Issue link: https://maltatoday.uberflip.com/i/1156727
8 maltatoday | SUNDAY • 18 AUGUST 2019 FILM FILM IT should come as no surprise that streaming giant Netflix, now available to a global audi- ence, would want to build up a hefty back catalogue of docu- mentaries, and neither is it surprising that a sizeable per- centage of these documenta- ries derive from evergreen sub- genres within that umbrella, such as true crime, with its Making a Murderer becoming a widespread sensation whose implications even bled into the real-world legalities of the con- tested sexual assault case being placed under the microscope during that docudrama mini- series. But documentaries do come in all shapes and sizes. In part, this is because they are a sto- ry-telling genre like any other, though the fact that they tend to be a lot cheaper to make by proxy when compared to their fictional feature film or se- ries counterparts but also be a draw for the famously content- hungry, quantity-over-quality entertainment provider. And when a documentary can serve as an extended pro- motional piece for your own back catalogue, that's a win- win, right? Well yes, for Netf- lix, but not necessarily for the audience. Sadly, this is precise- ly what's happened with Enter the Anime, the freshly-landed one-hour foray into Japanese animation. Directed and presented by self-confessed anime newbie Alex Burunova, the docu- mentary finds our bewildered guide starting out with a key question: how does a nation so seemingly 'prim and proper' produce such a vibrant, en- ergetic but also multi-faceted and often ultra-violent style of animation and unleash it on the unsuspecting world? It's a question whose loaded – not to mention cringingly broad- brush – implications are en- tirely too ambitious for a one- hour documentary, much less one that appears to have zero concern for proper histori- cal context, a basic narrative thrust and a series of underly- ing motifs that aren't re-heated national stereotypes. To be entirely fair to the en- deavour, Burunova and her collaborators appear to want to make a virtue out of the confusion and ambiguity that they're faced with as they set out to explore anime. Each section is punctuated by Bu- runova resignedly announcing that she is 'even more confused now than when she started', and that 'instead of answers, all [she] got were more ques- tions'... and other cliche phras- es to that effect. It may have helped if she'd delved into the genre by plunging straight into its na- tive country of Japan, instead of wasting precious time in- terviewing Adi Shankar, the clownish producer of Netflix's admittedly brilliant video game adaptation anime, Castelvania. Shankar clearly fancies himself as something of an eccentric geek guru, and his arch procla- mations are shot entirely ear- nest when a better film-maker would have juiced them for unintentional comedy gold. Instead, aided along by rapid- fire stylised cutting redolent of 'MTV editing', it makes him out to be a live-action cartoon: just the kind of anime hero that the documentary thinks it needs to walk us into this fasci- nating, not-so-new world. This tells you all you need to know about just how shallow and glitz-obsessed the whole thing is, even when Burunova's supposedly probing gaze fi- nally does turn towards Japan. But once there, we are also regaled with gut-punchingly awful over-simplifications of Japanese culture, so bare-faced in their stereotypical obser- vations to be downright of- fensive. Now, it does all serve a purpose: more often than not, for Burunova to fall into a swoon over the contradictory nature of a 'quaint' and 'polite' nation that ends up producing the madcap romps that char- acterise the plots, characters and feel of anime. While the bulk of creators being interviewed here do manage to offer a worthwhile perspective on their projects and what they contribute to the contemporary anime land- scape, their insights are not given their due since they just end up lumped into a formless soup, whose purpose is simply to allow for Netflix-featured anime to bob onto the surface at key intervals. That it is all rendered in the cheap, fast-cutting method doesn't help matters along at all. There is one key excep- tion; Burunova's interview with Naoko Ogigami and Ma- sahito Kobayashi, the creators of the adorable stop-motion series Rilakkuma and Kaoru, in which an oversized teddy bear companion helps provides necessary emotional support to a young woman dealing with the hectic day-to-day necessi- ties of life. Far from using cute- ness – or to use the apposite nomenclature, 'kawaii' – as a cynical ploy to attract young- er viewers ala Hello Kitty, the quaintly constructed world of Rilakkuma and Kaoru comes from a deeper place. "I think it's important to take it easy," Ogigami explains, "because if you are too busy, you might end up forgetting to be nice to others". Surely, a one-hour explora- tion of how such a project exists to contrast – for one thing – Japan's overcharged office culture would make for a more worthwhile and en- riching experience than the overstretched advert we got instead. It may present itself as an eye- opening glimpse into Japanese animation, but Enter the Anime ends up being little more than a hastily put-together advertorial for Netf lix's anime backlog ENTER THE ANIME ENTER THE DRAGON ENTER SANDMAN ENTER THE VOID EXIT, PURSUED BY BEAR ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ The verdict Little more than a one- hour glossy advertorial for Netflix's current anime back catalogue – with a couple of forthcoming attractions thrown in for good measure – Enter the Anime is a thin, poorly executed and hastily edited attempt at getting at the root of this enduring pop culture phenomenon, while also managing to smear of- fensive orientalist stereo- types about Japanese culture all the while. Enter the Anime is current- ly streaming on Netflix Teodor Reljic ★ E N T E R T H E A N I M E ( 16 + ) Alex Burunova (centre) directs and presents Enter the Anime, an embarrassing hodge-podge of promo and offensive oriental stereotypes No use walking through this door