by When Mamoru Oshii, best known as the writer/artist of the Japanese manga Kerberos Panzer Cop, that inspired the famed anime Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade, directed the first on-screen adaptation of Ghost in the Shell by Masamune Shirow in 1995, it became a trailblazing success. Not only for the progressive and stringent cyberpunk setting but also for its subtle use of music and strong storytelling, that heavily relies on implications and asking questions that are never doubtlessly answered. Japanese films have a tendency to being confusing and, at times, difficult to follow for Western audiences that grew up watching Hollywood productions and European films that have lost a lot of their significance, hence appeal, after giants such as Goddard, Truffaut, Lang or Sergio Leone revolutionized the business in their home countries first, then globally. The anime is not an exception here. It is difficult. It is challenging and daring. The Hollywood take is daring as well, but neither difficult nor too thought-provoking, which turns it into an interesting mainstream film but at the same time hampers any attempt to make it a cult classic that will go on to inspire countless creative people, like the anime it was derived from.
It is widely accepted that Studio Ghibli films such as Spirited Away (2002) by Hayao Miyazaki or Grave of the Fireflies (1988) by Isao Takahata are masterpieces of visual storytelling and artistry. They work as fairytales that tell their message through metaphors and symbolism and they work as “live action” films starring drawn actors and scenery. Die-hard film fans and geeks know these films. But for the majority of the people, animes are cartoons, nothing more. Whatever story or message they have to tell has to be translated into a language they appreciate, which is a live action Hollywood production. Anyone familiar with the 1995 anime instantly notices their familiarity. Plenty of shots and scenes look interchangeable. That said, director Rupert Sanders didn’t make a bad film, it is merely a remake, honed for a different market. And those that know the original film or, God forbid, the manga, will get nothing new out of it. Everything Sanders adds to explain substantial questions raised but remaining unanswered by Shirow actually makes the film less appealing, simply because it isn’t necessary to make assumptions anymore without ever extracting an unimpeachable truth.
Stylistically, the film is very impressive. We see a city that is somewhere between Tokyo and Hong Kong plus even more neon lights and billboards and a couple of elevated highways that would make for a perfect F-Zero racetrack. It is an interesting setting in so far as it clearly visualizes how cold and impersonal this environment is. Seeing this invariably makes you wonder what is there that needs to be protected, and we never truly learn. The most stylish props though are the cars: the Major and Batou are on the prowl in a Lotus Esprit, their boss Aramaki (Takeshi Kitano, or better known as Count Takeshi out of the cult game show Takeshi’s Castle 1986-1990) is driving a Lotus Excel. The Lotus Esprit, designed by Giorgetto Giugaro, is a style icon, the Excel now forgotten and wiped off the streets, but both are extremely stylish and with body kits added they actually look like futurist designs, even though the Esprit was launched in 1976, the Excel in 1882. Everything seems connected and humans are “enhanced” with bionic parts. Despite its obvious overfeed with information and advertisement, the city appears sterile and lifeless. The only counterpart to this is the stray dogs that are regularly fed by Batou (Pilou Asbæk), one of the police officers, or probably the next thing to it in this world, working with Major Mira Killian (Scarlett Johansson). The Major is the sheriff of this ghost town, a cyborg built by Hanka Robotics after her body was damaged terminally in an accident. The only actual human part of the Major is her brain, her ghost, the cybernetic body is called shell. It is this shell that turns her into a weapon for the anti-terrorist bureau Section 9, enabling her to do unimaginable things. At the same time, this raises moral questions, since she is forced to take medication ostensibly meant to prevent her brain from rejecting the shell but actually blocking her memories.
Another question raised and predetermined by the zeitgeist is why the Major has to be played by Scarlet Johansson, not really a blueprint for WASP-people but still a white American actress. Whitewashing is a term commonly used in this context. But it is never taken into consideration that the Major, both in the manga and the anime, isn’t depicted as Asian woman. Additionally, the future we see is multicultural, inhabited by all ethnic groups, maybe not a melting pot, but also not an Asian city. It is something entirely new, not a mix of different cultures created by people from all over the world. With cybernetic body parts available, not only ethnicity but also heritage are replaced by technology. So the question arises why the Major is not an Asian woman if ethnicity isn’t decisive, and the only answer will be that Johansson is a star that draws audiences worldwide. By the way, her performance in Ghost in the Shell is the best we’ve seen of her in a long time, a fact nobody cares to talk about.
Section 9 uses thought communication on their hunt for a hacker called Kuze, the Puppet Master in the anime, who uses this hyper connective system against Hanka and its CEO Cutter. It was Cutter who decided to create the Major and deploy her as the ultimate anti-terrorist weapon and is surprisingly infuriated when the Major is damaged while hunting for Kuze when they raid a Yakuza nightclub. Batou is “damaged” and equipped with cybernetic eyes. This is chosen wisely. In a story that deals with questions of humanity, any kind of character development is supposed to be kept in mind and referenced. The new eyes imply that maybe Batou’s world view was altered but despite ceasing to be fully human, his character remains untouched. Kuze then sends assassins to kill Dr. Ouelet, who created the Major, which is a hint that there’s more behind Kuze’s actions than mere terrorism.
When the Major finds Kuze’s server room, a network of human bodies linked together, she is captured and Kuze confronts her, if not physically. Unknown to Major Killian, they are both ghosts in the shell, built by Ouelet for Hanka, but Kuze is a failed predecessor that somehow escaped and tells her to discover her own past by not using the medication she is given because it gives her implanted memories. Implanted memories are a new twist to Ghost in the Shell, if nothing revolutionary in film. The most prominent example where implanted memories are crucial to the plot are definitely Blade Runner (1982) by Ridley Scott and Total Recall (1990) by Paul Verhoeven. Both are classics, and while the first spawned a sequel, the latter saw a remake that put animated special effects and a 21st century notion of style over practically everything Verhoeven and Schwarzenegger did in 1990, thus fails for anyone that knows the original. And even though Rupert Sanders here answers a question that is never touched in the anime, this twist works as refining moment for the Major. She confronts Ouelet, her creator, and learns that 98 times before the ghost in the shell died, making her a very symbolic and successful number 100, and that her memories are implanted. Where the Major in Oshii’s film is more machine and electric circuits than human being, not only physically but in how she responds to her environment, Sanders suddenly makes her approachable. We can relate to her and how she must feel when Ouelet tells her she didn’t die in a terrorist attack in which her parents were killed.
The Major questions who, or rather what she is, given that her brain is all that is left of her. What does the loss of the body, the physical entity, the “shell” every human being depends on, actually mean if there’s a replacement at hand that is by all scientific means superior? The shell gives superhuman strength, it enhances vision and enables its ghost to be connected entirely with digital systems. And, of course, every part of it can either be fixed or replaced. Visions for the future now foresee that human beings can be implemented into computer systems, fully detached from a human body or shell. Either you consider this a quantum leap forward, turning mankind into God-like entities with unlimited power, freed from any mortal needs and fears, or you see the flip side. A human body has its deficits but at least it can’t be hacked. Everyone’s thoughts are personal and internal, we share only what we care to share. Even the superior shell couldn’t protect the Major when she hacked into the geisha that attacked Hanka. She learns something but barely survives because Kuze hacks her as well. Who knows what happens to a ghost in a hacked shell. After all, it has to be somehow connected to the artificial bits and parts. But the problem is, and we’re confronted with that in everyday life, that conformity is inevitable in any society throughout history. If you live in a world controlled by companies such as Hanka there’s no question it is difficult, if not impossible, not to play by their rules. Batou is a good example. After he loses his eyes and we see Cutter’s men trying to assassin him, Togusa and Chief Aramaki to eliminate Section 9 as liability, he’s at home with his favorite stray dog sitting with him, evidence for his humanity. He looks conflicted, even though a big portion of his facial expression has been robbed by the artificial eyes. Batou knows he can either live a life blinded, outside of society, or accept that science can help him – and pay the price for it.
Thanks to the address she was given by Ouelet, who also paid the ultimate price to protect her, the Major locates her mother. We learn that her real name is Motoko Kusanagi and that she was declared dead a year ago after she ran away and allegedly died in an accident. Motoko decided to live in a ghetto-like area of the city that is abandoned and disconnected from the rest of the society, together with other runaways, one of them Kuze. They chose self-determination over conformity, that inevitably means security but also slavery, and were punished by Hanka and abducted and killed to serve as guinea pigs. None of this is made clear in the anime and even though Motoko’s homecoming and reunion with her mother is constructed as poignant scene, particularly when her mother states she still sees her daughter behind the shell, it would’ve been a lot more disturbing and controversial not to reveal this. With the addition of Kuze as the Puppet Master, this scene appears necessary, though it might’ve been more effective if only implied.
Section 9 preserves itself and begin a counter attack on Cutter, almost like a counter hack, only in real life, with real consequences, but to eliminate the Major and Kuze, that meet at their former hiding place and remember what it means to be human, Cutter decides to literally paint the town red. The famous and often referenced spider tank is deployed and even though Kuze’s shell is nearly destroyed and the Major literally tears herself apart in the fight she still proves how effective and superior the shells are by defeating the spider tank and its huge machine guns. Motoko refuses to merge with Kuze, who fades out before a bullet destroys his ghost, and it is unclear whether he retreated to a digital network and accepted the loss of his physical body can never be revoked or simply died, since he was technically dead for a year already. Aramaki then kills Cutter at his sinister headquarter, using an ancient six-shooter, like a cowboy, the dead body dropping into a pool of water, symbolically sealing the end of the Hanka Corporation. In the anime, Batou rescues the Major and transplants her ghost into a new shell, constructed as the body of a girl, claiming it was the best shell to come by on the black market. Here, Motoko, now remembering her past, embraces what or who she is now, stays with her mother and resumes work with Section 9. Whether Oshii’s or Sanders’ visualization of rebirth is stronger is definitely left to personal taste.
Ghost in the Shell is definitely not a bad film, it is controversial and questions future visions of people merging with machines and technology solving all problems, that have almost become common sense these days. But compared to Oshii’s anime, it is a tad less creative, a bit too explanatory, simply a less disturbing film in the most positive connotation. But for those that never watch animes or don’t want to be disturbed by a film it is certainly worth watching.
