Review of Dororo

And so my continued love/hate relationship with Studio Mappa marches ever on, in which they consistently put out ridiculously ambitious projects with stunning first episodes that regularly push the boundaries of what modern anime is capable of, spinning dangerous, unique, memorable, thoughtful, massive, and utterly memorable narratives with insanely intricate productions, and always, without fail, stumbling over uneven schedules and overstepped ambitions that lead to the finished product having very noticeable holes and frustrations that drag it down from genuine greatness, but the level of passion and dedication on display is so riveting that I feel pressured to give all those missteps a pass. Everyseason, it’s the same song and dance with these lunatics, yet no matter how many times I’m burned, I always find myself coming back. Say what you want about Mappa, they don’t do safe, and if there’s one thing this industry could use more of in the modern day, it’s that kind of daredevil risk-taking. I value this studio’s talent and dedication, and while I can’t outright say I trust them, I never cease to be blown away with how far they’re willing to push themselves. We need more people like the Mappa team working in the industry, more people willing to go the extra mile and take the risks necessary to achieve something truly transcendent. So when I say that Dororo is a flawed, uneven creature, know that I criticize so heavily because I appreciate so much of what this show does, and I just wish it ended up being even stronger than just quite good.

Based on a tale from the pen of Osamu Tezuka, the godfather of anime and manga, Dororo takes the Devilman Crybaby route of updating this classic manga with modern sensibilities and a hard-bitten edge. In the times of the samurai, Lord Daigo’s land is suffering from famine, and in his desperation, he makes a deal with demonic forces to keep his people alive; prosperity in exchange for his newly born son. The baby is stripped of all of his features, his limbs, his senses, his skin, even his face. Daigo orders the poor thing to be put out of its misery, but the midwife takes pity on it and sets it down the river, Moses style, to find a second chance at life. Flash forward about twenty years or so and the baby has grown into an ass-kicking, demon-slaying warrior outfitted with a prosthetic body to replace everything that was taken from him, including arms that can open up into razor-sharp sword blades for maximum bloodletting. He’s on a quest to slay the demons that stole his body, reclaiming all the remnants of humanity he never got a chance to taste. And along the way, he finds himself an unlikely companion in Dororo, a fast-talking, quick-witted, streetwise kid who takes a liking to the mysterious renegade. From there on, the story spools into a series of episodic adventures building to a grander narrative as Dororo and the newly christened Hyakkimaru travel across the land, slaying demons and reclaiming Hyakkimaru’s lost body piece by piece, Dororo acting as the unworldly warrior’s guide through the dangerous landscape (and as a spirited one-sided conversationalist, to keep their journey from being completely silent until Hyakkimaru eventually regains his voice). But the forces of Daigo are stirring to war, and the scars left on the lost boy’s family long ago are slowly rising like a plague in the plenty of the land his sacrifice helped save.

So, you know, just another day at Studio Mappa with a production requiring a ridiculous amount of ambition and skill on a near weekly basis. An adaptation of a classic work from the godfather of manga that needs to be updated into a more modern context? With swordfights and crazy plotting and out-there conceptions of demonhood and humanity to be explored? You can almost hear the animators chomping at the bit to dig into such a tantalizing prospect. And unsurprisingly, watching it all unfold is like a cross between the Icarus myth and a rejection of the same. You can hardly believe how much effort is being poured into this endeavor, nor how much of it actually succeeds. Much like Masaaki Yuasa did with Devilman, the team behind Dororo fundamentally understood how to translate this ancient tale into something vital and fresh today. It’s a heavily tonal piece, shrouded in the pale papyrus colors and rough painted surfaces that suggest a scroll painting brought to life, timeless in its aesthetic while riveting in its ideas. If anything, I wish it had adapted harder at points; there are a scattered handful of moments where it tries to do the Samurai Champloo thing of slipping into radically different, much goofier styles for a one-off episode or two, but it comes off as awkward and disjointed because it was doing such a good job not being a rollicking showcase. There’s a part of me that wishes this entire production trusted itself a little more in that regard. Again, ambition outstrips means here, and you wish someone had stepped in and put the reins on Mappa a bit to direct them down a more beneficial road. There is so much power in the story’s heavy shadows peppered with moments of light, and I wish it wasn’t in such a hurry to be anything but that.

In fact, my overall appraisal of Dororo is that this is what I wanted Samurai Champloo to be: a strong, character-focused narrative that merged its badassery with genuine human connection. The tale of Dororo and Hyakkimaru as they quest to restore his body carries a heavy weight, their encounters ranging from light and silly to gut-wrenching and tragic. There were no shortage of moments across the first half of this show that made me suck in air through my teeth to keep from gasping out loud in pain. As Hyakkimaru slowly pieces his body back together, he starts down an increasingly bleak path, every return of what was stolen from him ironically pushing him farther and farther from the humanity he seeks through the trauma he must endure to recover them in the process. Meanwhile, the more insight we get into Daigo and the family he’s build in the time since giving his first son away, it becomes harder and harder to see the ultimate villains as truly irredeemable. It’s a bitter, hard-edged, often painful narrative, but it’s also peppered by joy and giddiness, courtesy of Dororo’s unflinchingly optimistic spirit that draws the lonely warrior out of his shell. There is so much in this show that plays to the best aspects of samurai storytelling and the kind of chaotic brilliance it can entail... which is why it’s a shame that it struggles to keep that energy going in the second half. It’s not so much that the show gets worse as that it starts running into more roadblocks, story beats that feel a little rushed, twists and pile-ups that don’t feel as hard-hitting or vital. And it also doesn’t help that by this point, the usual Mappa issue of an uneven production is in full effect and there are far too many episodes that lack the polish of the earlier endeavors. It’s plagued by a million little annoyances, kinks that really should’ve been ironed out at some point before giving the go-ahead on the final product.

And yet. For all the complains I might have about potholes along the road, Dororo still swept me away. I got lost in its aesthetic, its ideas, its characters, its ethos, and its overwhelming ambition to keep striving past its limits, no matter how constricted those limits became. And nowhere is that strength clearer than in the show’s spectacular action, which might legitimately be some of the most fluid, chaotic, blisteringly intense swordplay I’ve ever seen put to animation. When I say that Dororo took my breath away, it’s these sequences more than not that I’m referring to. The clash of steel and flesh in this world is a thing of raw, tempestuous beauty, a vortex of sound and fury that barrels through your senses with stunningly fluid animation, blows coming heavy and hard one on top of the next, a relentless barrage of hard-hitting sakuga cuts and nail-biting editing that refuses to let up until your ass is knocked flat on the ground. Seriously, if for no other reason, watch this show for the action. Watch for the whirlwind of chaos and violence that defines this show at its peak, the crystalization of everything it excels at. I wish the entire thing could be as good as any random battle across any of its episodes. But man, is the ambition on display still riveting to behold.

Dororo is far from perfect. It’s let down by an inconsistent production and a lack of faith in its sense of self. But more often than not, I found myself dragged into caring in spite of myself, swept away by the scintillating beauty of everything this show has to offer. It’s a dangerous, mystical, enchanting, frustrating, and utterly winning adventure story, and no matter how flawed, I consider it worthy of my highest respect.