Ginga is a shooting star without the majesty clothed by the glow of its epithet, an eventual meteorite causing a wreckage of my stargazing.
As a 1986 show (which is relatively old in my book), I thought I would add in more leniency when reflecting upon the experience of sitting through a crudely directed 21-episode anime of hundreds of wild talking dogs killing each other to finally kill a couple of bears that number less than the episode count, but I confirmed that the same studio released Dragon Ball in the same year, and Takahata's adaptation of Anne of Green Gables seven years prior. That is to say, all intent to excuse the poorly-made decisions laden in the show was thrown out of the window when its peers and superiors have far exceeded the canine mania in all accounts. Age is not a barrier to excellence after all, just like how Gin's status as a young pup defied all odds and all his elders nonetheless.
Disillusionment reigned when the legendary (I dub it so) opening and piercingly nostalgic ending song that sandwiched a powerful set of beginning episodes were betrayed by its contents as they slowly slob into an unpalatable mess. Ginga brought in fate and destiny in a man's world, opened up an avenue for creativity in collaborative action between a human and his bear dog against adversaries, brewed an adorable protagonist with incredible rescue, problem-solving, battle, and leadership intellect--as close to perfection as he should to provide due to his tiger-striped destiny (genetics), and situated enough crumbs on the ground for the viewer to be seduced to its consumption. There was plenty for me to be kept locked into immersion between my immense dislike of Grampa, the development of Gin and Daisuke's relationship, the advent of John as an impetus for Gin's desire to be something more, the fervor scented with testosterone sweat so thick in that village air, the moral weight of the hunt, and the looming threat of Akakabuto who indeed felt like a mountainous obstacle. I was so ready to put myself in stereotypical gender norms and become a youthful fellow very masculine and thirsty for honor, pride driving my wheels in a dog eat dog planet (I was reading Little Women on the side as well. Unintentionally squeezed by both the ascribed "feminine" and "masculine" auras simultaneously was entertainment to another level LOL). I was raring to go and floor it, but man did my energy grow lax.
Shoddy direction was the main culprit. Starting from the dog recruitment arc around the 9th episode, the cracks began to show.
You can't expect diplomacy from dogs. Even fiction couldn't leash their instincts to resist hostility, so I've no qualms about the way every stop boils down to a clash one way or another. I can't, however, be captured by the conflict when the conflict is aggravatingly repetitive and often just for the sake of it: Ben's platoon seeks peaceful negotiations but the recruitees oppose due to a very dumb misunderstanding of the situation and thinking the Ou dogs colonizers. And sometimes even, there is melodrama that plays out (that gets easily moved on from) which just feels so out-of-place and awkwardly executed, it's like I'm watching an evening soap opera flick, but with dogs! I do not mind how when Benizakura died the blood on the lake formed a perfect sakura flower to resemble the old doggo though. Ginga is so unserious sometimes I can't bear to hate on this male poetics.
Speaking of death, a notable one, truly much more notable than Riki and Akatora's deaths, is Terry's. Yes, Terry, that 5th platoon commander who only appeared for one or two episodes and whose demise became a huge enough deal for his name to be echoed in the chambers of a golden chapel resounding in the lamentations of a holy choir whose enemies even chimed in to howl for his passing like the memorable, irreplaceable character that he is. In fact, neither Akatora nor Riki, the damn boss, even had that treatment. Truly, Terry was the greatest loss they ever had.
How quickly the developments were on those episodes though, as is everything else past episode 8. It's like the team just wanted to get it done and over with, never mind processing the recurrent bloodfest between wild dogs. One really can't tell a prophecy on their behavior for they oscillate between discipline and rabidness, between full-fledged warmongering and reconciled peacemaking. One would think they can be a bit more restrained due to the strong value and virtue system they all (most) apparently share as a species, and one would think they would be more mindless of the consequences as animals do. Instilling complex human emotions to essentially anthropomorphize the dogs without properly solidifying the ratio of dogness and humanness is wonky writing that ruins the brunt of every canine's substance.
Right, where's the balance here? It really took a huge 180 upon scrapping every human character there ever was and focusing mainly on the dogs, deciding upon this route without much consideration of how much of it as a fictional story should be taken as such. For one, it has dogs with special techniques passed on just through genes without any instruction, spinning around like a drill with their fangs on, moving faster than the speed of light, and becoming literal flying saucers that can snap Goliath's head off. It's funny just thinking about it in and of itself and I love it, but it doesn't really fit well with its own realism. Cohesiveness took its leave. Even for a fictional story it's important to leash one's freedom when in the first place they already did so themselves by setting constraints to the world.
As an additional sentiment, the dogs talk too much. They should have omitted an appropriate chunk of talking dialogues and replace it with just barks, growls, whimpers, and other such emotive expressions. Show-and-tell, not tell-and-tell bro. How do dogs sound like when they cry, when they're cornered and afraid? How do they act in a wide array of emotions? They should have used doggo body language at their disposal to convey what the characters are feeling because isn't what they're going for at that point, a dog-only show? A lot of us came in for something dog-y too, for Gin as the poster boy, a dog.
My feelings and thoughts just can't wrap up the mess and make it all make sense. There are too many lapses in production and execution. The action is cool for its fantastical impossibilities, but it wasn't enough to carry me through with a loving eye on the anime. How did Ben come alive after falling down with Sniper? How did Hyena save him, if he did at all? Why hasn't he returned with Ben, someone who should have been so much more in dire straits? Why did the Ou dogs feel like they actually don't care much about their comrades at all, and are shown to be much closer to the new recruits, when they were so tight-knit prior to the merge? Funny how only the heart of the cast is acknowledged, while the supporting subordinates weren't even given much care. Like, for instance, when Smith gets injured, Gin and co lose all their wits. When some other nameless dog gets killed--with utter brutality at times--no one really bats an eye and grieves for them. And really, no dog gets injured enough for treatment unlike Smith, Ben, and other Named because every Nameless dog gets KO'd. Not advocating for more screentime dedicated for each fallen ally, but I do think it should have been basic to allow their deaths to have more noticeable emotional effects.
I guess that's enough for my criticisms. Heading on with the story's intended takeways, I believe the central theme revolves around overcoming fear through courage. Fear is an innate emotion in all living things, one of the most primitive at that. As Grampa once said, the lack thereof is actually not a profitable circumstance nor does it magically remove all of life's obstacles. He recounts a particular bear dog who had no fear at all and eventually ran straight through to his death because of not having any receptors for danger. And so, being numb and blunted in general could very well circle around someone to take away their lives.
No, what's important is gathering courage to work through one's fears. With confidence employed alongside it, great things are surely ahead. Gin's collected temperance allows him to adapt to every situation through assessment of the situation and self-analysis that allows him to gauge the extent of his strengths (majority of the time, at least). His courage earned him the respect of his seniors through defiance of discrimination, enough to be handed the baton of leadership not even more than a year through his birth. This very courage should be possessed by everyone, especially the males in this case. The fact that humans weren't able to gather themselves unlike the compact solidarity of the dogs around Japan that united under one cause that really doesn't affect them at all, is because the men were sitting on excuses and passivity instead such that they didn't give it their all to stop the "tyranny" of Akakabuto who threatened their fellowmen. Unlike the dogs who relished on the honor of repaying gratitude and meting justice upon a villain, the humans didn't concern themselves enough with the situation, only a handful did. It really does tell about our faltering will as opposed to the unbending resolve of the dogs in the show.
We have a lot to learn from our best friends. Let us work on our weaknesses rather than simply twiddling our thumbs and wishing upon a shooting star.
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