The Tatami Time Machine Blues may not have the same identical style as Masaaki Yuasa’s acclaimed Tatami Galaxy, yet it is a title that lives up to its unrivaled legacy known for poetic storytelling. It is artistically defined by its cultural sensibility, sophisticated writing, and verbose panache, capturing the frenetic repetitions of life in ways that allow one to truly feel its grand revelations. Time Machine Blues reroutes its original concept through Shingo Natsume’s more-than-capable directing, meshing in Yuasa’s former narrative knack with his own individual flair in presentation. Natsume’s abstract ideas come in the form of a cutback on mentally taxing developments, restructuring it with a dose of narrative patience and preplanned mathematics in its implementation of time-travel. Rather than simply engineering itself within alternate timelines for the sake of shock value, it takes a more figurative approach by complexifying one universal actuality.
The rewatch value allows one to view the episodes in reverse, where each individual detail becomes more evident than it once was. At its core, it layers nuance through professed lighthearted comedy, immersive dynamics, and tinges of relevant, meaningful poetry that still hold true to this day. The story grows to respect the eventful happenings of time, an unfeigned deference for all everyday conveniences and inconveniences we preoccupy ourselves in. Watashi, the protagonist, attempts to repair the fragilities of his own doings along with the rest of his different “personalities”, coming to realize the invaluable gravity of why everything flows in the way it is.
Science SARU controls the camera through multiple departments, which can be considered a gripping balance between our youthful imaginations and life’s monotonous echoes. The time-travel idea is a reflection of one’s inherent relationship with change, and how inevitably sought-after it has become, regardless of what tense it’s in. Questionability, as a concept, has always stayed a prevalent characteristic in maturing, an uncertainty when it comes to the “what-if’s” and different possibilities standing before us.
Aside from ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION’s musical talent in crafting the opening, let alone the phenomenal blues score, Natsume’s ability to simultaneously carry on Yuasa’s narrative whilst adapting to different circumstances, or Science SARU’s remarkable storyboarding, the tale still manages to discover ways which manipulate us into reflecting and contemplating, as if homaging its former methods. In addition, the tale is still built on the premise of experimental artistry, although with a blend of supplemental plot clarity in exchange for its past episodicism.
Time Machine Blues underlyingly conveys a message reminiscent of its counterpart, except now, through an entirely distinct narrative perspective which offers the same philosophical authenticity. I say this not only within its refreshing world of unparalleled poetry, amusing wordage, or visual symbolisms, but also from a production and overall viewing experience standpoint.
Episode 5 and 6 looks back on its past desperations in making things consistent, flawlessly transitioning into pure nostalgia. The realizations made can be described as the story’s profound acceptance with the constraints and uncertainties of existence. The characters find solace in the present moment, appreciating the general dichotomy able to be found in time; potentially allowing viewers to recognize why it exists. Aside from its genius in illustrating the wonders and apathies of life, Time Machine Blues imparts an atmosphere of recreation and profundity through a spin-off biography of the protagonist. The tale encourages one to acknowledge the story-like nature in all things, conveying an artistic parallel between the unpredictability of time and change. We venture through its causalities, whereas the story instills its unfathomable value that'll last a lifetime.
Purpose in of itself is universal, an intrinsic conceptualization bound to every storyline.