Today we’re returning to The Woman Called Fujiko Mine! The show’s first episode was pretty stunning in all regards, from its gorgeous and utterly idiosyncratic art design to its sharp-edged spin on the Lupin mythos. Lupin isn’t a dreamy, dashing rogue here – he’s kind of a shithead actually, a dude who gleefully refuses to see Fujiko as a legitimate rival, and who simultaneously condemns her for relying on her beauty while lusting after that beauty at all times. Basically, this Lupin is exactly the kind of guy you’d expect to be a self-obsessed master thief, and Fujiko is a weary but driven heroine in a world designed to deny her. From its echoes of Belladonna of Sadness to its over-the-top heist sequences, Fujiko Mine is defined by a salacious arthouse-slash-grindhouse kind of cool, and though I could easily see the production toppling under the difficulty of consistently animating these wild designs, everything in that first episode was carried out with beauty and style. Let’s dive right into the second episode of Yamamoto’s The Woman Called Fujiko Mine!
Episode 2
Ah, so that stylized opening sequence is essentially this show’s “OP,” and will return each episode. It certainly reminds me of other Yamamoto OP/ED projects, like her excellent ending sequence for the first season of Rage of Bahamut. Yamamoto seems to have a great sense for ornately constructed layouts, something that fits most naturally into more interpretive OPs/EDs, but which also guides the show’s arresting overall storyboards
Having seen the first episode, this monologue seems to directly meditate on the contradictions in how Fujiko is viewed. “Punish me, kill me” contrasted against “save me,” directions for coveting her bookended with “but first, cease all else and let only your heart stir.” Fujiko seems to acknowledge many will treat her as an object, and finds some sort of identity of her own in that fact
Some beautiful backgrounds as we’re introduced to a casino. Yamamoto seems fond of introducing new settings through a mixture of a consistent slow pan in and quick cuts to incidental motions, like the hands grasping at their cult leader in the first episode or the cards being tossed on the table here. It grants a sort of visual melody to the introduction of a new setting, and though it’s a common trick, it’s also something that stands out consistently in Watanabe’s productions, too
Fujiko seems to be running the table. This show seems happy to lean on spy/heist film cliches when appropriate
The owner approaches, another beautiful woman. She proposes betting the whole casino
God, the shading in this show is fascinating. I can’t think of another show I’ve seen that relies on what are essentially black chalk scribbles, with no sense of consistent tone to them at all. It works very well, and makes me wish more shows would get a little interpretive in their visual style – obviously TV anime productions can’t all be The Tale of Princess Kaguya, but simply disregarding a few assumptions about cohesive, naturalistic aesthetics could result in some very compelling looks
Of course, this show’s style actually does feel cohesive, it just coheres around a more stylized and illustration-ready aesthetic than most anime. It’s not like Kuuchuu Buranko – it strives for a unified composition, and generally succeeds
“Bet yourself. Your beauty is an equally high price.” Once again, Fujiko is immediately turned into a commodity in this world
And the two of them bet on the roulette wheel. I know heist and spy films have normalized this, but man, why do all these high stakes gambling exchanges end up centering on events that are basically just coin flips
Of course, one of the answers here is “this sequence is just designed to get Fujiko upstairs, there’s no time or need for an actual battle” so I suppose it makes sense this time
“If you grant me two wishes, I’m willing to set you free.” Freedom versus entrapment seems like a meaningful thread here
She’s commissioned to steal a gun. I guess that explains the “.357 Magnum” episode title
These episodes really move at a snappy pace. Yamamoto knows how to deftly stride through these genre staples as quickly and cleanly as possible
Jigen Daisuke has the gun. So this is how we introduce Jigen – once again, the show finds a way to have Fujiko directly cross swords with one of the Lupin staples. Fujiko wouldn’t normally waste time hunting a bodyguard, but this casino conceit gives her a reason to fight him
“His one weakness is women.” As with Lupin, I’m guessing Jigen won’t see a woman as an equal foe
“I’ll destroy the man who killed my husband and went over the enemy with my own hands.” And this powerful woman aims to destroy him
“Lin Chin-Chin is auditioning mistresses.” Again, Fujiko is able to fully infiltrate her target because women just aren’t taken seriously in this world
“Babysitting women ain’t part of the bodyguard’s job description.” Yeah, Jigen seems to immediately resent Fujiko’s presence
Fujiko attempts to seduce him. “Are you afraid of the boss? Or just spineless?” “I just hate women, I’m afraid”
Jigen’s position here is very reasonable so far. He has no reason to trust Fujiko, and a whole lot of reasons to distrust her, particularly given how randomly and aggressively she’s pursuing him. The boss’s mistress attempting to immediately seduce the boss’s bodyguard rings all sorts of alarm bells
This Chinese mafia boss mansion allows for some really beautiful sets. Fujiko Mine’s very ornate art style matches nicely with all these incredibly luxurious personal mansions, and obviously a story about thieves will end up featuring a lot of fancy palaces and mansions. The design and narrative priorities match up nicely in that way
Now we jump into Jigen’s backstory, detailing his journey through the casino boss’s employ. The boss’s wife, the woman who hired Fujiko, laments how she “can’t trust anyone.” This episode is consistently returning to this idea of trust, but trust doesn’t seem like it’d something that would hold much weight in a show like this
“Everybody’s got a glimmer of feeling, no matter how hard-hearted they seem. Everybody’s got a glimmer of hope, however disgusted with life they seem.” Jigen’s a poet. I like him a lot more than I like this show’s Lupin
Ah, so she attempted suicide
Lots of overwhelmingly large compositions that dwarf Jigen, impressing on us the power of his employer and the icy anonymity of his domain
This Jigen backstory is all pretty archetypal stuff – the “stone-faced bodyguard whose facade is melted by his beautiful kept woman target” is boilerplate, and this episode isn’t really doing much to add complexity to Jigen’s feelings. One of the limitations of a show this focused on a very familiar and theatrical style; it’s hard to create scenes that feel genuinely intimate and emotionally revealing, not just iconic or thrilling
Jigen is defeated. Fujiko takes a clean win this time
“I’ll be waiting for you in the place we made love.” There’s a welcome messiness to this episode’s gender politics, even if its overarching story beats are as familiar as they come. Who is defined as “strong” seems like a variable thing
Cicciolina initially seduced Jigen in a coffin, underlining how she always feels like she’s living on the verge of death. Only being in someone’s arms or almost dying seem to move her
We pretty much only see Jigen’s eyes clearly when he’s forced into emotional honesty by this woman. A very neat trick of his design
“If you love me, then kill me.” A line that seems to echo Fujiko’s opening monologue, reflecting on how love, possession, and destruction all intertwine
Ah, she actually shot her husband, and Jigen covered for her
And Cicciolina was actually sleeping with the other bodyguard. Jigen has every reason to resent her, but she was also simply using the powers available to her in her position as a kept woman. Again, messiness, no easy hero or villain, and the ways men and women are able to interact with each other make it all the more ambiguous
“I’ve finally met a woman worth wanting to kill.” That line pretty perfectly sums up Fujiko Mine’s wild gender politics – women are casually treated as idols or monsters, but earning the right to be considered a fellow killer or thief by these men is much harder
Alright, this scene absolutely has to be a riff on Ballad of Fallen Angels, the fifth Cowboy Bebop episode. Not only is the leadup exactly the same (our suited hero drives to a final church showdown with an old compatriot as a melancholy insert song plays and we’re treated to visions of their past life together), but the actual shots used as Jigen exchanges bullets with these men perfectly echo Spike’s duel with Vicious’s henchmen. There’s the run down the aisle, the profile shot to the side, the man at the stained glass windows falling, the perspective shot where a henchman pans over smoke while trying to get a bead on his target, etc. This is a direct homage to one of Yamamoto’s mentors
“I meant to use you. But somewhere along the way, you became my only hope.” This is a very standard narrative, but I find how it reflects both their personal and social identities to be pretty fascinating. Cicciolina’s attempts to overthrow this world’s order were thwarted by her own sensitivity, leading her to see no exit but self-destruction. And she chooses to have Jigen accomplish that, after forcing him to “acknowledge” her with a line like “I’ve finally met a woman worth killing”
“I’ll outrun any past that tries to kill me.” Welp, that sure implies a lot
“I’m getting out of the killing business myself. A moment’s hesitation can kill you. Get emotionally involved, and you’re done for.” And now Jigen’s own acknowledgment of his sensitivity leads him to abandon this work, where anything outside of a strong and emotionless front is heavily discouraged. That assumption likely feeds into how Fujiko is disparaged for her own methods, which take advantage of how these appearances of strength are a flimsy facade, and revel in our underlying emotional nature and emotional weaknesses
And Done
Whew, that was an interesting one. In terms of its overarching narrative beats, it was archetypal to the point of cliche, offering a story of crime, lovers, and betrayal we’ve all seen before. In terms of its stylistic choices, it aped Watanabe’s big productions to the point where it felt like an overt love letter to Cowboy Bebop’s similarly archetypal heists, complete with a finale that visually mirrored that show’s most famous episode. And in terms of its characters and thematics, the messy gender politics of how these characters loved and used each other gave the episode a real sense of vitality and bite. All that together added up to an extremely confident and largely rewarding episode, one that furthered the thematic threads of the premiere in some very interesting ways. Fujiko Mine continues to be an engaging and intriguing production!
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