the overall product, given that moments of legitimate narrative suspense are cut short and segregated by a fucking ED!? MID FILM!? Maybe once is fine; End of Eva and all. But six times!? Why? I imagine the way Japanese cinemas are airing the film—in two feature-length parts—alleviates most of my issues with Netflix's binge-centric design philosophy. To summarise, I thoroughly enjoyed Orbital Children. It was well worth the wait—even if I didn’t have to wait nearly as long as some people. A lot of my enjoyment can probably be chalked up to my slavish devotion to Yoshida. But disregarding that, the film is genuinely a blast to sit through, minus my aforementioned issues with its pacing. Merely taking in the films mindboggling presentation makes the ride absolutely worth it. The script isn’t anything revolutionary, but it’s competent enough to maintain interest all the way through. I’d say I’m due for a rewatch at some point, just to completely solidify my thoughts on it all. I doubt Orbital Children will be remembered as a modern classic in the same way Your Name or A Silent Voice is. But the bottom line is that it should be. Unlike those films, there's a lot to appreciate Orbital Children for, and I consider it a work of auteurism. Nobody but Iso could have made this, and I'm happy I was able to see it.