Ghost In The Shell 2: Innocence Review

When I finally got around to watching the 1995 Mamoru Oshii directed classic Ghost In The Shell, a film widely credited with increasing overseas interest in anime, I was left fairly impressed. It’s philosophical pondering of transhumanism and self-identity in a world of rapid technological advancements left me in as much of mix of melancholic intellectual daze as much as it’s hauntingly unique score, and mesmerizing sense of place. While I didn’t really leave the original thinking it could have used or maybe even needed a sequel, I wasn’t totally against the idea. 

No matter what is claimed to the contrary, it’s hard for me to see Ghost In The Shell 2: Innocence as anything other than a true a sequel and not a separate work in contrast to the intentions of the creators. Tonally, stylistically, philosophically, and narratively it carries on where it previously left off. Even certain songs are carried over. It does trade Batou for Kusanagi in terms of protagonist but if it's going for the same continuity it sort of had to. While I don’t think it falls victim to “the law of sequels” it stumbles in areas and ideas that it doubles down from the original effort that it probably shouldn’t have. If anything it ended up garnering even more personal respect for Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex and its ability to tell a story while seamlessly interweaving philosophy naturally through believable dialogue and imagery.

Auteur theory is in full effect from the very start. This is a Mamoru Oshii film, through and through. Striking individuality and style that, while mutually intelligible with other creators who employ this method of storytelling, it is undoubtedly ripe from the mind of the bender himself. I’ll commend any creator who is so committed to forming their own path, but even so you’ve got to earn your stripes and over his long and illustrious career he has certainly done that.

It’s visuals are arguably even more stupefying given the nine years between Innocence and its predecessor. Opting for a glistening warm gold palette as opposed to a cold, dreary of muted grays and blues it is conveyed so in a way that feels almost like a wolf in sheep’s clothing effect, or at the very least a wolf in different clothing. If art direction and fidelity are your thing, look no further. 

Kenji Kawai’s score further imbues the sense of unease and atmosphere that is a staple of Oshii’s oeuvre. Although it does reuse songs from the original, that does not detract from just how well in conjunction with Oshii’s direction Kawaii’s score brings the world of Ghost In The Shell to life in a remarkably atypical fashion. In fact I would argue that it suits the noir cyberpunk direction it is clearly going for even better than the more post cyberpunk proceedings of the original.

It can’t come as a surprise based on everything I’ve written thus far that Ghost In The Shell employs a narrative told through a deliberate pace, flowery and verbose dialogue as well as a heavy helping of philosophical mettle. Innocence is no different, but doubling down on the philosophy element to an excruciating amount to the point where I don't think it's necessarily a bad story, rather I believe that it is poorly communicated. Characters often speak as though they are thinking to themselves out loud as opposed to working off of one another to bring the themes to life and move the narrative forward.

It all contributes to the glacial pace of the proceedings. It almost felt as if they were detached from reality, which could be fully deliberate considering a key component of the work is the idea that the more we mechanize ourselves the more we toy with dehumanizing ourselves and losing our identity not just as an individual, but as a collective species to resemble something far more cold and vacant, transcending or reducing ourselves to something unrecognizable to our original form, in one case a godlike entity, and in another nothing more than a doll. I think this is more well done in Stand Alone Complex as the characters in that continuity spoke in much more natural ways combined with the juxtaposition of the human characters and the tachikoma working to build the man and machine dichotomy.

It makes me think, certainly a lot, it’s very profound, of course you guys know I’m drawn to these works of fiction, but it distracts from what the main pull of the narrative is more often than it clarifies. In a philosophy class it might be an A+, but in a medium of storytelling, especially film which has a limited time, in which the intention is to tell a story, the results are far more mixed. It’s entirely likely and probably true that it’s too smart for someone as intellectually challenged as myself. And that's my fault but I can't imagine I'm the only one.

Not that narrative can’t be fed through only dialogue, especially in an art form as visual as animation, but Innocence sure is asking a lot of its other elements to carry the extremely heavy baggage of the story it is trying to tell. The usage of dolls as a motif and the Taiwanese parade process are a couple of very smart uses of visual storytelling and thematic enhancement. 

Despite all you may have read in the past couple of paragraphs that may suggest otherwise, I do not think this is a bad film, not close to bad actually. Rather an above average film that aims way higher than most would even try. I cannot commend Mamoru Oshii and his team enough for having the ambition, the intellect, maybe even the audacity to believe that a piece such as Ghost In The Shell 2 can exist. It’s a fascinating thing to behold and it's unafraid. In fact I get a smile on my face thinking about Mr. Oshii excitedly gathering all of the elements in his mind to create this piece. Even if they didn't fall into place as well as previous efforts.

Even if it’s narrative feels far too removed, it’s pieces like these that remind me why I believe in auteur theory, essentially the idea that an ambitious failure is fundamentally more interesting than a conventional success. The works of art with higher aspirations will inherently stick with me more, even if it doesn’t stick the landing I can appreciate and value the attempt and reckless abandon more than the safety of familiarity.