Tekkonkinkreet

Michael Arias, a Tokyo-based American and the man responsible for the computer graphics on the Animatrix. The story is based on the Manga 'Black and White' by Taiyo Matsumoto, and follows two homeless orphans (the eponymous'Black' and 'White') on the streets of fictional city called Treasure Town. But don't let the somewhat facile names fool you, the two kids live in a dark underworld of the city, and run the streets with improbable zeal and power - even the title of the film alludes to the fantastic attributes of the key protagonists, translating roughly as it does to 'iron', 'concrete' and 'muscles'squashed together - and the plot has them attempting to kick out a bunch of yakuzas, and subsequently a strange foreign businessman and his frighteningly surreal henchmen, who are changing the shape of Treasure Town through their nafarious schemes. Whilst the plot is somewhat ludicrous, and some of the subplots and character motives are not fully clarified, the richness of the animation is a major strength of Tekkonkinkreet, incorporating as it does both the multi-layered CGI, grittily sketched characters, and shots which mimic the edgy realism of handheld camerawork (a rarity in anime films as far as I know). The sprawling layered CGI gives a real sense of the metropolis as we wheel around it's peaks and troughs with Black and White, and it's atmosphere shifts as we advance through different plot points, becoming secure and cosy, in a warped sort of way, when the boys are in hiding together, before contorting into a warped maze of myriad signs and shops, smashed windows and skyscrapers as we trail the characters through various scrapes and conflicts. But for me the crux of the film lies in its expression of the insecurities and fantasies of childhood, and the infinitely shifting facets of a town in a state of change. The dynamic between the two boys is flagged up by their names, Black is the strong older boy, who is jaded and brooding and has already lost faith in mankind. He lives only to defend his partner, White, a younger boy whose wily nature and childishly optimistic fantasy lands offer a naive form of hope in the bleak underworld the duo inhabit. When it becomes clear that they are being hunted by the mysterious businessman who plans to develop the city, White is taken into police care and Black is left to roam the streets. It is from here that we begin to see the extremes of the latter begin to battle his way out through some aggressively abstract dream sequences in which he is drawn further into his own darkness by a terrifying bloodthirsty alter-ego by the name of Minotaur, as White desoerately tries to haul his partner back from the brink of this extremity. Through these dialectics we are presented at once with a stark warning against the ravages of urban life on the fragile minds of children, and the desperation we all show when faced with such rapid and often frightening states of change in modern society. All-in-all, the ample depth of the aforementioned animation standards of Studio 4°C provides a great stage for the inner turmoil to play itself out, and the occasional plot weaknesses may also be explained away by the extent to which the childish fantasies of the protagonists come to the fore. All things considered then, Tekkonkinkreet has plenty to offer both visually, certainly worthy of consideration for any fan of the animation, and with enough psychological intrigue to interest those of you who are less endeared to the medium. The DVD extras aren't worth screaming from the rooftops about, comprising as they do director commentary, a making-of documentary, and an interview with British band Plaid who composed the score, but they do nonetheless offer viewers a few interesting insights into the production.

rating: 3