ain Blueriver is a freelance troubleshooter who roams the galaxy solving problems ranging from a stolen tea set to a runaway hyperdrive ship with planet-obliterating potential. Millie Nocturne is a freelance troublemaker who's determined to be the best in the universe at something, seemingly anything. Both are cocky, conceited, loud and very good at what they do, at least up to a point. Their accidental collision in the ventilation system of a space Mafia's secret base marks the beginning of a typical anime crime-fighters' partnership: one part sublimated affection, one part mutual disgust and about ten parts noisy one-upmanship.
After Kain explosively resolves the Mafia problem, Millie loses her job as a detective and brashly invites herself on board Kain's ship and into his life. She quickly notices that Swordbreaker is not an ordinary spaceship--it's run by an intelligent (not to mention jealous and bossy) hologram named Canal, it has unprecedented weaponry, and it "breaks all laws of physics and mathematics!" In fact, the Swordbreaker is a "lost ship," part of an ancient and dead technology that far surpasses current knowledge. Kain admits the ship was bequeathed to him by his grandmother, who also left him with a never-ending series of helpful homilies such as "a man who makes a woman cry should be thrown off a cliff."
But introspection and curiosity aren't Millie's strong points, and soon she's buzzing possessively around the ship, fighting with Canal, signing Kain up for dangerous jobs, and blowing up the kitchen on a regular basis (although, unlike most anime action heroines, she can cook excellent food, she just causes a lot of collateral damage in the process).
In each increasingly silly episode, she, Kain and Canal take on a new case, from escort duty to security work, although Millie finds time to compete in the occasional beauty pageant. And in each episode the rivalry between Millie and Canal gets shriller, while Kain mostly kicks back and obsesses about the condition of his many identical capes.
Cowboy Bebop sucked into a jet
While many modern anime series start out goofy and then go grim, Lost Universe is pure slapstick, unable to maintain a serious mood for more than 30 seconds. Slayers TV director Takashi Watanabe pours on the adrenaline, keeping his characters moving at jet speed. (ADV's dub reflects this by having them speak at jet speed, pitch and volume. Ow.)
But this blisteringly hyper series feels less like a spaceborne Slayers than like a satire of popular anime space opera. It has a bit of the flash and chummy arrogance of the original Dirty Pair. Kain and Millie's personalities are almost identical--in an amplified, cartoony way--to Spike and Faye Valentine in Cowboy Bebop, right down to Millie/Faye's incomprehensibly pushy "I've invited myself aboard this ship so now I own it and you" attitude. Canal, as a bubbling Sasami clone with a girlish giggle perpetually caught in her throat, would make a very odd rendition of Bebop's grave, laconic Jet. But she does serve a similar purpose, as the anchor who guards the ship and provides the information.
Each of these opening installments is a joke adventure careening around a predictable pattern--Millie and Canal argue, the trio accepts a new job, they get in way over their heads, then they clamber back into gear amid slapstick, squabbling and giant beads of sweat. While some of these episodes at least shoot for drama, they're too manic and nonsensical to come close. The best installments abandon all pretense of realism--as when Kain ends up refereeing between two murderous teams of feuding nurse-trainees in a spaceborne university, or when the trio takes on a squad of chicken-costumed terrorists pushing a chicken-worship agenda. In both cases, the situation rapidly progresses to beyond ridiculous, and just gets weird from there, which lets the show's breathless intensity outweigh its shallowness.
As with so many recent anime series, one of the main problems with Lost Universe is that the characters just aren't very likable, or even comprehensible. Millie's self-centeredness, Kain's bland narcissism and Canal's childish squalling quickly start to grate. Laughing at the characters instead of with them is enjoyable for a while, but eventually the shrill smugness--like the noise level--becomes excessive. Lost Universe is as colorful and fun as a bowl of sugar-laced kiddie cereal, but it's also as devoid of substance and should probably be taken in the same small doses.
