Fullmetal Alchemist the Movie: The Conqueror of Shamballa

To sum up this theatrical continuation of the Fullmetal Alchemist television series in two words: mixed blessing. There’s no denying that Conqueror of Shamballa hits many of the right notes, but leaves some areas wishing for a bit more time and care put into them.

The story is set three years after the conclusion of the television series, with the events that transpired in the final episodes leaving Edward and Alphonse Elric separated between two parallel worlds. Edward now resides in pre-World War II Nazi Germany, studying rocketry and longing for his homeworld of Amestris, and Alphonse, who wanders through the country searching for a way to recover his brother. Unknown to Edward, an occultist group sponsored by the Nazis known as the Thule Society has discovered the existence of the parallel world of Amestris, which they refer to as “Shamballa”. Assuming Ed and Al’s homeworld yields new and advanced technology that will lend itself to the Nazi’s planned takeover of Europe, the Thule Society, directed by the cruel Dietlinde Eckhart, plans to open a portal to “Shamballa” and invade it. As Edward becomes involved in the Thule Society’s plot, the actions of Alphonse, the three surviving homunculi scattered across both worlds, and Ed and Al’s father, Van Hohenheim, threaten to bring Eckhart’s plan toward fruition. This first half of the film leaves little to complain about, moving at a perfect pace and slowly ushering the audience into the story. Once it starts to build to the grand, final battle however, some flies can be noticed in the ointment.

Compared to the original manga, the animated adaptation of Fullmetal Alchemist was noticeably more character driven. While the action of the manga revolves around an epic “fate of the world” plot, the anime was much lower key and put more emphasis on the decisions and inner workings of both the protagonists and antagonists. While it occasionally fell into the realm of cliché while doing so, the anime storyline ultimately has more emotional impact. It was hard not to feel sorry for even the most ruthless and cruel of the anime’s villains once you understood exactly what motivated them. In Conqueror of Shamballa, director Seiji Mizushima and writer Shou Aikawa choose to take the opposite direction, probably due to the fact that they had two hours to tell their story as opposed to the twenty hours they had for the series.

Familiar characters like the Elric Brothers and Roy Mustang have strong emotional arcs that run throughout the film, dealing with their respective realization of responsibility and requisition of a sense purpose. On the other hand, some others suffer. Out of the three surviving Homunculi, Envy, Wrath, and Gluttony, only Wrath seems properly handled. His character carries a nice and tragic subplot that functions well within the greater context of the story, moving it forward while still providing a satisfying close to his arc. Gluttony’s portrayal as a mindless beast somewhat excuses his lack of development, but his abrupt entrance and quick exit from the story highlight the nature of his character as a plot device. Out of the three homunculi though, Envy suffers the most. His grudge against Hohenheim is finally brought to a conclusion, but is done so in a quick, cheap, and unsatisfying manner that allows no sense of a proper end and renders him a simple plot device. The abrupt manner in which the antagonists of the series serve their roles in the story is only made more tragic by the new villains introduced in the film, who feel by comparison rather flat.

No character however, has a more unsatisfying role than Van Hohenheim, whose treatment is absolutely pathetic. The character suffered enough from a lack of screentime in the series, but at least had a strong emotional weight that accompanied his history and motivations. As with the series, it is Hohenheim’s offscreen actions that begin the film’s story, but in the end he doesn’t amount to much more than another cheap device to moving the “Nazi Invasion” storyline forward. Appearing for no more than two minutes, he performs an action that begins the final battle and departs, bringing a disgustingly abrupt end to his character. The fact that no one ever mentions him again after he serves his purpose in the plot serves as a bitter testament to how little writer Aikawa cared for the plenty compelling character.

Despite the rocky treatment of familiar characters, the new protagonists fare decently. Alfons Heidrich stands out as the most well rendered of them, having a strong and tragic motivation and character arc that accompanies the development of Edward’s character and lends some nice emotional power to the film. Officer Hughes, a parallel version of Amestris’ Maes Hughes, is another nice player in the story, especially considering the viewer’s familiarity with the other version of the character and his ultimate fate. The fact that he plays a decent role is a nice thing for fans of the original character (such as myself) to see. On the other hand, some new characters have a few problems. The Gypsy Noa, despite her sizeable screentime, comes across as a bit unlikable and cliché, and as entertaining as it was to see a “nice” incarnation of King Bradley in the form of Fritz Lang, he feels a bit unnecessary overall.

My final bone to pick with the film is the way it ultimately ends. A traditional “happy ending” would have functioned counter to the overall thematic structure of Fullmetal Alchemist, so a lack of one here isn’t a problem. The issue here is how open ended the denouement is, especially considering this is supposedly the final installment of the Fullmetal Alchemist anime storyline. While it’s true that all threads left untied at the end of the television series are addressed in this film, its ultimate conclusion plays out as a lead in to a second series, which to my knowledge, isn’t going to materialize (it’s true a new anime is in production, but no word on whether it’s a continuation of this film or a more faithful adaptation of the almost-finished manga). The ultimate flaw of Conqueror of Shamballa, which functions as both a part of the character development and the ending, is that it just doesn’t feel like a satisfying goodbye.

While Conqueror of Shamballa may disappoint a bit in terms of story and characters, it’s superb from a visual and auditory standpoint. The animation is wonderful and fluid, a perfect combination of traditional methods and CGI. The action sequences are a treat for the eyes, well directed and animated. The older bunch of voice actors deliver typically strong performances, and the cast of characters exclusive to this film are also well portrayed by a selection of new voices unfamiliar with the anime industry. In terms of music, Michiru Oshima delivers a nice score that accompanies the action nicely although like her work on the series, it doesn’t have the stand alone appeal of one of her Godzilla scores. Like the TV series, Conqueror of Shamballa opens and ends with a song from a contemporary Japanese artist. In this case, it’s L-arc-en-ciel, who provided the second opening of the anime series. Both of their songs here are some pretty good tunes and set the right mood of their respective positions in the film.

Fullmetal Alchemist the Movie: The Conqueror of Shamballa is an overall enjoyable anime flick with some fundamental issues. As a capper to the Fullmetal Alchemist series, I can’t really say it does its’ job, but ultimately is a worthy entry in FMA canon.

The Plague Dogs

It probably doesn’t take much guessing to discern why Martin Rosen’s The Plague Dogs seems to have a commercial appeal as gaunt as the film’s furry protagonists by the end. While both the folks responsible for putting Grave of the Fireflies in children’s film festivals and general audiences seem to finally be recognizing more adult approaches to animation as a valid medium that stands apart from children’s fare, this film’s obscurity is probably proof enough that audiences still can’t stand to see animated furries meet a cruel fate. Among a slew of predictable animated adventures of anthropomorphic domestic animals, The Plague Dogs is a most unconventional beast, although one that’s most certainly more memorable than its cult status would suggest.

An ominous series of shots of a water tank open the film, followed by the image of a black dog struggling to keep above the water. He eventually loses his strength and sinks, only to be recovered by men in lab coats and revitalized with an air tube. It is this heart melting sequence that sets the tone for the film and will probably have children cowering and bawling. The fact that this scene occurs before even the five minute mark foreshadows the sheer emotional poignancy of the film.

The dog, known as Rowf, ends up escaping his holding pen in the animal research center in which he is held. Following him in a hellish journey through a darkened laboratory is a fox terrier named Snitter, who has undergone experimental brain surgery that renders him subject to dementia and hallucinations. Escaping through an incinerator chute, the two dogs reach the outside world and flee to the surrounding countryside. Snitter, despite his horrible abuse by men, dreams of reacquiring the life he had with his benevolent former master. Rowf on the other hand, has been hopelessly embittered by his treatment and dismisses Snitter’s optimism. It is their fear of mistreatment, as well as their interactions revolving around their varying pessimism that influence their actions around humans. These actions end up deciding the difference between friend and foe and cause the same people who could have just as easily treated the dogs warmly to shun them.

Unable to win the compassion of any human beings, Snitter and Rowf decide to become wild animals and kill to survive. They luckily come across a tod (male fox), who agrees to help them hunt in exchange for part of their kills. The dog’s actions are eventually noticed by local farmers and a hunt ensues. The situation escalates when a newspaper reporter gets wind of the dog’s escape and inflates the story to bigger proportions when suggesting that the dogs may have contracted an experimental strain of bubonic plague during their breakout attempt. This, and the desperate actions taken by the dogs, gets the British government, and ultimately, a battalion of soldiers involved in the situation.

In dealing with the human characters and their reaction to the undertakings of the Plague Dogs, Rosen takes a far different approach from that of the novel, offering up much of the novel’s deeper characterizations of its human characters. Characters such as Stephen Powell and the female version of the novel’s Digby Driver had fully realized conflicts and personalities. Here, they and the rest of the human characters have been reduced to figures with obscured faces and disembodied voices that foreshadow what is about to visually appear. Though the sacrifice of character development is not unwarranted here, it does somewhat dilute the strength of Adams’ message.

Regardless of what changes have been made to the portrayal of the two legged characters, the Plague Dogs themselves are wonderfully realized protagonists. The characters experience a simultaneous rise and fall that’s both heartbreaking and uplifting. Seeing the initially optimistic Snitter’s mind eaten away by his horrifying hallucinations and his hope betrayed by bad decisions and simple mistakes provides for an interesting and piercing conflict. Rowf on the other hand, undergoes an opposite growth of character. By the end of the film it is they who have traded roles. The tod too, proves to be a rather interesting protagonist. Though it is the intervention of the tod that keeps the dogs alive, it’s hard not to see certain malevolence in his in gaze as he watches the dogs kill to survive, almost as if encouraging a descent into an irredeemable, sinful state of being. While the novel handled this questioning of the limitations of innocence in the form of a biblical allegory, this angle has been all but wiped clean from the film adaptation. Nevertheless, Rosen keeps the central questions intact and functioning well within the context of his version of the story. The superbly realized emotional development of the characters culminates in a short, but deeply moving moment at the very end that highlights the very real sense of friendship between the dogs and the preservation of their inner nobility despite the damning actions they undertake throughout the film. This ending, which differentiates starkly in tone from the novel, is ultimately the better denouement. The novel’s ending is certainly more conclusive and upbeat, but I can’t help but find it a bit contrived. The film version throws away the contrivances of the novel and opts for a more ambiguous and darker route. Ultimately, the end result is indescribably powerful and escalates to untold levels of poignancy when Alan Price’s moving “Time and Tide” plays over the end credits.

Though I’d hesitate to slap on the title of “masterpiece”, Martin Rosen’s adaptation of The Plague Dogs is certainly worthy of standing against his superb “Watership Down” and earn a deserved status of animated classic.