War’s Uncertain Inevitability
Mamoru Oshii is an undoubtedly talented director, and a seemingly quite troubled, introspective person. This leads him to utilize his film-making less as form of entertainment and more as a vehicle to reflect upon the tensions within his own mind and that which he sees in the world. He has a way of exposing these tensions through his messaging that is more effective than the vast majority of other directors. He likes to at times drop all pretense of a story being told and have his characters come off almost as if they are speaking directly to us, the audience, usually delivering the core thrusts of the messaging. This makes his works often feel like a single statement wrapped within an atmosphere built up for the sole purpose of delivering that statement rather than a conventional narrative—often quite poetic in execution. This is I think where I like him most as a director. When he commits to a more personal and honest reflection. Angel’s Egg, this, and the patlabor films are him admitting that he doesn’t have the answers to certain issues but wishing to explore them nonetheless–and even further, express the very uncertainty he has regarding them. While Angel’s Egg’s style, setting, and concept make it a more captivating film to me, I think this is potentially more impressive in its meticulous expression of uncertainty, despite a meandering first half. It tackles a more specific issue than Angel’s Egg, allowing it be more narratively sound–but it doesn’t end up losing the profound effect of ambiguity Angel’s Egg captures. It does this by using the specific topics it covers to branch out and resonate over wider issues as well, the core emotions it’s expressing being fundamental to all kinds of things.
The Sky Crawlers is a haunting rumination on humanity and its relationship with war. It is a deep examination of the overwhelming and conflicting thoughts Oshii himself has surrounding war. These thoughts come together to create a harsh and somber tone; A harshness in the film's unforgiving depiction of reality, and a sadness in its reflection upon that reality.
It depicts a community of people, the Kildren, who feel lost in the world and circumstances they inhabit, but continue to execute their jobs as pilots in a war unwaveringly. The Kildren lead a fleeting and tragic existence in which they never grow up, can only die in warfare, and are then reborn as a new Kildren with little to no memories of their past life. The bare amount of artificial memories necessary are implanted into them when they are reborn in order to sustain their purpose for the powers that be as pilots in the war. They wander throughout their lives within an illusion, hazy and jaded from themselves and reality, largely unquestioning of their circumstances. The Kildren are us.
Humanity moves along throughout time constantly waging wars. War has become an almost presupposed inevitability. We as individuals inherit this reality as we grow up with countless presuppositions such as this pushed onto us simply as a result of our environments. In a way, we are a reborn version of those in the past, with their actions effecting our realities and scraps of information or memories being left over to us in the form of recorded history. These presuppositions and the general knowledge afforded to us (and lack thereof) that reinforces them create an illusion we walk our lives within, like the Kildren. This illusion often serves those in power and the sustaining of destructive practices such as war. It’s used to create manufactured consent. The Sky Crawlers is an exploration of the ways in which this manifests.
“Having wars going on out there somewhere sustains the illusion of peace in our society.”
This is used to simultaneously maintain the presupposition of the inevitability of war and distract us from other presuppositions we might be making regarding our own existing structures of society. Kusanagi at one point in the film outlines the utilization of war as a business framed with a photo of old white men behind her, presumably former war generals and celebrated people in positions of power. This serves as a representation of the powers which the business of war benefits. “Teacher”, the unbeatable enemy plane, is also a representation of these illusions subdued onto us. When the enemy is unbeatable, the war will never end; This “unbeatable” status it has being sustained by the power and very real effects behind it. Consequently, war itself is seen as an unbeatable prospect of humanity. This film asks if it really is unbeatable.
The hazy, powerless existence we lead, subject to the illusions crafted all around us is what the Kildren are used to express. Every conversation in the film is tinted with a hint of unease. Each character seems to be simply going along with their circumstances ignoring their lack of understanding. CGI animation is used at times to imitate real life with odd shots of cigarettes, landscapes, and planes. This makes the film feel like an animated production in which real life is bleeding into–reinforcing the harsh reality of its depiction.
At times the Kildren cling to the little comforts they are afforded, such as sexual intimacy, while at others they stare blankly at the sky, lost, and without the ability to change anything about it. This duality of their existence, of our existence, is represented poignantly in the scene where Kanami and Kusanagi embrace each other in a fit of passion after all they’ve been through. As they do so, the frame creeps over to display their hands clutching a gun. Just as they cling to the gun despite embracing each other romantically, humanity seems to morbidly cling to war and violence no matter the circumstances.
Through the perpetual haze of their existence, the Kildren sometimes have moments of clarity. At a fundamental level they are aware of their lack of understanding–they have sentience. Kusanagi, having lived much longer than most other Kildren, perhaps longer than she is supposed to, gains more understanding than the others. This leads her to have to grapple more directly with everything. Because of this, she chose to kill Jinroh whom she loved in an attempt to release him from this tragic reality. Kusanagi’s struggle to come to terms with her circumstances and the growth Kanami exhibits toward this point display Oshii’s personal struggle with these issues. As he looks more closely at humanity and the world around him, he comes to a barrier of understanding. A point that causes tension and distress. He sees the endless cycle of war humanity is stuck in. He sees that it being an inevitability is a presupposition pushed onto us, and therefore the possibility for some kind of change. He then asks himself if war could ever be entirely done away with, if it is actually beatable, and he has no answer.
“You can change the side of the road that you walk down everyday. Even if the road is the same, you can still see new things. Isn’t that enough to live for? Or does that mean that it isn’t enough?”
Oshii ultimately feels powerless in the face of human nature and issues at such a large scale as this–as everyone does. He asks us, the audience, if life—if the project of humanity—is worth it in spite of all of this. Through it being seen as taboo that Kusanagi has had a child of her own, he asks if bringing a child into this tragic cycle is a cruel thing to do. The film ends with Kanami telling Kusanagi she must live on until some sort of meaningful change opens up. He then challenges the enemy plane, Teacher, a representation of the illusion that sustains this perpetual war. Him defeating Teacher would seemingly be what is necessary to facilitate a meaningful change. However, he simply isn’t able to, and is killed in the process. An illusion that has the power behind it to exert its effect on the world dictates reality just as much as anything else. After Kanami is killed by Teacher, we see the other Kildren all standing together outside the hangar looking up at the sky waiting for him to return. As time passes, they give up and leave, returning back to their tragic roles in the unchanged cycle of war.
This ending, while certainly depressing, I believe can be seen two different ways. Most likely, it is simply a nihilistic resignation. Given his powerlessness, Kanami was unable to break the cycle, and the question of whether the prospect of war can be overcome or not is left entirely unanswered. Or, it could be seen as an implicit call for more united and direct action to be made. Because of the Kildren’s hazy uncertainty, they resigned themselves to their fate after seeing that Kanami failed, thinking they simply are unable to overcome the powers that be. Therefore, the film is trying to highlight that, exactly where they failed. An awareness of the illusions around us, as this film itself tries to bring to us, can be built upon over time, and through united, direct action, perhaps they can be broken through entirely. And I think it was intentionally left up to interpretation in this way–expressing Oshii’s ultimate uncertainty. An uncertainty that haunts everyone’s lives in a variety of ways, and a powerful emotion, or range of emotions, that is expressed in this film.