Now And Then, Here And There

Shu’s a scrappy kid with tons of fighting spirit, if not a lot of brains. One day after kendo practice he climbs one of the smokestacks on top of the abandoned factory in town, and finds a strange, sad-faced girl there. Her name is Lala-ru, and she is being sought by an army from another dimension, who capture her and Shu together when he dives in and tries to save her.

The other world Shu ends up in is a desolate place, where the sun burns huge and cold in the sky and barely a drop of water is to be found anywhere. Shu becomes a conscript in insane King Hamdo's army, which marches across the land, conquering and killing. He eventually escapes, rescues Lala-ru again and works to discover the secret of the pendant she always wears ... and which everyone else wants at all costs.

Few shows in memory are this bleak and desolate; only Shu’s determination sheds any light. Few shows in memory are also this violent, and in a way that is far more realistic and intimate than might be expected. Shu’s tortured, not just once but many times; beatings and savagery are commonplace. Most disturbing is an attempted rape, where the victim fights for her life and kills her assailant. It’s a long, long way from the stylized violence of stuff like Burst Angel or Hellsing. Here, every blow and every death has lasting emotional impact.

What makes the show not only watchable but enthralling is the characters, whom we come to care about quite deeply. I’ve mentioned Shu, but Lala-ru has a moment when she finally speaks for herself, about what her power accomplishes, and we realize her silence and reticence have been bitterness: “At first they appreciate [what I can do]—but soon they take me for granted. Put enough people together and they always fight. All the good people in this world are dead.” Shu is determined to make her believe differently.

Like Hayao Miyazaki’s best productions (Nausicaa, Princess Mononoke), the show works hard to show us how everyone’s actions are a product of their point of view. Case in point: Shu’s fellow child soldiers. Some are only too happy to let the system make them into killers. Some are outwardly cruel, but hold out a measure of hope that things could be different. Some are too young to really know better, but learn fast—one way or the other. Shu has an impact on everyone he meets, but them especially, and in the end, Lala-ru most of all—the one person who most needs it. This isn’t an easy series to watch, but it’s gripping once it starts and hard to forget after it’s over.