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The Time of Eve (Ibu no Jikan in Japanese) is an anime series by Studio Rikka and DIRECTIONS Inc that includes 2D animation cells on 3D backgrounds textured and animated to look 2D. Which is akin to saying “this DVD has a shiny, mirror-like surface”. It’s standard practice in today’s anime industry and until animators find a better way to merge the worlds of cell-painted anime and CGI we’ll be seeing quite a bit more of it no doubt. |
So Time of Eve may not be the Avatar of the anime world, but it has taken on a life of its own in the last year and it seems the show is finally ready to stop skulking around in alleyways and start hitting the international market. Something about the show seems to hitting home. But what exactly is it that makes this show so timely? |
Plot point: in the future a young man named Rikuo takes robots for granted until he begins to suspect his own helper Sammy has been coming and going in secret, of her own volition.
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The series has gone on an exciting journey from being streamed on Yahoo Japan back in 2008 to receiving a theatrical release two years later on 6 March 2010. Time of Eve the Movie: First Season Complete Edition is, as the title suggests, a collection of the episodes taken from their tiny internet streaming windows and blasted onto the silver screen. |
That’s a big journey for an anime to go on. That’s usually a sure sign that its not appealing to sci-fi nerds alone, but has something about it speaking to our common humanity. Which is apt as its an anime about exactly that. Besides which it’s a really good-looking show. |
Plot point: searching Sammy’s activity log, Rikuo finds a mysterious expression, “are you enjoying the Time of Eve?” A line which he manages to trace back to a cafe called The Time of Eve to which it seems his trusty robotic slave has been secretly taking five. This is his first clue that serving him may not be fulfilling her every need. The implications of this revelation send him reeling.
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The aesthetic of the show reflects its subject matter. The color palette and lighting suggest the near future without resorting to tacky cliche. It’s a somehow washed out and everything glows as if in slightly soft focus. It’s a slightly less abrasive way of suggesting the future that JJ Abrams’ recent Star Trek remake’s visual motif of multicolored lens flare. |
The camera pans, tracks and dives with a beautiful fluidity, but such moves are not over used. Instead they take the place of cuts and establishing shots. It’s almost as if the creative team behind the show has realised they are a convention that holds little relevance for CGI/anime hybrids and is making tiny inroads into dispensing with them altogether. |
Plot point: The Time of Eve is both solace and paradise to androids. It is a relaxed place, governed by rules promoting equality. For example robots can switch off their status rings, there is a “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach identity and the front door automatically locks for two minutes after a customer leaves to prevent patrons from being followed.
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This is not an action show and as beautiful and engaging as it it, what keeps you watching is not an ever-increasing pile of corpses. It has a mysterious and lighthearted tone. There is intrigue, but the characters are high school kids and no-one is put in mortal danger from the off in a hackneyed attempt to snatch your attention. Instead a world unfolds that, like the titular Time of Eve, one wants to spend more time in. The dialogue between the two leads especially, is delivered lightning quick in a bantering, manzai-esque (Japanese two-man stand-up comedy) style, which should be familiar to any fans of Preston Sturges. |
The plot thickens (where are the robots going and why?), the relationships unfold (how long have these two people been seeing each other and are they both human?), the mysteries deepen (how long have robots been secretly acting under their own will?) but it’s never as nefarious as iRobot, sorry that should’ve been I, Robot, and Blade Runner. It’s about people searching for love and fulfillment in a world of sad discrimination. |
Plot point: In the first episode it is implied that Rikuo’s best friend Masaki doesn’t keep a robot because his father is involved in anti-robot activism.
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In that respect it struck Of Rice and Zen as a rare example of an anime TV show that is actually worth thinking about as if it were not just throwaway entertainment. Perhaps living as a minority and being discriminated against makes one more sensitive to this reading, but it struck me how clearly Ibu no Jikan operates as a race allegory in modern day Japan. |
The show deals with the emergence of a second class of citizen that will inevitably emerge as a result of the population aging that is rapidly cannibalizing the Japanese economy, shrinking its workforce and creating a paucity of carers. The show posits the idea that carers will be robots who secretly yearn for more than indentured servitude. But surely this points to the far more likely short term outcome that Japan will need foreigners to perform the role of carer. It is already a growing trend that unskilled immigrants are being granted bed bath visas to cope with the issue. But just like Eve no Jikan’s portagonist, as much as Japan wants a class that exists only to toil, they too will come to yearn for more, to love, to plant roots, to settle and gradually to change the nature of Japanese society. Granted if one were to take Japan’s pop-culture as a guide to its prevailing feeling one could infer that its easier to make Japan care about the rights of robots than those of mirant workers. If one were so inclined. But its nice that Ibu no Jikan raises the issue. |
Plot point: the status ring that glows above a robot’s head is said to have associations with a Japanese government plan to issue all foreigners with foreigner registration card (gaijin card) that emits a radio signal so they can be scanned and checked on a database by any passing policeman without the need for a stop and search.
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The final mention must go to the sound, which is exemplary. Like Yasuhiro Yoshiura’s other classic, Pale Coccoon, the muted pastel shades of the color palette and the hum and glow of the near future world are perfectly complemented by the laid-back, future techno soundtrack. Yasuhiro somtimes leaves long comfortable silences in the dialogue, filling the soundscape with the sounds of technology and a judiciously employed, achingly trendy musical backdrop that makes you want to sink into the visual and aural world without even asking for the next plot point. |
It’s hard to write a script that includes screen directions like “images and music are awesome enough to entertain the viewer without a single word” and have the confidence that a minimalist approach will hold your viewers’ attention, but when Yoshiura is at the helm I don’t find myself getting restless. So the future of Japanese society is under the scanner in a very watchable way. At no point does this feel like hard work. Whether or not you want to bring to the text or to simply assume that nothing resonates for a reason, there’s plenty to enjoy about this fantastic show. |
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