Netflix’s newest anime is a bit different from their usual. Instead of something completely original, Ultraman is part of a franchise 53 years in the making. And while it is an interesting reimagining of one of Japan’s most important superhero shows, it also shares in one of the biggest problems of those classic shows: selective amnesia.
Netflix’s Ultraman is a direct sequel to the original 1966 Ultraman and is set in a timeline where none of the other Ultraman series ever happened–though that’s not to say it isn’t filled to the brim with fanservice for longtime fans. It’s got subsequent Ultramen, Ultra Seven and Ultraman Ace, to fill out the supporting cast. It also alludes to characters and famous scenes from various series. And as for the aliens–well let’s just say that while many are getting a major facelift, almost all have shown up in the franchise before.
But It’s not in the nostalgia area when Ultraman fails. Rather, it’s in its own internal consistency. Or to put it another way, much of the drama in Ultraman occurs because the various characters seem to conveniently forget their powers.
The most egregious of these is Shinjiro’s “limiter release.” While the original Ultraman could only grow in size for a limited time, Shinjiro can only utilize his full power for a limited time. During this time, his speed and strength are augmented to such a level that he is faster than a person with super speed and can fire blasts so powerful he can vaporize an opponent. Granted using this form leaves him exhausted when it’s done but for three minutes, he is basically a god.
The limiter release ability is revealed in the fourth episode of the series–wherein the populous at large learns that aliens are still on the planet thanks to a battle between one such alien and Shinjiro. The next time it’s used–much less mentioned–is in episode 13, the season’s final episode.
The problem is that every single battle Shinjiro faces in between could have likely been won by releasing the limiter. Of course, saving it as a trump card makes sense–no need to use it if you can win without it–but when you’re literally struggling to hold up a roof above hundreds of concert goers and the woman on stage is being held at knifepoint, that seems the perfect time for a combo of super strength and super speed.
And it’s not like the idea of releasing the limiter is brought up but discarded for some in-universe reason. It is simply not mentioned–like if it’s never brought up, we the audience will forget about it, just like the characters seem to have.
Of course, that’s not the only thing treated as “out of sight, out of mind” in Ultraman. Shinjiro’s romantic foil for the series, Rena, is a pop-idol that claims to be a hardcore Ultraman fan. However, in reality, it’s the opposite. While she doesn’t exactly hate superheroes, she feels that they can do better. She believes that they are too pragmatic in their heroism and only care about defeating their enemy. She worries they don’t care about the collateral damage they cause–about the lives lost just from being near a fight between heroes and alien monsters. And she’s right: Dan is very much that way. He’s so focused on the big goal that he doesn’t even question his way of doing it.
But while Rena decides that Shinjiro is not like that–that he is a hero who at the very least strives to save everyone even as he fights the monsters–this is hardly the case. In his naivete, he’s rather flagrant about not noticing the collateral damage his actions cause unless a potential victim is literally staring him in the face. Even in the aforementioned concert scene that wins Rena over, he causes an unprecedented amount of collateral damage.
To save the concert audience from the roof collapsing onto them, he takes the roof, flys into the sky, throws it, and shoots it with a Spacium Beam. Now, while he acts like this is enough and returns to fight the monster in the concert venue, we clearly see that shooting the roof with the beam didn’t vaporize it: instead, the roof just exploded. This means that rather than a single solid roof crushing some cars or a single building, he creates a rain of shrapnel spread over a much larger area. And as he did this in the middle of Shibuya, one of Tokyo’s most populated areas, it’s pretty obvious he potentially just killed a lot of people–at least a lot more than if he’d have just chucked the roof wholesale (or, I don’t know, set it down gently in the street).
However, the show simply ignores this. For all it’s musings on collateral damage in superhero stories, the moment that roof goes up in a fiery explosion it’s completely forgotten about. And it’s not the only time this happens.
More than once Shinjiro fights it out in the Shibuya Scramble. The most famous (and crowded) pedestrian crossing in the country. Cars are wrecked en masse as onlookers gape as laser beams shoot around. But because we don’t directly see anyone injured we’re expected to believe no one is.
Now, the problem isn’t that collateral damage is ignored. Many a tokusatsu show largely ignore this aspect of their big robot battles in the middle of a city–at least until the final climactic battle where all seems lost and the town lies largely in ruins. However, in those cases, this is simply part of the suspension of disbelief needed to best appeal to the target demographic–i.e., children. They wanna see the hero beat the bad guy, not worry about how a stray beam attack hit a building killing a dozen people doing office work.
However, Netflix’s Ultraman goes out of its way to focus on the idea of unseen collateral damage. Then, in the same breath, ignores when said damage is happening. In this way, the anime undercuts itself and by undercutting its main theme. And this really pulls the anime down.
In the end, just because Netflix’s Ultraman and the characters within have selective amnesia about these things doesn’t mean should be expected to.
Ultraman can be seen both subbed and dubbed on Netflix.
Top image Copyright: ©TSUBURAYA PRODUCTIONS ©Eiichi Shimizu,Tomohiro Shimoguchi ©ULTRAMAN製作委員会
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