Naoki Urasawa is fascinated with the darkness of childhood imagination.

Admittedly, I've only watched two anime based on his work so far- Madhouse's masterclass adaptation of Monster and now this- so I can't say how common a thread it is in his other stories. But even just from those two, his fixation on twisting childhood into something sinister and unsettling is undeniable. Nursery rhymes and half-remembered country folk songs repurposed as grim omens of doom, picture books foreshadowing real world nightmares, the innocence of his child characters and childlike imagery juxtaposed against a creeping darkness that seems born from the pits of hell itself... the mind of a kid is frequently the most terrifying place to be in Urasawa's work. Whether there's any greater meaning to it or if it's just something he things is cool, I don't know. But it certainly makes him the ideal artist for a story like Pluto. Who else but a guy like him could take one of Japan's most iconic mascots of childhood fun and use his world as the basis of a serious minded political/philosophical thriller that seeks to explore the nature of hatred itself?

Now, as someone who only knows Astro Boy by reputation and has never so much as seen a single episode of any show bearing his name, I can't comment on this story's relation to its source material. Luckily, I don't need to; Pluto is fully stand-alone and you don't need to know a scrap of Astro Boy lore to understand or appreciate it. Although I imagine it would make some of the goofier robot designs a little less immersion-breaking. I dunno, there's something inherently funny about seeing Urasawa's grounded, realistic style of character and world design, his thickly textured and non-exaggerated human faces with realistic proportions and naturalistic wear and tear, next to some of these robots looking like they were pulled straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon. It makes me wonder how certain American cartoons would look if given this treatment. Imagine if someone, like, re-imagined The Powerpuff Girls this way, and you had to see these realistic child versions of Blossom et al next to Mojo Jojo or whatever. Oh well, it would probably be better than that CW show they cancelled, at least.

But I'm getting off track. Pluto is a story about a futuristic sci-fi world where robotics have gotten advanced enough for robots and humans to life side-by-side as part of the same civilization. Every year, it seems, robots and humans are growing closer together, to the point where people are genuinely starting to wonder if there's still any meaningful difference between them. But the seeming peace is shattered by a mysterious attacker, an unknown, unseen killer targeting the seven strongest robots in the world and destroying them one by one. One of these robots, a Europol detective named Gesicht with a robot wife of his own, decides to dedicate himself to tracking this killer down. But as his journey takes him all over the world, meeting countless different robots and humans all with their own bit of commentary to offer on the relationship between man and machine, we slowly peel back the sins this world is built on, uncovering a darkness much greater than a single mysterious killer... and a hatred that may change the nature of robotkind as we know it.

It's a heady, thought-provoking affair, and despite my jokes earlier in the review, it's shockingly good at justifying its bizarre premise. The world feels real and lived-in, from its complex alt-history to its eerily familiar present. It feels like a world that would arise from robots growing increasingly close to humans, and it makes all its musings on the distinction between them genuinely compelling. What would anti-robot bigotry look like in such an accepting time? What things would come naturally to humans that might be impossible for robots, and vice-versa? How would the presence of highly advanced AI effect the political history of warfare and diplomacy? And, most unnervingly, what new atrocities could result from a world this advanced? It's a show that's deeply interested in what ultimately makes us human, and what it would take for an inhuman machine to be considered human as well. But it's also interested in what is already inhuman about us, and if there's anything we, in turn, can learn about our own humanity from a "species" still living just outside it. And while there's plenty of action throughout its run, it's not afraid to take its time on conversations and machinations to really let those ideas settle.

Of course, it's been many years since the manga this was based on was published, and those kinds of "Can a robot learn to feel?" questions have been pretty beaten to death in other media that's come out since then. These days, a story can come off as pretty corny trying to tackle such topis. And truth be told, Pluto can't help but make you roll your eyes with its attempt to explore these ideas a lot of the time. Some of that's due to the oversaturation I just mentioned, but some of that's down to Pluto itself being a very corny show, in ways I don't think it's really aware of. It tends to deliver its story in the most on-the-nose, telegraphed way imaginable.This cranky old musician doesn't think robots can understand art but watch as he learns how to feel again! This robot just wants to paint pictures of flowers but his inner nature as a brutal rage machine is dragging him down! People make promises to their family to see them again right before they're brutally killed! You can see every emotional beat coming miles away but it still expects you to be surprised when it finally arrives there. And considering that the tension of uncertainty is one of the most important parts of any good thriller, it kinda makes it hard to get invested at points.

Sadly, that isn't the only problem holding Pluto back from greatness. Aside from the corny delivery, a lot of plot points feel pretty contrived and stupid, the hand of the author shoving the pieces across the game board with little regard to making sure it feels natural. I also don't think structure this show as eight hour-long Netflix specials was good for the pacing; it means every episode meanders over countless subplots that don't always fit together smoothly and melt into a sludge of Things Happening with little connective tissue to justify putting them together. You can practically see the points where there would be episode breaks if they were a normal 24-minute length, but then they just keep going into what feels like an entirely new episode with no breathing room. So it ends up feeling like a 24 episode show Frankensteined together into a series of bloated triple-length episode booster packs, rather than a story carefully curated to take advantage of its extended episode runtime.

And yet, for all its faults, I found myself getting drawn back in over and over again. Say what you will about Urasawa, the man knows how to keep your eyes glued to the screen. And for all the shows and movies I've seen exploring what it takes for a robot to be human, Pluto's take is still unique and fascinating enough to be worth the watch. It's nowhere near the simple, offensive allegories of, say, Detroit Become Human, nor is it so intellectual that it robs the story of its humanity. It's a genuine attempt to contend with humanity in its entirety, light and darkness alike, and what we may need to sacrifice- or what we might gain- by bringing artificial intelligence over the threshold to join us. It also helps that it looks fantastic; aside from a few moments that just plain look ugly (Atom's first fight with the mysterious killer made my eyes hurt, I swear), the thick lines and fluid animation bring this world to life in stunning fashion. Even outside the impressive action scenes, Pluto is a show worth looking at. Sometimes, that sweet Netflix money hits just right.

Is Pluto a great anime? I'd argue no; it's got too many basic issues holding it back. In my opinion, Monster is a superior Urasawa offering, and I didn't even particularly love that show either. But masterpiece or no, Pluto is a work of remarkable ambition, and it demands your attention regardless of its faults. It's a thoughtful, potent, sometimes frustrating, often eye-rolling, but always compelling work of sci-fi reimagining, proof that even something as simple as a cartoon robot with rockets on its feet can be fertile ground for so much more.