Review

by Stephen Shin,

ghost – end of night

Anime Movie Review

Synopsis:
ghost – end of night Anime Movie Review
In the near future, advancements in technology have rendered most labor meaningless. Humans can upload their consciousness into the Starry Sky before they die so that they can live forever through the eternal existence of their memories. The Starry Sky is a place within an advanced virtual reality network, and its existence has led to society no longer fearing death. Nike, a young prodigy, is tasked with the honor of working in a rare, lauded position as an administrator of the Starry Sky.
Review:

Shingo Natsume is one of my favorite anime directors. Few people can direct their first work under Shinichirō Watanabe (Space Dandy), raise the bar for shonen TV action (One-Punch Man), then have their first original series explore the multiverse as deeply as Everything Everywhere, All At Once (Sonny Boy). With equal talent handling blockbuster spectacle and arthouse sensibilities, I was eager to see what he'd bring to his big screen debut. There are many ways to interpret ghost – end of night, but here's where I think he's coming from. The Director of Sonny Boy asks, “What if Haruhi Suzumiya had an Emo Phase?”

To give a refresher, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya was a sci-fi slice-of-life mash-up where the universe would cease to exist if a high school girl got bored of her current life. It's in many ways a defining text for Light Novels centered on school clubs and sarcastic narrators, but it's also an early example of the concept known as “chuuni”. Rooted in many power fantasies of a nobody becoming somebody, to be “chuuni” was to embrace who you wanted to be rather than the part of you that's normal. While lacking the edgy aesthetic that made it slang for “middle school syndrome”, that delusion of being more powerful than you seem is actually true in the case of Haruhi. Her desire to pursue the fantastical fundamentally changes the world, but Kyon helps her find fulfillment in what's already there.

Nike deals with this same existential dread, but with one key difference: Nike is convinced that she's powerful. Despite being a high schooler, she's granted administrative power over a system that chooses people's time to die. The promise of eternal consciousness and the elimination of labor has bred a culture that keeps itself busy with meaningless distraction. Meanwhile, at night, she connects with the universe, which sprouts kaleidoscopic flowers she calls filth. She's on a mission to cleanse the filth of the universe that sprouts from their empty existence. She is literally galaxy-brained, but does that make everyone else an idiot? Is the only alternative to being selected or trashed disappearing for good?

This is where her predecessor Masu comes in. He's never forgotten that anyone he grows attached to could leave this world at any moment, but that hasn't stopped him from appreciating the little things life offers. He carves the memory of places he's traveled into his body with tattoos. He takes his coffee light because the sugar and cream bite into the bitterness. He mourns the loss of a pet cat by giving the owner a bag of candy he promises will never run out. His lack of need to prove his maturity leads Nike to grow attached. She wants to know what makes something “real” in such an ethereal world. At first, Masu answers simply, “something you obtain with your own hands,” only to show what's missing in that statement shortly after: a guarantee it will stay held.

You can probably guess by now, but this is a film determined not to be understood. Much of the film's meaning is inferred rather than firmly established. We don't really explore Nike's background before the story starts, and Masu's real story is thrown in a flashback placed long after their emotional bonding moment. Even the premise laid out in the synopsis is so vague that you could take it for the pretentious ramblings of art students. What doesn't help is the film's lack of a solid story structure. Several scenes seem haphazardly thrown into the edit, with no regard for what came before or what comes next. At a certain point, when the film feels like it's made its point, it just keeps going until everything blows up. I appreciated how the ending parallels a popular Haruhi fan theory, but I was left wondering, “How did we even get here?” up until then.

I'm torn when it comes to the film's animation. On one hand, it is undeniably cinematic. It's hypnotizing to put the audience in the mind of someone who thinks they see the universe. Her galaxy-brain moments test the limits of what digital animation can do, creating psychedelic landscapes you could imagine falling into. Meanwhile, the mundane moments capture the mindset of an introvert in how we stare into the distance. Some landscapes and views feel familiar to me, as someone who zoned out alone on campus. There's also symbolism in the paper crane bouquets and cats that will probably click better once you've seen the film.

On the other hand, its overall aesthetic is cold and distant. Overly realistic backgrounds and a hazy color palette make the characters feel more like visitors rather than residents of their environment. The mind-bending imagery Nike witnesses doesn't feel out of place when “reality” gives off the same isolating vibe as Silent Hill. Even the characters look like they're wearing masks instead of their real faces. Natsume Ono's character designs are known for their sleepy, smug look, but Shingo Natsume dials it up even further than ACCA: 13-Territory Inspection Dept. by restricting their emotional range. It's easy to imagine this film as one long mental breakdown, with everyone looking like they don't belong there.

Much of this is tied together by the film's saving grace: its music. Alt-rock band hitsujibungaku was the perfect choice to have this film's angst centered around. After breaking into the anime sphere with “When the Light Shines” from The Heike Story, they quickly rose in prominence with “More than words” from Jujutsu Kaisen S2 and “Burning” from Oshi no Ko S2. Their songs feel like screaming into the void when words can't contain your emotions. Their 6 insert songs, plus a droning synth score by their collaborator Ohzora Kimishima, turn this film into something close to a feature-length concept album. At times, it feels like watching the anime equivalent of Pink Floyd's The Wall. Sonny Boy was already praised for its collaboration with the math rock band Toe, replicating the same synergy FLCL did with the pillows. So I'm happy to report he's maintained that synergy on a cinematic scale.

Movies like this are often difficult to review so early into their run. Much of it is left to discussion over multiple viewings, which just can't happen months ahead of its theatrical release. I'm curious how I feel on a 2nd viewing, or when people start digging into what it all means. Even for fans of Shingo Natsume, this will be a challenging work to appreciate. But I'm glad MADHOUSE let him do it: these days, only an outsider (Jinsei) or someone named Hayao Miyazaki (The Boy and the Heron) could make an anime film like this. I'm not sure it completely works, but I like what it's going for, and I'm eager to see it again.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author(s) and do not necessarily represent the views of Anime News Network, its employees, owners, or sponsors.
Grade:
Overall (sub) : B-
Story : C
Animation : A-
Art : A-
Music : A+

+ Comes close musically and visually to being an animated concept album
− Seems determined to make itself difficult to connect with or understand

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Production Info:
Director: Shingo Natsume
Screenplay: Shingo Natsume
Music: Ōzora Kimishima
Original creator:
Shingo Natsume
Tomohiro Suzuki
Original Character Design: Natsume Ono
Character Design: Norifumi Kugai

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