Strange Dawn Anime Review

Quick Review

• Reviewer: Marc
• Review Date: 2004-06-13 (updated 2012-10-18)
• 4 stars out of 5 (?)

Strange Dawn is indeed very strange. On the surface it looks like any of a dozen fantasy-transplant-type anime series, but it's presented in an utterly straight-faced manner, with as much realism as the odd premise permits. The girls are thoroughly modern, disinterested, and have no special abilities whatsoever, the cute little folk have a wide variety of nuanced, well-developed personalities and plenty of very adult problems and flaws, and the world is on the brink of a war between several different factions with no clear good or bad guys. It's an odd idea, but the juxtaposition gives viewpoints easily dismissed as simplistic and childish more weight than those of leaders and warriors, shining light on how equally petty and silly both modern teenagers and adults, with all their layers of deception and tradition, are. Creative touches abound, from the design of the world to the fine art to the beautiful soundtrack. It's just a shame it ends by completely (and intentionally) dropping the plot in a maddeningly frustrating anti-climax just as it seems to be getting going. The only other rough spots are the information overload of the multitude of subplots, and a bizarre English dub with a mishmash of accents--stick to the Japanese version.

Strange Dawn is a fascinating series, and not for the children's audience Urban Vision apparently decided to (mis-)target it at. It's too offbeat to be for everybody, the non-ending is maddeningly abrupt, and it takes some getting used to, but as a fan of creativity and colorful, detailed fantasy worlds and cultures, I couldn't have enjoyed it more for as long as it lasts.

Read the full-length review...

Full Review

• Reviewer: Marc
• Review Date: 2004-06-13 (updated 2012-10-18)
• 4 stars out of 5 (?)

Strange Dawn may sound generic, but this backhandedly clever series is anything but. A fascinating, involved allegorical drama with a complex, all-too-human cast, it is uniquely engrossing right up to the maddeningly abrupt end.

The series' insulting anticlimax colors the entire experience of watching it, but creator-director Junichi Sato is doing, and saying, so much that I want to walk through what makes it riveting before coming back to its one spectacular, catastrophic flaw.

An allegory of complexity

Strange Dawn is, boiled down, an exploration of human complexity disguised as simple fantasy, and it's an impressive disguise. Despite the tired concept--high school girls get sucked into fantasy world filled with pint-sized people who think they're saviors--it declares right out of the gate that it's not going to play by the rules. It immediately throws its pragmatic, uncomfortably modern protagonists into the middle of a Byzantine web of politics, religion, and military ambition.

Anti-heroes

The two humans alone would be enough to set the series apart from its fantasy-transplant kin. Lacking any special abilities other than being relatively large, the two are ill-equipped to deal with the mess that their status as religious icons has thrust them into.

Meek Eri is at least nice enough to want to help, but she's almost paralyzed by timidity and indecisiveness. The problems are so far beyond the scope of her experience and ability that this actually works for a change. Yuko is the polar opposite--abrasive, harsh, and more concerned with the fact that her cell phone doesn't work than helping anybody. She's extreme enough--yet all too believable--that she's somewhere between a villain-by-apathy and an anti-hero.

Their relative realism is both entertaining and appealing--everything from culture clash to usually ignored things like what to do about feminine hygiene if they're going to be stuck there for a while.

Munchkin culture shock

Contrasting with these two are the munchkins that inhabit the world and revere them. They look cute, but it quickly becomes apparent they're anything but--we're introduced to realistic culture, sexual taboos, international politics, and looming war. Once you manage to get past the fact that the only thing funny about them is the way they look, the exploration of a well-realized fantasy world and large cast of colorful characters is thoroughly entertaining.

There are Mani and Reca, two headstrong village girls; Shall, a once-proud warrior who has fallen from grace for the sake of love; Shall's icy brother Shura; the good-hearted but bumbling Beret and his nonchalant sidekick for comic relief; two manipulative military leaders intent on fomenting a boarder war; a drunken, self-serving general and his army; and the blindly ambitious head of the village guards. Each has their own motives, and the variety of individual ambitions intertwine to make a complicated web of relationships and intrigue, on both a personal scale and in the tides of war.

One of the pervading themes--probably the central one of the whole series--is the complexity of human nature. None of the characters are simply good or bad, and even the heroes are flawed, many deeply so. This means that the main characters, particularly Yuko, aren't what you'd call likable. It's hard to call it a fault, since their frustrating and abrasive personalities are a big part of what makes the series fresh, realistic, and unpredictable. The only real negative is that the characterization suffers a bit from lack of time; it's easy to miss the subtleties unless you pay close attention or watch it more than once.

Covert sociology-by-contrast

Also hiding in plain sight is the reason it makes itself work so hard just to make you take the cute little people seriously. The series runs on the juxtaposition of big, normal-looking kids with their narrow, simple worldview and little, silly people with big, complex problems. It serves as a clever way to draw into sharp focus both childish innocence and adult problems.

Through the humans, it puts the words of children into the mouths of gods, making their simple, obvious wisdom seem more important than adult pretense and all the trappings of society built up around it. Conversely, it implicitly bemoans the shallow, self-centered behavior of modern youth.

And, through the locals, it challenges the viewer to take "simple" people--little, primitive critters with silly religious beliefs--seriously. They have big, complex problems, and real, human desires and personalities. Simultaneously, on the flip side of that, it reduces big, complex situations--wars and political power-grabs--to the absurdity they are, by casting them as little things fighting each other over inflated pomp.¹

Basically, it's a series that manages to both deconstruct and pay homage to childishness and adult responsibility, all without a single monologue or out-of-character speech. It also examines the often sad reality of how religion is used and abused, without insulting it; some follow unswervingly, some question it, others manipulate it into a tool of control.

For all that sociology, it's truly impressive how well everything comes together as a story--the collection of characters with their various motives and flaws, the political drama, the detailed presentation of a different culture, and intriguing hints of some greater power at work.

The message is the problem

But there are two problems caused by the series' devotion to its message, one moderate and the other huge.

Once it gets going, there are usually two or three parallel subplots underway, amid a glut of characters and intrigues packed with subtext and detail; the information overload makes it easy to get lost. A bit of the blame falls on the flow of the story, which stumbles in places and rushes very good scenes elsewhere. Mostly, though, it's a necessity to get at what the series is saying; the two strangers in a Strange land aren't following the details closely, either, and I expect we're supposed to join them in feeling lost amid all these little folks and their big problems.

The brick wall at the finish line

That actually worked for me. The real issue is how it ends. Or, rather, how it doesn't. Strange Dawn spends a full season establishing the multitude of players and a sprawling web of interesting, intertwined, seemingly intractable problems, plus hints of whatever supernatural force set everything in motion. Then, just when things are about to really get interesting, you realize there's exactly one episode left in which to wrap it all up. One episode that, unsurprisingly, is a chaotic jumble that ends even more abruptly than the series started. It doesn't just drop sub-plots, it drops the plot, full-stop, and leaves about a half dozen major things previously hinted at completely unexplored.

You could charitably call this frustrating, but it's more accurate to call it a maddeningly inconclusive narrative punch in the face. If an open-ended finale is like a meal without dessert, Strage Dawn is like watching chef Junichi Sato prepare a fabulous feast, then having him close the restaurant right before the main course is served to make a point.

Incredibly enough, Sato did this intentionally.² In the ultimate statement of Strange Dawn's backhanded creativity, the non-conclusion is part of its message: There simply are no easy answers (perhaps no answers at all) to the big questions.

While I can appreciate the artistic concept, it is a terrible idea in a series so intricately constructed. It's frustrating enough to get a bunch of tantalizing hints about future twists that don't happen, and downright insulting to make a viewer invest that much effort following a plot that gets abandoned halfway through.

Subtly exotic art and music

At least it looks great, right from the beautiful opening credit sequence. The character art is attractive on the two human girls, and although the rest of the cast are intentionally simply drawn, they make up for it in personality and interesting design features. The background art, depicting a mostly-Earth-like but slightly alien world, is gorgeous--despite being painted loosely, it feels rich and subtly exotic. The animation, which isn't terribly expensive, is the closest thing to a weak point, but thanks in part to well-done character animation and the quality of the artwork, it isn't a noticeable issue.

The uniformly spectacular soundtrack is by Kaoru Wada, the composer of the equally lovely Record of Lodoss War TV series soundtrack. The rich score has a slightly exotic lilt and haunting vocalizations that match the scenery and setting perfectly. The beautifully lyrical opening, sung by the late Eri Kawai, deserves a place among Wada's epic fantasy songs for the Lodoss series. The only blemish is a lame end theme sung (badly) by the two female leads.

Japanese, okay...

The acting in Japanese is mostly solid. The weak point is Eri, the first and (perhaps unsurprisingly) only voice role by Shouko Enomoto; she does well at sounding meek and hesitant, but is also a bit too stereotyped, and some of her emotional scenes are very flat. Her counterpart, the talented Kaori Shimizu as Yuko, makes up for it by being surprisingly abrasive. The rest of the large cast is consistently well-voiced, though there aren't any particular standouts.

...Dub, weird

The English dub is... well, strange, and not in a good way. Made up entirely of voice-acting unknowns, most of whom sound Australian, the casting is uneven at best (gruff Beret apparently voiced by a woman?), and the editing and dialogue are awkward. The mishmash of accents is another issue. For example, of the two girls from the same small village, one has what sounds like a French accent and the other sounds like she might be American, except she pronounced "hostages" in what I can only assume is the British way ("hoe-stages" instead of "haw-stages"). Yuko is the worst of it, though--voiced by singer Donna Burke (the only person in the cast I'd heard of), I couldn't get past the fact that she sounds about three times older than the character onscreen. The only notably good performance is Rob Narita, who gives Shall an even, appropriately stoic voice. The overall effect is sort of bizarre, and I really don't recommend the dub for anything other than a laugh.

Frustrated conclusion

In all, Strange Dawn is a strange but fascinating series. It's too offbeat to be for everybody (certainly not the children's audience Urban Vision decided to (mis-)target it at), and the conclusion is maddeningly abrupt, but as a fan of creativity and colorful, detailed fantasy worlds and cultures, I couldn't have enjoyed it more, right up to the botched end. It takes some getting used to, and the non-end is a crying shame, but it's an impressive work that deserved a lot more attention than it garnered.

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Related Recommendations

Twelve Kingdoms, though darker and more overtly supernatural, is in ways the closest parallel; it has similarly realistic main characters, a very different and highly unfriendly but equally realistic alternate world to transplant them into, and a lot of political intrigue. There are dozens of other fantasy shows with the same premise, but none really have that much in common; the closest matches would be the similarly good-until-the-end Vision of Escaflowne and the really bad Garzey's Wing. To a lesser extent there's also some similarity with classic fantasy shows like Record of Lodoss War: Chronicle of the Heroic Knight.