Review of Casshern Sins

Casshern Sins is... not really a remake of Neo Human Casshan—an ancient 1973 anime with a few of the same characters, such as Casshern, Braiking Boss, Friender, and Luna—but it's a reimagining, and maybe somewhat of a deconstruction of that old silly superhero beat-'em-up formula so popular in old cartoons and comics—that's at least what I would like to think, seeing as there is overly fancy, pose-heavy, acrobatic fight scenes in every episode—but that's contrasted with muted colors, philosophizing, sad music, and an overwhelming bleakness; despite the fast-paced action, it's actually very slow-paced in everything else. Visually and aurally, it's near perfect in style. I'llhave to admit that I'm generally disinclined to bother with episodic anime. It just brings to mind the stagnant cartoons of childhood, where nothing ever changes because everything is within a vacuum, and it seemingly doesn't matter (and the writing is rarely up to snuff for that format). If the change did matter, then it would show permanence from episode to episode. There's rarely even thematic continuity to weave all of the episodes together. If the writing and direction are great enough, then it doesn't absolutely matter, but this is rarely the case.

While the first half of Casshern Sins is episodic, following a formula not unlike Kino's Journey, with a similarly philosophical approach, all of the episodes are thematically consistent with the world building and the core concept that all of the characters gravitate around. There is a monotony and similarity to the proceedings that result in many variations upon the same theme. At times, it's as if the bleakness of the world has left Casshern so lost that he needs to be reminded of how to continue on in life, and the episodic characters will beat it into his head as many times as is necessary.

There are also recurring characters, and their stories culminate in the plot-focused second half of the series. The characters are some of the most archetypal imaginable, stripped down to their barest, especially with the single-minded Dio. Their characterization and backstories are as minimal as possible. Their dialogue and interactions are simple. They are there to introduce themes and ideas, giving them a more raw, emotional spin. The emotive character art and animation meshes well with the simple but very precise character dialogue that is almost all thematic—it may not often be subtle, but it is carefully crafted. The sentimental music complements the somber atmosphere, the latter of which acts as a perfect counterbalance to the melodrama. Often melodrama becomes laughable because of how out of place it feels, but this world is so unbearably bleak as to warrant it. Lyuze and Casshern develop pretty well, and most of the characters are good or serve their purpose. Even the episodic characters provide for interesting stories.

The episodic portion actually adds conceptual weight, even if you'd prefer to have more plot and a focus on developing the recurring characters. The world appears bereft of meaning and Casshern is left to wander without aim. There can't really be a plot without meaning or something to strive for. All hope is lost and most can only wax nostalgic as their bodies rust and break apart. Primitive mythology eventually develops to fill the void and it takes off from there—then comes a warring king, a cult focused on Luna, etc.

Sometimes the dialogue and themes do become a tad repetitive.

COPY & PASTE ROBOTS: KILL CASSHERN! MAYBE IF WE EAT HIM WE WON'T DIE! GET THE SEASONING AND OIL.

*Casshern rips them apart like they're toys and strikes a pose.*

Lyuze: You killed the Sun who was called Moon.

Casshern: I did what?

Lyuze: The Sun who was called Moon, you killed her.

Casshern: I don't remember.

Lyuze: You killed her, and that caused the Ruin to begin.

Casshern: Oh, yeah... I guess I did.

Lyuze: You remember then?

Casshern: No, that's just what all 1,234,897 identical robots told me before I destroyed them.

Lyuze: Don't you remember what you've done?

Casshern: Uh, not really...

Lyuze: How could you forget such a horrible thing!?

Casshern: I don't know lol.

Variations on this dialogue are repeated throughout. At one point I was laughing because one of the characters ACTED SURPRISED when another character states that Casshern was the one who killed Luna later in the series. It was surreal. There is definitely a bit of silliness to how repetitive the series can be early on with Casshern's amnesia and the dialogue. As far as amnesia plot lines go, this was one of the best, and I have no complaints—to hell with your "that's a cliche" line.

At least half of the episodic characters revolve around art, which makes sense—in a world that is falling apart, as we're constantly reminded by the crumbly sound design and the rubble, what greater impulse would their be other than to build? The episodes pretty much continue as such: Casshern walks through a desolate landscape of strange structures that might be semi-organic, remnants of cities, or a natural feature of the terrain. There is familiarity to an extent, but most of it looks far-removed and alien in comparison to our world. The environments and atmosphere are a high point. Usually he finds a patchwork city, and there's a person of interest to interact with and try to understand how it is that anyone manages to continue the struggle. Most of them are women, so he forms a bit of a harem, and by the end of the episode, he's like "Sorry, babe, I gotta destroy robots in another town and build my harem further. Keep your nose clean, kid."

Here's an example of what the episodic section is like:

Casshern: ...

One-Hit Wonder: You're beautiful... didn't anyone ever tell you how pretty your eyes are?

Casshern: *Blushes." Ahem, you think I could follow you around for a while? How is it that you're so content, when most robots are hopelessly falling apart and trying to turn me into dinner?

One-Hit Wonder: *Eyes flicker in that ecstatic anime way.* I'm so happy you asked. It's like I was born just to have you observe my process. You're a man of culture, unlike the rest of those peasants who could never understand. Let me show you a touch of the avant-garde.

Casshern: What are you going to show me?

One-Hit Wonder: *Points to busted wheel-chair legs.* Take me back to my house first. I haven't been there for like a century because of my legs, and I need some paint.

*After they get the paint, One-Hit Wonder paints the entire city in monochrome, even the 3-4 story buildings, despite not being able to even get up the stairs.*

Casshern: Wow, uh... I don't know what to say... it's beautiful. *Holds in laughter.*

One-Hit Wonder: Now you've seen my life's work. I can die happy. *Dies.*

Casshern: XD

Humans play a very small role in Casshern Sins, though they are there on occasion, sometimes migrating along with robots. Episode 3 is the only one with a central focus on a human, and it's one of the better episodes of the first half. The divide between humans and robots is kind of where the thematics can get a little bit wonky. Once the Ruin took hold of the earth, robots lost their immortality and with the despair and struggle of knowing they'll die, they—somehow—become more human-like. They're so emotive, and many of them are even quite human in appearance, so humans start to seem irrelevant. Humans created their successor, and there is the implication that machines are now in the process of evolving to be a bit more hybrid-like—consisting of elements of both man and machine, though this theme isn't explored too heavily. Like many things only being implied, propagation of... a particular species remains a possibility, but a very vague one, at that...

When it comes to finding meaning, it's very much in the mold of 20th century existentialism—really of the Albert Camus—it's the little things that count—latte-sipping school of philosophy. Yeah, yeah, I guess... it's better than the doomer vibes of the start, but I can't help but see this as a primitive part of the cycle in the quest for better axioms. The implications of what direction the future will take remain very vague, so who knows? Finding meaning in a dying—but beautifully realized—world has rarely been done better. Instead of the shrug-inducing and deadening—though technically impressive and artistic—nihilism of Texhnolyze, there's at least hope to be found.