How many different adaptations can one single manga spawn? In the case of Masamune Shirow's 37-year-old Ghost in the Shell, too many TV seasons, movies, and OVAs to count on the fingers of both hands. It's a bona fide phenomenon, with influence beyond the realms of manga and animation. Although every version so far has forged its own identity, none has elected to so directly adapt the original manga as Science SARU's latest iteration. Truly, this is the manga brought to vibrant, raucous, almost unbelievably faithful life.

As much as Mamoru Oshii's 1995 movie is justly celebrated for its cerebral drama and examination of philosophical and existential themes, it's an emotionally cold film, lacking in anything resembling humor. This is in stark contrast with Shirow's manga, which is packed with goofy gags and amusing banter between the main characters, even though they endure many of the same events. Even Kenji Kamiyama's Stand Alone Complex, which allowed for levity in many episodes, never quite embraced Shirow's chaotic storytelling. Ghost in the Shell manga fans: this version is for you.

Although Amazon Prime will start streaming the show worldwide starting from July 7, here in the UK, due to the involvement of distributor All the Anime, fans were granted the opportunity to preview the first two episodes on the big screen, along with a documentary following the main staff through the production process. It's been something of a trend lately to premiere the first few episodes of a new anime season in movie theaters, pioneered first by various Demon Slayer releases, followed by Jujutsu Kaisen, and most recently, Bleach: Thousand-Year Blood War. Uncharitably, fans might perceive this as a way to gouge their wallets, but I'm not necessarily averse to paying the price of a ticket to see a show I'm excited about a few weeks early.

From the outset, The Ghost in the Shell nails its colors to the mast. Starting with the exact same images and explanatory wording as the opening panels of Shirow's prologue, the show proceeds to (re)animate the violent yet iconic opening scene made famous by Oshii's movie. You know, the one where, while wearing thermoptic camouflage that makes her invisible, the protagonist, Major Motoko Kusanagi, explodes a corrupt politician, jumps out of a skyscraper window, and falls to the ground below. In Oshii's version, this is dark and mysterious. In Mokochan's version, it's brightly colored and hyper-kinetic, with pixelated blood exploding from downed bodies, all set to an incredibly upbeat jazz/orchestral mash-up score. What a stark contrast in directorial intention.

What's immediately obvious are the differences in character design. Kusanagi, Batou, Aramaki, and Batou have been ripped straight from Shirow's panels, their cartoonish caricatures animated in all of their scratchy, loose, organic glory. For fans who grew up on the dour, unemotive doll-like appearance of Oshii's Kusanagi, this version is a revelation of varied facial expressions, from grins to embarrassed blushes to terrifying scowls. She feels immediately more alive and more human, despite her still artificial body. This Kusanagi isn't afraid to bark orders, crack jokes, and commit acts of gross insubordination. She's exactly why I fell in love with the manga in my teens, and why Oshii's movie always felt to me like something was lacking.

Structurally, the first episode covers the prologue and most of the first full chapter “Super Spartan,” while the second episode concludes the first's story, before moving on to the first segment of the next chapter “Junk Jungle.” For those fans eager to learn if the infamous censored lesbian cybersex scene from this chapter is adapted, it most certainly is, though toned down a little for general audiences. It's still overly... moist, if not as explicit. It was enough to make me feel a little self-conscious in the theater, watching it with my family, whom I had dragged along.

Many scenes in these first two episodes also have counterparts in Oshii's movie, though they're expanded and given more of their original context here. Almost all of the dialogue and scenes from the manga have survived fully intact, including overly dense political discussions and all. What really elevates this above the manga is the truly excellent action scenes. As is unsurprising for the studio that gave us DEVILMAN crybaby, DAN DA DAN, INU-OH, and The Colors Within, The Ghost in the Shell absolutely sings when it's in motion. Just like in Shirow's color pages, this is a vibrant world full of myriad hues, from the deep red of the funny Fuchikoma “think tanks” to the lush green of vegetation and the iridescent blue of the skies. The action zips along at a relentless pace, dizzyingly chaotic at times, as Kusanagi and company fight against opponents in both the physical and cyberspace worlds. They aren't indestructible sentinels either: poor Togusa gets the crap beaten out of him twice, and Ishikawa doesn't fare much better.

So many iconic moments from the manga are faithfully recreated here. Although Ghost in the Shell has been adapted so many times, it's never looked or sounded quite like this. The documentary is worth staying around for, as it follows the staff through the meticulous production process, and their respect and love for the source material are abundantly clear. Writer Toh Enjoe freely admits to the difficulty of adapting Shirow's dense text for the screen, even admitting some panels are hard to understand. The show's music is provided by three different composers, some of whom are interviewed at length about their process, and judging by the quality of the first two episodes' soundtracks, they're onto something quite special. The closing song, "Blue," by Millennium Parade (who also provided music for the previous Ghost in the Shell show, SAC_2045), is very atmospheric. Neither opening nor ending sequences were shown in this presentation; however, the end credits ran over a black screen.

Unusually, the theatrical version was available as an English dub only, with an entirely new cast. Suzie Yeung could grow on me with her flexible take on Motoko Kusanagi. It'll be hard for her to replace Mary Elizabeth McGlynn in my heart, but she sounds quite similar, at least when Kusanagi's being more serious. Bill Butts as Batou could almost be Richard Epcar; he delivers his lines in almost identical fashion. This is a good thing. SungWon Cho as Aramaki sounds different from the venerable (and much-missed) William Frederick Knight, but still does a good job as the grizzled old man, even if he sounds a little too young to me. The Fuchikoma mechs are suitably squeaky, as voiced by Lizzie Freeman, very reminiscent of the Tachikomas from Stand Alone Complex. Their presence here remedies one of the movie's biggest omissions.

Overall, this was an enjoyable way to experience the first two episodes of Science SARU's upcoming, incredibly faithful adaptation of The Ghost in the Shell. It's a shame that the third episode wasn't included, as episode two's ending is a very unsatisfactory place to leave off narratively, and it will make the wait for the third episode to eventually stream on July 21 particularly painful.