Kino’s Journey (Kino no Tabi) is a masterful collection of short stories which ingeniously explore the thought-provoking, socio-political issues faced by independent countries with distinctive cultures. Whether the country is big or small, rich or poor, authoritarian or libertarian; nothing is off the table – allowing for the multitude of countries’ philosophical underpinnings to be construed to their fullest potential by the audience, whilst also having their true purposes left deliberately ambiguous by the creators, so to allow for the audience to interpret the moral messages in a meaningful way.

These stories are told through the eyes of the observant, young, androgynous female traveller, Kino – the protagonist – who appears to take a rather laissez-faire stance towards the struggles of the people in the majority of countries she embarks. Hence, Kino is a character almost entirely lacking any desire to change the world around her. Although this may normally be portrayed as negative, and can be a little bit frustrating, here, this only helps to heighten the audience’s appreciation of the show, as it allows us to self-insert and breathe in the magnificence of the beautiful world. Furthermore, this also serves to let the stories of these countries play out naturally; as Kino usually has little, if nil, influence over the story as a whole. However, when necessary, Kino’s quick-wit and impressive marksmanship allow her to take any necessary action against threats that seek to cut her journey short, be it for the best or worst. On the other hand, Hermes – Kino’s trusted motorrad (a motorbike) and sidekick – often aids to lighten the show’s sinister tone through his rather humorous misunderstanding of common human phrases, whilst also furthering our understanding of the different countries in his own, subtle, quirky way.

Kino and Hermes’ relationship is a tragic telling of selfish loneliness. Upon Kino’s meeting with Hermes, we are starkly informed of their means for unification; “I’ll give him balance, and he will give me speed.” We realise that the two cannot function without one another, which strikingly illustrates the profound sense of travel that the two crave, as Kino is willing to risk her life to journey with a single companion, who is simply glad to be ridden. Although Kino is happy, it is hard to feel that way for her, as her hidden isolation makes us question the critical choices she has made in her life.

What is arguably most interesting about the show is its sluggish pace, which contrasts with the ruthless sins juxtaposed on screen. Even though there is plenty of gunfire, the show manages to hold true to itself and avoid plunging through the gaping hole into pure action. There are a few episodes, which I believe are worse than the rest, that rely too heavily on action to push their messages, but are so few and far between, that they do not steal from the show’s overall enjoyment at all.

Due to the nature of the show, the unpleasantness of many countries and the various aspects of the human condition, with all of its flaws, is hyperbolised to such an extent that it may feel as if the show is enforcing some sort of biased message on the audience – even though this is not the case. This may be a concern for a few, but I thought that the borderline amusing, yet tragic exaggeration worked incredibly well, as it helped to bring the show’s obscure messages to the forefront.

It must be noted that what will become apparent early on to newcomers is the show’s fairly odd art style. The show is from 2003, which, subsequently, makes it a little bit outdated for today’s standards. The character designs are all very simplistic, the scenery is drab and there is a lack of fluidity in animation. However, this is still an incredibly charming and pleasant experience, which cannot be found elsewhere easily. The art style is consistent and never strays away from what has been established. Furthermore, the use of the interlaced video effect gives the show a coat of distinctiveness that I have yet to see used as effectively elsewhere. Despite this, it can be hard to convince people who only watch new, mainstream anime to watch an old show or one with a unique art style, as it is not the same as what they are used to. If you happen to be one of these people, please do not be turned off by this show’s individuality. You will definitely get used to it, and you will regret dropping it over something so petty.

Similarly, whilst we are on the topic of the show’s production quality, the sound design – although not particularly impressive – helps to maintain the show’s seriousness and maturity. The voice acting, especially for Kino and Hermes, is solid. None of the characters’ voices come off as unrealistic, which retains the show’s down to earth atmosphere. The background music is practically non-existent, yet this is not a negative. Throughout the whole show, the absence of music actually meant that there was not one situation in which it felt like music was missing. This, subsequently, meant that when the sparingly used music was utilised, it ended up having the clever effect of locking the audience’s attention towards certain key scenes, highlighting their importance.

To conclude, regardless of some of Kino’s Journey’s downsides, it has been made clear that this well-written and important show is deserving of your time and thought. The show does not shy away from dark themes – with the insincerity and ignorance of man constantly leading to abhorrent suffering being just one reoccurring theme. However, at the heart of all this agony is a definitive road of hope. Despite the dangers, we are encouraged to begin our own journey, to take to the sky and fly with the birds. As we peak into the livelihoods of those who miraculously live, we cannot help but feel enlightened in humanities’ duality.

“The world is not beautiful. Therefore it is.”