Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’re checking out the first episode of a series I haven’t watched in decades, the mysterious and majestic Rahxephon. I can still vividly remember scanning the shelves at Suncoast (back when that was a thing), and picking out this show’s first DVD purely based on its fantastical cover art. You really didn’t know what you were getting as a teen spending your allowance based on cover vibes, but I chose well that time, as fragments of Rahxephon’s fanciful imagery and quiet sense of longing have stuck with me ever since.
Given Rahxephon’s remarkable mecha designs, it should be no surprise that director Yutaka Izubuchi is primarily famous for his character and mechanical design work, with credits ranging from Gundam to Patlabor to Kamen Rider. It was his friend Masahiko Minami (president and co-founder of Bones) who suggested he direct something of his own, and the resulting production was further blessed with a rogue’s gallery of ‘00s legends, including future Eureka Seven director Tomoki Kyoda as assistant director, Masahiro Ando and Mitsuo Iso directing individual episodes, and writers like Yoji Enokido and Chiaki J. Konaka tackling scripts. The resulting show is as stately and dreamlike as you’d expect from such an assembly, and a pillar of Bones’ golden era. Let’s check it out!
Episode 1
We open in silence as a light resolves into a burning sun, casting a red hue over an open sea. Then dramatic horn fanfare accompany the reveal of ships like aircraft carriers. Ichiko Hashimoto composed the show’s eclectic score, which ranges from classical to rock tunes to electronic tracks, and ably supports the show’s overarching musical motif
There is an elegant, quasi-organic quality to these jet designs, and the color design is just as lovely; muted tones allow the fading sun to dominate the scene, offering a tone of peaceful resignation rather than jubilant energy
As we cut to the ship’s bridge, a woman lifts the headphones that are actually playing the background music. “The tone of war… Wings creak, the sound of a beginning.” I recall this lady being a wholly inscrutable oracle the first time through, so we’ll see how I fare this time
We see this jet is lifting off and heading towards a massive sphere
“First Movement: Invasion of the Capital.” That musical motif extends to the episode titling as well
And we cut to a sleek modern city, with birds resting on phone lines, attesting to the peace of the moment. We hone in on the home of “Maya & Ayato Kamina”
Ayato is also an artist – a painter, currently inspecting his painting of a woman staring out across a surreal, fallen landscape. The composition actually reminds me of Star Driver’s consistent paintings of a woman staring into the distance, though the imagery is obviously universal. A young man gazing towards a woman who is staring away in turn, their thoughts inscrutable as they look beyond their mundane surroundings, is an image you’ll see again and again in these tales of male adolescence. It’s an image that inherently speaks to the uncertainty of grounding and ambiguous gender relations as boys grow into themselves; having moved beyond their mother’s arms, the feminine is now characterized as something mysterious and longed-for, with the painted figure’s retreating back and distant gaze emphasizing how the male observer cannot fathom their thoughts or destination. The image applies just as well to FLCL, Evangelion, or Eureka Seven
The alarm strikes for 8 AM. “All is well in the world, I guess.” Ayato is allured by the mystery of the painting, but still ensconced in his comfortable pre-inspiring incident cocoon
“Not late today, but late today too, right?” Ayato’s mother is predictably absent, having left notice that she’ll be stuck at work. The narrow walls of Ayato’s current world are emphasized through a fisheye profile shot, Ayato a silhouette against the blinding sun
A purple-haired woman spies on Ayato from a nearby balcony as he heads out. RahXephon has earned itself a fair number of comparisons to Evangelion over the years, and moments of closely synchronous imagery like this demonstrate that’s more than just a reflection of genre unfamiliarity. I won’t be emphasizing the points of commonality here, but disavowing them feels nearly as facile as centering them in your analysis
The woman activates some device and slips it into Ayato’s bag on the train, presumably a tracker
The train calls out the Ikebukuro stop, informing us we’re in modern Tokyo
Ayato runs into a classmate named Hiroko Asahina
Back at his house, men in black suits appear to be hunting Ayato, and state that “our first line of defense has already broken”
Love these spacious layouts on the train, featuring lots of uniquely designed background characters. The advent of CG backgrounds was essentially a death knell for artistry in layouts, and modern anime are significantly impoverished for their prioritization of foreground characters over cohesive compositions. Even ostensibly lavish productions like Demon Slayer have largely abandoned establishing a sense of space
Suddenly their subway crashes
Ayato is uninjured, and elects to go get help. The end of the tunnel is a portal of binding light – the threshold of his childhood (or the womb), from which he will emerge to see everything differently. When we are children, the world seems stable and certain – as Ayato emerges into ruin, he realizes how fragile the world truly is
Modern tanks attempt and fail to contend with highly advanced jets
Lovely mechanical and effects animation as more local defenders face off with this red plane. Great to see these mechanical animation proficiencies of the ‘80s and ‘90s holding strong; I assume a modern production would default to CG for these vehicles, and look like garbage as a result. CG designs generally turn what should be an action show’s greatest strength (the execution of battles themselves) into its most damning weakness
Ooh, love this used of transparent smoke layers to create depth in the composition
In the ruins, his vision is realized: a woman in a yellow dress, staring off into the distance. “You are… Mishima Reika”
More excellent layouts as the two share drinks from a vending machine. The clever use of shadows here isolates them along this railing like they’re under stage lights, further emphasizing the dreamlike unreality of this meeting with Mishima
Ayato is embarrassed and infatuated, but Mishima has other concerns – a singing emanating from outside, to which she responds “Dolem”
The next craft to appear terrifies through its seeming denial of gravity – a winged quasi-humanoid figure that simply floats through the air, firing beams of destructive energy across the city. It looks like some terrible angelic figure, only just human enough to convey a sense of malicious intent
“Are you certain about sending Allegretto out?” ‘Allegretto’ refers to musical timing, describing a piece being played at a brisk tempo. Additionally, it appears this robot is being directed by a woman who is continuously chanting within a metal bier. Like Eureka Seven’s surfing culture, a strong central motif really gives a classic template like this a sense of unique identity
“It won’t awaken without Ollin. Even if it were to open, it couldn’t sing.”
Mishima is framed against a subway mural that fits her with angel wings, further emphasizing her otherworldly nature, and drawing a muted connection between her and these angelic machines
She disappears just before the government men attempt to capture Ayato, only to be subdued by the purple-haired woman. For some reason, the G-men have blue blood
And so the call to a vast and unknown world is made, with this woman offering to explain all these fresh mysteries
“Sorry, but I’m not interested in older women.” Ayato’s response to this offer essentially makes the subtext text, emphasizing his unwillingness to enter the world of adults, and his immaturity relative to this sexually mature woman
Instead, he rushes towards the angelic figure of Mishima, a figure untethered from the messy specifics of adulthood. The purple-haired woman seems genuinely panicked as he leaves, expressing more humanity than Mishima ever has
God, this first episode is so generous. Really wish they still made ‘em like this
“Last stop, Shrine of Xephon”
The architecture shifts as the train terminates in a station like some kind of ancient temple, lit by ominous Argento hues
“They are heading towards the Room of Rah.” A sun god, appropriate for our imagery so far
“Send Fortissimo out too.” ‘Very loudly’ or ‘with force’
The two emerge into a watery shrine housing a giant egg, another classic symbol of adolescent awakening. Probably used to most humorous effect in Revolutionary Girl Utena
Mishima joins the chorus as sounds reverberate and overwhelm Ayato. He is urged to awaken, and the egg’s shell cracks in turn, his vehicle for mastery of this world emerging
At the same time, a vast aerial battleship emerges from the clouds. “This is the Mu. Our enemy”
And Done
Dear lord, what a rich, gorgeous, and efficient premiere that was! RahXephon’s nested tiers of visual and narrative motifs, as well as its clear articulation of adolescent awakening via apocalyptic theater, made it easy to follow the story’s trajectory even as the actual mechanics of this world remain unclear. And frankly, I’m loving that ambiguity as well – these robot designs are so eerie and fascinating that it’s delightful to be positioned alongside Ayato, bewildered by these larger-than-life forces now shattering his world. We’ve got a confident density of classic metaphors, a world that is comforting in its familiarity and inviting in its ambiguity, and sumptuous visual design that delights both in its evocative layouts and beautiful mechanical creations. That is how you start a show!
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