hen Tokiko Mima's grandfather dies, she's certain that she, too, faces
death, since he's the robotics genius who designed her and kept her body
functioning. But old Murao Mima leaves behind a recorded promise. Tokiko
can become human, he claims, if she borrows the required "great power" from
enough true friends, "... approximately 30,000 of them."
So Tokiko, nicknamed "Key," sets off for Tokyo to explore the worlds of "great power" where she might obtain 30,000 followers. There's religious leadership, embodied by a clown-costumed Snake-God priest. Or pop superstardom, suggested by the success of "idol singer" Miho. Or, Key's friend from school Sakura suggests bitterly, she could accept the
blandishments of a fast-talking pornographer/agent and win the love of
"30,000 frustrated men."
As Key searches for a route to humanity, maniacal industry leader Jinsaku Ajo heads in the opposite direction, attempting to perfect a breed
of powerful slave robots. Jinsaku had employed Key's grandfather to help
refine his bulky, mindless soldiers, and he is seemingly responsible for
Murao's supposedly accidental death. This link may explain Key's
devastating effects on Ajo's prototypes.
But is Key really a robot? Her friends humor her, but
secretly suggest her delusions are an escape from some childhood trauma.
Key's own memories argue otherwise, but they seem to conflict with her habit of experiencing extreme emotion in extreme situations--and not remembering the emotions afterwards. Or is this just part of a unique robot's struggle to become human?
Like watching flowers unfold
There are a variety of mysteries at work in the unfolding of this
eight-volume OVA series, and writer/director Hiroaki Sato takes his time
in developing them. Key's true nature, her strange powers, and her thoughts
at any given moment are hidden behind an expressionless face and
luminescent, empty purple eyes. Those around her--the dual-natured Miho,
mercurial Sakura, psychotic Jinsaku and his icy underling "D"--all have
secrets to hide as well, and their reluctant revelations fall into place
amid a sea of heart-rending, lyrical images and shattered staccato gasps
in time.
Key's pacing is exquisite, but the poetic imagery is even
more compelling, as Key stares at a palmful of water in a forest, or Sakura
pulls her to safety in a welter of still-framed heartbeats, or Jinsaku
fondles dismembered pieces of his robotic "children." Sato ends each
episode on a pause, a moment of sudden recognition and welling emotion
between moments. His motif of slicing linear time into discrete and often
nonlinear fragments lends this entire series a sense of breathless
discovery.
The animation style, too, hides surprises in the interstices between
visible moments. In one fight sequence, a series of transparent, blurred
overlays lends an illusion of real video quality to a tumbling body, while
sharp-edged micro-detail gives other scenes the richness of high-quality
film. The plot may be Pinocchio, but the execution is more reminiscent of
Akira Kurosawa. Clearly this is a series to follow closely.
