Editorials
[Anime Horrors] Exploring the Horror of Survival and War in “Attack on Titan”
Having been six years since the anime’s debut, Attack On Titan just recently concluded its third season. Full of brilliant action sequences and jaw dropping reveals, season three not only elevates the show’s phenomenal journey, but has cemented Attack On Titan as one of the most compelling works of emotional media.
Now that I’ve had some time to digest all that was season three, I wanted to take this month’s Anime Horrors to talk about what has made Attack On Titan such a terrific anime. Specifically, I want to explore what Attack On Titan establishes from the very beginning, and how it continues to carry such significant and powerful themes throughout its narrative. Just as a friendly heads up: This article will spoil several moments throughout the show, including season three.
From the beginning, Attack On Titan introduces viewers to desperation and despair. Episode one does a solid job of introducing us to the anime’s world. Right away, viewers become aware of the existence of the walls, how humanity has ceased to exist outside of them, and the Titans. As interesting as all these plot elements are, they also come shrouded in mystery. We learn that what remains of humanity lives inside three gigantic walls, each separated into various locations and classes. From there, the episode uses effective pacing to convey the survival aspect that people of this world must endure. There is an excellent moment where we see the Scout Regiment return from a mission outside the walls, wounded and defeated. One soldier cries out about his lost comrades and the agony that comes in fighting.
Shortly after that moment we are introduced to the Colossal Titan, a gigantic being who destroys part of the outer wall. It is at this point where we begin to see the Titans in brutal action; it is chilling to look upon their surreal humanoid forms, as well as how remorseless they are in their violence. Given their lack of conscience, the Titans move from victim to victim, tearing and biting into them.
Episode one also establishes the gap in power between the Titans and the humans. In an action-oriented show, it’s common to have an equal power of good to combat an evil force; while the humans here have their Omni-directional mobility gear, allowing them to zip through the air, they still lack a remarkable amount of physical strength compared to that of the Titans.
We can’t help but feel main protagonist Eren’s pain as he watches his mother being eaten by a Titan. Even a Scout who begins to approach that same Titan, stands frozen as he looks upon it in horror. It is by episode one’s conclusion that we have the setup for the entire anime; Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and others, become Scouts in order to defeat the Titans. From that episode forward, AoT has since brought viewers along for a whirlwind of action and mystery.
However, while the action and numerous twists are intriguing, they aren’t the only big selling points. What also makes AoT so engaging is the element of survival that exists within its story. This element is thanks to the show’s use of emotion, as well as its world building.
Even as Eren and friends continue to grow stronger, each encounter with the Titans is a struggle. Settings throughout AoT involve locations with multiple directions to latch onto and swing from with ODM gear (but may require navigating narrow pathways or have numerous blindspots); there are also big expansive areas with plenty of room to run (but with minimal to no options to latch onto). Environmentally, AoT has always done a good job of presenting spaces where all is not certain; how does one handle a Titan attack in a big field where Titans are charging from both sides, and all the characters have are their horses?
One of the best uses of environment comes when, in season three, part of the Scouts face off against the Beast Titan. Given the latter’s incredible throwing skills, he constantly bombards the Scouts with shrapnel from gigantic boulders; numerous houses and bodies are torn apart as his projectiles fly through the air. This interaction has the Scouts’ backs against the wall (almost literally, as they stand just outside one of the walls). This interaction between the two forces creates a great deal of tension in watching.
The other excellent component to AoT is that of its emotional storytelling, done through world building and its characters. Through various small moments, we become aware of the political corruption that has taken place and impacted the people living within the walls. When it comes to moments of people hungry for food or mourning the loss of loved ones, the show exudes an air of misery. This misery is further enhanced when it comes to that of the personal drama and pain felt by our main cast.
Over the course of three seasons we’ve come to witness Eren and friends combat various challenges. We hold our breath and hope for the best as they dive into another battle. We watch as friends suffer and allies die, the group coming together to share their sorrows.
Years from now, when people look back and talk about the “greatest episodes in anime,” I think season three’s “Hero” will be one of them. When Armin finally discovers a way to weaken the Colossal Titan, not only does he implement the strategy, he sacrifices his life for the sake of the team. After latching onto the Titan’s teeth, we watch as the Colossal Titan begins to release heat and steam from its body; at this point, Armin is aware that the more heat the Titan lets off, the more its body mass will decrease. As the Titan continues to unleash more pressure, Armin holds on for dear life, his clothes being ripped off, his body lighting on fire. After his body finally gives in, the Colossal Titan has been weakened to the point that Eren can swoop in for the finishing blow.
This sequence is not only one of the most thrilling moments in all of AoT, but sincerely one of the most emotional moments in contemporary media. The scene works so well thanks in part to the time we’ve gotten to spend with these characters; while we’ve been through so many hardships with them, we’ve also been able to witness those moments where they find some light. Perhaps it’s a victory of some sort, or a peaceful evening where they can pal around, but AoT does a good job connecting the viewer to the emotions of its characters. We understand Eren’s anger, and we can sympathize with Armin’s desire to see more of the world. We feel the pain in each push back, and we take a big breath of fresh air when the team gains an inch forward. These emotional character elements, along with the show’s world building, are what help to establish AoT’s themes of survival.
Some time ago, I thought to myself, “I wonder how effective this show might actually be if it were set in modern times, or if they had more modernized weaponry.” Come to find out, the show actually *is* set in more (relatively) modern times. As perhaps the show’s greatest twist thus far, our main cast learns humanity has survived outside the walls and has continued to progress. This reveal comes to them when they discover the journals of Grisha Yeger, Eren’s father, that were hidden in his basement (a secret that has been teased since episode one).
Eren and the others finding out they are part of an ancient race known as the Subjects of Ymir, and that they’ve actually been imprisoned on an island by the Nation of Marley, which brings a whole new dynamic to the show. Even though there are still plenty of mysteries to uncover, the story has now grounded itself in a more realistic way; beyond being a fascinating plot point, the twist reveals to the viewer that the actions we’ve seen so far are all the result of human ignorance and hatred.
By the end of AoT’s third season, we learn more about Grisha’s past; before these flashbacks, it was already revealed (in a limited sense), that he was a person who came from beyond the walls. We see him as a young boy living in the nation of Marley with his family; we witness how Eldians (as Subjects of Ymir are commonly referred to), are treated like garbage. We see them having to wear armbands to identify themselves to the public and how the local police force treats them with brutality. The Marleys’ aggression towards the Eldians comes from a muddied history of conflict, the details having become manipulated and hidden from the public. The island that we’ve spent three seasons on is revealed to be a location where Eldians are sent into exile, tormented by the Titan population.
It is with this major discovery that AoT’s themes begin to expand in meaning; along with the nods towards political commentary that have been presented thus far, the show is beginning to show more representation into the horrors of war.
Season three ends on a brilliant scene where our cast of characters finally get to see the ocean. Ever since the first episode, it has been a dream of Armin’s to see the water. When everyone finally gets there, it is such a powerful moment of happiness and joy. This moment slowly dissipates, however, as Eren looks out over the sea; while everyone else is in awe and enjoying themselves, he realizes the fight is nowhere near done. Speaking to Mikasa and Armin, he says that when they were younger, they thought that beyond the sea was freedom; after all their struggle, however, he realizes that across the water are their enemies. Pointing out towards the horizon, he asks that if they are able to kill all their enemies, will he and his friends finally have freedom?
I think it’s by this point that the anime reaches a more intimate and relatable sense of existentialism. War is a horror that has taken the lives of millions of people and has scarred, both physically and mentally, those who have survived combat. By season three’s conclusion, Eren realizes that his entire existence has been that of surviving war. For Eren, the dread of the conflict to come lingers over him.
Attack On Titan has been nothing short of a wild ride. The numerous twists, the compelling drama, along with the thrilling action sequences, have all allowed for the show to leave a lasting impact in the mind of viewers. I truly believe that Attack On Titan represents some of the finest anime among contemporary titles. This is an anime with layers of intrigue that are not super apparent at first glance; in the beginning, it feels like an action-survival story, but later begins to weave in political drama. Overtime, the show has begun to further explore universal fears and existential struggles: Attack On Titan is a story about how people view the world and others, humanity’s existence as it relates to war, and who writes history.
If you’re itching to know what happens after the conclusion of season three, the Attack On Titan manga is well into the events that anime viewers will get to see come 2020 when the show returns.
Moving forward, Anime Horrors will appear as a bimonthly column. See you all in September and thank you for reading!
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
You must be logged in to post a comment.