n the dystopic future of Toward the Terra, a battered humanity has abandoned its ecologically devastated homeworld and relinquished control to computers. All new humans are spawned in test tubes, delivered to randomly selected couples, and then raised to age 14. On their "Waking Day," they're taken to space stations where their memories are erased and they become blank slates suitable for training as good, obedient citizens.
But sometimes a Waking child develops psychic powers. These psychics, called Mu, can fight off mental conditioning and are considered a threat to the reverentially praised "SD System," which rules human life. If they can escape summary execution--not likely, since Mu usually have weak or damaged bodies to balance out their overdeveloped brains--they may come to live in a community apart from regular humans. The Mu, unlike normals, are aware they aren't living on Earth, and they long to return "home."
Jomy Shin, a 14-year-old who has no idea he's about to be hunted by humans and embraced by the Mu, is an exception to the rule. He has a strong young body as well as a strong young mind, and despite his horror and loathing of the Mu, he becomes their chosen leader. They'll certainly need someone of his mental and physical power to combat humanity's new leader, an exceptional boy who is controlled by humankind's computers, but still remains independent enough to ask the significant question, "If the computers' system is perfect and in complete control, why is it still permitting Mu to be born?"
A rolling stone gathers no plot
Toward the Terra is one of two anime classics The Right Stuf is reissuing at a new low price, which makes this a good time to see some of the earliest anime formally available in America. This 1980 space opera by Hideo Onchi was based on 1977 manga, but shows obvious influences from 1940's Slan, including the protagonist's name and the nature of his reclusive, intelligent sect. Terra also suffers some of Slan's faults, including a protracted story whose rushed ending doesn't quite live up to its fascinatingly detailed beginning.
Terra's scope is admittedly awe-inspiring; it's a multigenerational saga that follows Jomy and his rival from childhood to parenthood, tracking the influences on their lives, but borrowing support from a network of leisurely, convoluted plot trails. The whole piece could easily be seen as an allegory for Japanese society, but it functions perfectly well as a coming-of-age space adventure, at least until the story speeds up and crashes to an abrupt and melancholy ending.
The animation is limited--apart from the shape and color of the characters' spiky hair, they all look virtually identical, with blank and simple faces that barely convey even the most strenuous emotions--and the cloying music, particularly the appalling closing number, is best ignored. But the original Japanese voices are excellent, particularly the resonant male leads. And the intricate plot and fascinatingly scripted society proves that this is a genre classic devoted to substance over style.
