Ani-Me #16: COWBOY BEBOP: THE MOVIE and Final Thoughts (Patreon)

Welcome to Ani-Me! The Series Where You Make Me Watch Anime! To be clear, you aren’t making me do anything because I have enjoyed every bit of this so far. And if you haven’t read my last three pieces on the entire series of Cowboy Bebop, feel free to here . If you have, then enough preamble, here we go with…

Today’s Entry: COWBOY BEBOP: THE MOVIE (2001)

I’m so happy I took a month between finishing the show and watching this.

Because sometimes rushing things takes away from what makes it special. You don’t get that crucial separation that allows for feelings to gestate, rumble around in your head, and ultimately take hold. Likewise, sometimes you’re so trapped in the immediacy of the afterglow that it’s harder to understand how much your momentary feelings of elation will stick around for good. Or worse, lose out on what makes an experience special. But it’s safe to say that when I started the Cowboy Bebop: The Movie this weekend, it was so joyous to see these four characters back in front of me. Yes, I knew I liked them all, but I was shocked how much I had missed them. And the opening moments of the film felt like sliding into a warm blanket. And I can only hope that for the many who were watching at live back in 2001, they felt the same.

It also helps is the movie is fucking fantastic.

It might even confirm my long held-suspicion that the show might have been even “better” with a longer format. That may seem an odd thing to say given that the show was so flipping great at telling tight 20 minute stories that were respectful of your time. But I also feel like it inspired the show to err toward “the lark,” perhaps best embodied by episodes like Stray Dog Strut or Mushroom Samba, which were often filled with hilarious mix ups and quick inversions of power, all coasting toward irreverent finishes. Basically, it encouraged the romp. Even with action heavy episodes, it made for a quick duality of stand-offs in the tradition of Lone Wolf and Cub (I also realize the back half of the show went for the jugular with so many different kinds of stories, I’m just generalizing). It’s not that I disliked the shorter format (I adored it), it’s that they were so good that I wanted to see what they could do with time and resources. And here it is: a movie saddled with a two hour time frame and the outright need to tell a big ole’ story - AKA the kind of thing that a lot of other TV storytellers can get crushed under the weight of - and they succeeded admirably.

It was also incredibly hard to pull off in a different sense, because what should a “Cowboy Bebop Movie”even look like, anyway? Would it get trapped in the show’s central Spike / Vicious lore? (Thankfully no) Or better yet, how it could somehow capture the range of a show that would have episodes of either flights of fancy (Cowboy Funk), maniacal terror (Pierrot Le Fou), or grounded emotion (Speak Like A Child). The answer, of course, is by having a little bit of everything (alllll of the tiiiime). Starting with a series of moments that made me laugh out loud at 3 am in a dark room. Like when Spike keeps trying to read as Ed keeps turning with the computer on her head, or the repeating vase gag, or Faye’s “detailed drawing” of the culprit, and the pitch perfect timing on “hey, taxi!” The humor was integrated so seamlessly to the epic.

Which is all fitting for a movie that shows off why Shinichirō Watanabe might be one of the best pure directors period (man I can’t wait to watch more of his work). As cool as his work is, it’s not just cool. He completely understands the language of action as a tool for characterization and dramatic power games. The opening convenience store bust is a coup, not just because of the way it shows off the very best of aloof Spike, but the sparkling lines like “a wannabe preacher with a gun,” and “it ain’t our job to save your life,” and the way it crests to perfect opening title reveal. And later on, the train scene shows the horrible underbelly of that kind of casual violence, like the way it lingers empathetically on that rider before he’s viciously shot in the head by our villain. And it’s all dripping in the haunting ethereal quality of the final Halloween parade and the duel of the tower in our mock New York / Paris pastiche of Mars.

But it’s more than the execution of stylistic set-pieces. It’s the loving details like the future drive in where you watch Westerns in car levels. Or the perfect reveals like Spike punching the scientist on Morocco Street because he knows it’s really him. And most of all, it’s the power of the film’s quiet moments, like Jet talking to Ein, musing about how they “aren’t a family,” but curious about what it is that keeps them together. Which is a heartbreaking tease of what sadness is to come when they all soon fall apart. It honestly feels like every kind of scene from the show is in it. Sometimes regretfully. Because I was going along and like, “wow there hasn’t been one out of nowhere 90’s-esque homophobic / transphobic scene ye- oh there it is!” Blurgh. Because yes, everything about the show is in it..

Which means amidst the range, there are terrifying moments of malice. Sure, you could argue the real bad guy of the movie is the usual corporate secrecy that feeds death and destruction (but note how in the 90s we were obsessed with the danger of gOvErNmEnT sEcReTs and not really understanding the danger of our Facebook future would be everything out in open with blatant misinformation campaigns behind them). But no, the film’s real heavy is, of course, Vincent, who seems a mix of all the brands of heavy the show put before. He’s a dark, distant, and broody boy a la Vicious. He’s a ball of fury a la Asimov in the pilot Astroid Blues. And he’s a maniac with a misunderstood, tragic past a la Pierrot. Honestly, it sometimes feels a lot of stock villain stuff, but it still plays right. And his creepy shit with Faye made my skin crawl, but also hopefully reminds us that have to stop leaning on the contant specter of sexual assault as a “bad guy signifier.”

Besides, beneath the surface-level frights,, what really makes his character work is Elektra Ovirowa (or Ovilo), who earns the honor of being one of the first non-Julia to pierce through Spike’s shell in the entire run. At first, much of the attraction seems to be the action fisticuffs (this show really loves its acts of mirroring), but so much of the connection comes in the genuine vulnerability later on, specifically in that jail scene (which we’ll come back to in a second). And sure, Elektra’s ultimately positioned as the femme fatale in certain ways, but it thankfully doesn’t break either way one would assume. In the end, for her it’s about mourning someone already gone. And honoring those whose only kindness exists as a faint glimmer of humanity, a way of remembering our connection to the world. Which brings us to that thematic crux: For a movie that has “everything” in it-

What is it really about?

Well, in a way it outright tells us. Because it ends with that last moment of narration and the ending card: “are you living in the real world?” which draws direct parallels to the film’s opening of Spike being asleep on the couch. I don’t know what public discussion of this movie has been like but I’m assuming it likely inspired a whole circular conversation of “wAs iT aLl A dReAm?”  and the literal discussion of which could not be more fruitless. Because any discussion where you question the nature of reality (or even the reality of a story within a film) is impossible to argue about because that designation both starts and ends its own discussion. Because all movies are dreams, all reality is a social construct, all meaning is that which is created in semiotics, etc. The logistical hoops of getting from point A to point A are boring. There is only Point B: the meaning created. Which is why that whole “living in the real world” question is about all our characters’ connections to earth.

I’ve already talked for so long about how this show is obsessed with foiling characters and in this thematic sense, the specificity of Vincent actually makes for a much better foil for Spike than Vicious. Because where Vicious has the bad blood of history and a well of pure fury within him, Vincent is a man completely untethered from reality. No memory. No hope. No fear of death. Meaning he is the evil embodiment of Spike’s same self-destructive instincts. And we know this is on Spike’s mind because for the first time (outside of his speech in the show’s gripping finale), Spike outright acknowledges his history with fear in that beautiful jail scene. A history where the second he had something to lose, that’s when he suddenly was afraid. But it of course comes with that silent, two-part realization...

One, that at this point in the story, Julia is still gone, which means he has nothing, which therefore backs up the notion that Spike has been not just smiling in the face of death for the entire series. It’s been an ever-long suicide mission with a few delights of food and silliness along the way, all en route to his final, resigned tragedy with Vicious. But that second realization cuts a different way, if he has nothing to lose, then why does he say he’s suddenly afraid at the beginning of the scene? Gulp. It’s not that Vincent is so tough. Instead it gets us to ask if there is more of a glimmer of connection that he has let on? Is that what is scaring Spike most? Or is it a more devastating realization that for those who cannot see a future, memory may be what barely grounds us to life, as it is certainly the biggest difference between him and Vincent? Like most of the movie, the answer feels like a little bit of everything. But instead of feeling vague and nonspecific, it just makes it feel all the more devastating.

When I wrote about the finale I said that the great tragedy of Cowboy Bebop is how close these disaffected characters came to being affected. With the film, they only bring that sense of tragedy more to the forefront. And in this thematic space, the question of “are you living in the real world?” is not a literal one, but again, a character-driven one for Spike. And by extension, a series of questions extended to yourself. Are you trapped by the demons of the past? Or cursed with an existence where all you dream of is another, better life? While I don’t question the actual nature of reality itself, I do ask these questions all the dang time. Which in part shows us exactly how the show often uses its broadness to invoke one pointed observation into opening up a whole mass of psyche. And it's why there are an endless series of feelings left lingering in me still.

Early into the run I said that Cowboy Bebop was all built on the emotional structure of noir, where the attitudes of disaffection give way to guarded yearning, and then crest into all the emotions spilling out, often in all the wrong ways. That format is the exact reason why I had some trouble connecting to some episodes at the beginning, but now, coming out of the other side of all of this, I can’t get over how emotional this show makes me feel. It ultimately made so damn good on the promise of its premise. As did you. Because most of all, I’m deeply thankful y’all helped me go on this journey and do it right this time.

See you, Space Cowboys.

<3HULK