Review of Redline

Redline: A Personal Statement A common criticism of Takeshi Koike’s Redline is that it chooses style over substance, to a fault. In principle, I should be against the concept of style over substance. I hold various pretentious ideas in my head about the role of art in the human experience and what meaningful purpose it might serve to God. The idea of tossing out metaphysical or introspective meaning for greater aesthetic value sounds unpleasantly nihilistic (Jesus, what thesaurus did I fall asleep on last night?) One need only play through something as mainstream as Persona 5 to encounter artists’ idolatry of aesthetic value devolving into adangerously amoral philosophy. The art takes the place of God; morality is replaced by whatever *feels* right—or in Persona’s terms, whatever your “aesthetic” is. Ideas like this laid the intellectual foundation for the great despots of the 20th century.

Now in practice, that’s all horseshit. My favorite film of the decade is John Wick; the absurdly brutal, morally empty action flick with the most incredible cinematography, editing, and choreography to be found in Hollywood today. I thoroughly enjoy records from Black Sabbath to Opeth that contain literally Satanic lyrics but have damn good guitar riffs. I adore the landscape paintings of Romanticists and Impressionists, both pretentious crackpots who painted with the belief that reality was true only to each individual’s conception of it. However, they produced profoundly beautiful art. Sometimes, that’s just fine.

In Redline, aesthetic clearly reigns supreme. I avoided it for years, having heard the writing was weak. If only I could remember who I heard that from so I could, to quote a great man, sock them in the goddam face and they’d stay plastered. A Public Service Announcement to all who are still wary of watching Redline; watch it. You might even end up as one of these chumps on the MAL reviews who rated it a 6 or something because you wanted more plot; still, watch it. Even these bastards probably don’t regret a second of watching the non-stop frame-by-frame bombardment of animated beauty. We have to accept that not everything has to be a brilliant parable or an in-depth analysis of the human experience. Is it a problem that great stories are overshadowed by mindless eye-candy in the current film market? Probably. Is there welcome room for mindless eye-candy, though? Definitely, especially when it's executed as well as Redline is. Take the product on its own terms; that is, meticulously hand-drawn animation throughout an absurdist high-octane thrill ride. If it's not for you, leave it for the rest of us to adore. And boy do I adore it.

Thank God someone had the balls to say “Hey, everyone pretty much fucking knows hand-drawn animation is where the great beauties of anime film are—maybe there’s still a market for it.” Thank God they had the balls to stick it through to the end. Listen, I don’t even like racing movies. I don’t like racing videogames, I don’t like racing cartoons, I don’t like the actual racing sport, I’m not even interested in brands of cars. None of that matters when something is as engaging and animated to such glorious perfection as Redline. I imagine Koike and his team could have made a film about croquet and, with the same amount of time, budget, effort, and passion, it would have been just as much of a masterpiece. Hmm… now there’s an idea.

The moral of the Redline experience is that amoral art can be pretty fucking cool. The incomprehensible amount of skill and effort that went into the intricacies of every frame of Redline is more than enough to make worthy art. I have a little analogy to explain this: I have little respect for ancient Japan's samurai code of honor that was simply a guise for tribal warfare, but I have a deep fascination with samurai stories for the extreme self-mastery it takes to follow the “way of the sword.” As I don't care for the narrative of bushido in ancient Japan, I could not give a fuck about JP’s motivation for competitive racing or the insane intergalactic politics of the Redline universe. The narrative of the samurai code is not what is special about the samurai, just as Redline's narrative is not what is special about the film. The samurai earn my admiration for their miraculous austerity, while Redline earns my admiration for its miraculous mastery of design and animation. All praise due to Takeshi Koike.