The “Space Battleship Yamato” TV series didn’t gain mainstream success in Japan until it was reedited into Space Battleship Yamato: The Movie – which was indeed a movie, as the title self-indicates. And what a success it was!, out grossing the mighty Star Wars…in Japan at least (this is a fact I shall keep on repeating as long as it’s pertinent). And with this sort of success, more Yamato could be made – directly for the screen! It took but a year for Farewell Space Battleship Yamato (AKA Farewell Space Battleship Yamato: Warriors of Love, double-AKA Farewell to Space Battleship Yamato: In the Name of Love, triple-AKA Arrivederci Yamato, and that's not even all of 'em) to reach theaters.
(Also, most English speakers call the series Star Blazers. That could increase some confusion.)
The plot of the former film (and show) was, at times, a surprisingly mature space opera about using a relic from Japan’s past (the WWII-era Yamato) to save humanity from extinction. It was a potent metaphor. It was also full of silly, blue humanoid aliens to render said metaphor over-obvious [cough!] Avatar [cough!].
I could enjoy the story for what it was, and thus overlook the dated appearance of the animation. Since it went by previously without comment, I shall sum up The Movie’s visuals now: animation at a frame rate of 3-per-second, reuse of cells, explosions that look like the watercolors I vomited out in elementary school. But it was a TV show from the early 70s, and so we cannot fault it for that. But a theatrical sequel to a highly successful original has the chance to upgrade the visuals, and retain the storytelling complexity of the first. Also, the narrative awkwardness of a reedited television program should no longer exist; this story shall be unabridged. Let’s see how they did, shall we…
Well, the animation is technically superior, I can tell that right away! Budget – employed!
As for the story…The fundamental plot hook isn’t as exciting, since the historical metaphor is somewhat lessened. So is the sense of hopelessness in the face of the universe. But the ending packs a mighty wallop, which raises Farewell to Space Battleship Yamato right up there with the first. And consider that title – Where might this thing be going?
It is now the year 2201 A.D., and Sci-Fi Earth is prospering. But a new threat to peace in the universe looms predictably, with a persistent, never-ending organ soundtrack, Universal horror style. It is the warlike White Comet Empire, humanoid aliens (green this time, rather than blue) who travel the galaxy enslaving (read: murdering) all civilizations they encounter. Their empire’s capital, Gatlantis, is disguised as a white comet, hence the name. Yeah, this is a vast sudden mass of space opera wackiness, which I still cannot quite connect with the series’ more serious moments.
Earth, though, will have no thought given to the White Comet of Gatlantis, so things aren’t quite as dire right off the bat. In the scant year since before, the planet has gone from Mad Max to “The Jetsons,” and Earth’s defense fleet has rendered the heroic battleship Yamato obsolete, especially with the launch of the flagship Andromeda.
But our focus here is decidedly on the characters, specifically former hero-of-the-day Captain Susumu Kodai, who is now mere days away from marrying love interest Yuki Mori. Their romantic, capitalist nirvana is portrayed in such an Edenic manner, it’s only my own assumption that much anime follows this tone that prevented me from recognizing how all this was a setup for tragedy.
On the one-year anniversary of Yamato’s return from her Earth-saving journey, the entire crew reunites at the memorial to their deceased captain, Okita. Here we reconnect with old friends, which is how Japanese audiences surely saw this franchise’s cast: Daisuke Shima, Sabera, Dr. Sado, and the rest. And with Yamato to be put out of commission and made a war memorial, this is likely the last time they’ll ever be a group.
Around now Earth Defense HQ receives transmissions with vague warnings of the dread Gatlantean threat. They completely ignore them. Only Kodai sees any reason to fear, so he goes over his superiors and organizes, in essence, a Yamato mutiny! The entire crew is on board with this, so to speak, loyalty to their ship (and all-encompassing symbol of Japan) ranking higher than allegiance to military shortsightedness. And so, half an hour in (it’s a long animated movie), the Yamato and all hands take their spurious leave of Earth, launching into space with a full orchestral soundtrack singing their praises.
Following one short, serene passage past Mars and Jupiter (director Noboru Ishiguro once again has no interest in Uranus), Kodai has his worst suspicions confirmed. Earth’s defense forces out at Pluto have been utterly decimated by the Gatlantean hordes. In exploring the wreckage, Kodia’s foot soldiers (that is, Kodai and one guy named Saito) come upon but one survivor: Commander Hijikata, who laments having not been able to go down with his ship. (This is a running thread.) Upon returning to Yamato’s bridge, and reporting the disaster back to Earth, Yamato is officially conscripted back into official service (so much mutiny plot), and Hijikata, as the ranking officer, is promoted over Kodai as Yamato’s commander.
Yamato then receives a transmission, which comes from our traditional per-entry nymph-like, androgynous female spirit. She, Teresa, takes on a visual appearance much like the Virgin Guadalupe, as she proposes a solution to the killer comet. Coordinates set, Yamato warps to her location –
– and into a Gatlantean ambush! Yamato thrashes through the space currents of the Sargasso space graveyard, as Zontar the space emperor of the White Comet Empire schemes in his throne room and – Look, I’m not exaggerating or saying anything weird. That’s actually the plot!
And so begins something I’m assured many Yamato fans look forward to the most: a space battle. These movies are rife with the things! I’m sad to say they don’t impress me none. Amongst other things, these battles are loooooong. Basically, I suspect the animators produced like an hour and a half of context-free missiles firing and spaceships exploding, then apportioned it out throughout the flick. Unearned pyrotechnics are not very exciting, and animation as a medium rather reduces the lizard-like awe you could otherwise feel from such Michael Bay uselessness.
Lessening the tension further, we also know Yamato must always win…even when the technologically superior Earth ships already fell to the same menace. It made sense when military genius Okita was in charge, but Hijikata is an unknown quantity with a significant major recent loss under his belt. Whatever…Yamato wins.
Then it’s down to the gravity-fortress planet Telezart (I at least understand the notion of a “planet”), where Teresa dwells. But the planet is defended, so…battle sequence! In what they call “variety,” this involves more dogfighting and less artillery. And because the anime giants working on the picture (with names which mean nothing to me, such as Ichitoku Tanahashi, Mr. Kogawa and Mr. Katsumata) wanted to spend some time animating tanks, well, it’s ground battle time. Each of these segments affords another 5 minutes or so taken from the runtime, along with the introduction (and subsequent death) of yet another Gatlantean head commander, each one with a “Z” name, as is the way in space opera.
It’s time for generic mysticism, anime style, as Kodai and his bestest buds behold Teresa floating in the center of an ice cave in the planet’s core, in all her nudery. She tells of her prayer (that is, message) to summon Kodai, he who most embodies the spirit of love…or whatever. It all sorta has the sense of New Agey profundity, while really being a calculated and shallow combination of the more aesthetically pleasing elements of world religions – just like actual New Age thought. Oh, and Teresa is anti-matter, so there’s that. But we do at least learn something very important about defeating the White Comet Empire – they cannot be defeated. Oh…kay then…
Zontar the almighty has a scheme to stop the marauding Yamato, which spits in the very laws of physics and sequel continuity. And made-up words. Warlord Dresler of Gamilas (nee Desler circa The Movie) shall seek his revenge against – Wait up! I thought D(r)esler died last time! I mean, he was on the planet Gamilas when it imploded, killing his whole race! So why…No matter. Revenge is a good, exciting storyline, and good drama somehow overrides a surfeit of logic.
So Dresler takes the Gatlantean flagship out to meet Yamato and – space battle! Yeah, you knew that one. The same format applies here as in all the battles: At first Yamato seems hopelessly outclassed, is bombed far beyond what it ought to be capable of withstanding (the thing dates from 1941, after all, not 2201), then Kodai “miraculously” happens upon a miracle solution, and crisis is averted…Okay, fine, it’s the same framework as in nearly every “Star Trek” episode I’ve seen…and just about every other space story of this sort…And regular war movies…And – Okay, it’s not a problem.
In the first portion of the battle, with Yamato losing, Dresler happens upon a hilarious scheme. He plans to destroy them with – the Dresler Cannon. The man named a Gatlantean weapon after himself, a non-Gatlantean! (It’s like something Zapp Brannigan would do.) But then Yamato warps – didn’t see that one, did ya? – and Dresler’s Dresler Cannon de-Dreslercizes his own forces! It’s remarkably funny, actually, but maybe it oughtn’t to be.
The Yamato rams Dresler’s battleship, and Kodai leads a team of space marines on ship-to-ship assault. Kodai and Dresler have a dramatic showdown, Dresler commenting “what a worthy foe you’ve become.” Ah, this is the moment that (somewhat) justifies Dresler’s improbable survival ‘til now. Despite Dresler’s taunting, Kodai holds his ground; Dresler drops down dying, already mortally wounded. In his dying moments, Dresler comments on how his life is satisfied, that he has more in common with the humans than the detestable Gatlanteans. Then Dresler’s aide shoots Yuki, who is also there; Dresler kills his own aid, although he thought he’d already done that, in a proper Darth Vader moment. So…Dresler gets a dramatic death scene, and Yuki is well on the way to hers, stretched out to a length Trinity would call unlikely.
There’s but a mere hour of runtime left, which is hardly enough to fit in all the battle footage remaining. Thus the White Comet Empire (WCE) itself stages an assault upon Earth, engaging all the non-Yamato battleships in our employ. First up, behold missiles, something called “space sonar,” and loads of mystical anime light. All Earth’s ships employ their ultimate Wave Motion Guns – no effect. Basically, the WCE is stronger than our WMGs, so we’re SOL.
But…“We still have Yamato!” Earth’s citizenry endlessly chant, in animation more limited than most PowerPoint presentations. Remember, Yamato stands for Japan, Earth’s only hope in the year 2201 A.D. And along it comes, as Kodai parses out Desler’s final words: The comet’s weakness is in its spiral. With enough energy for a single WMG shot, the universe’s collective fingers crossed, Yamato fires and – OMG, the WMG worked! The neutrino clouds of Gatlantis (yeah) disperse, only to reveal –
– the second stage of the boss fight. In case that hazy anime screenshot is unclear, we have a city the size of Ultra Manhattan, all upon a metal base that has been disguised as a comet half, just in case. Oh, and it has another impenetrable shield. Oh, and Yamato’s energy is depleting rapidly.
Gatlantis’ attacks are swift and decisive. In one fell swoop, we see the deaths of Hijikata, Dr. Sado, and roughly 50% of Yamato’s men. Yeah, this is one of those movies, the sort where everybody dies. And it’s this particular brave move that makes the final leg of Farewell to Space Battleship Yamato so moving, even while 70% of it remains the sort of space battle footage I have no use for.
What little power Yamato has remaining is used to enter the battle station’s lone, miniscule weakness – the first film influenced Star Wars, so it’s only right Star Wars should influence this. The comet’s interior power core resembles the Death Star II more than anything, so I guess Yamato went right back to influence future Star Wars entries. So in yet another action sequence (like the 15th), the core powering Gatlansis’ shield is destroyed. In the process, the cast is culled just a little bit more…let’s say Saito and Sabera die (though I think I’m getting that second name wrong).
So the baddies’ shield is down, but Yamato is completely without weaponry – oh, and Gatlantis has transformed yet again, making this one of the longest multi-stage final bosses I’ve ever se- You mean this isn’t a video game? Oh, right then.
Kodai, at a loss for the first time since his character arc in the original, seeks advice from an Okita memorial that is now on the bridge. Either Kodai’s havin’ some world-class hallucinations, or the movie expects us to swallow some truly non sequitur supernatural mumbo jumbo, for soon enough the memorial gains sentience. As our ersatz Obi-Wan, Okita cannot offer up any concrete advice (that can never be, oh no, not in film). Rather, Kodai is advised to “Use the Force.”…Hold up! I mean, “Put your faith in Yamato.” Oh, well, okay then. Okita’s vague speech continues, finally telling Kodai of his true secret weapon: Life. Sure, Okita means well, but he couldn’t get more generalized if he said Koda had “A Thing.”
But Kodai knows what must be done – A noble sacrifice. Echoing that noblest of all Japanese warriors, the kamikaze pilot, Kodai shall destroy Gatlantis with Yamato itself (with Teresa’s anti-matter powers). No more battle sequences for us, thank Astro-Boy, as the efficacy of this tactic is beyond question. Pleading his case most effectively, Kodai convinces Shima and the 20 or so other crew members still alive to abandon ship. Kodai alone, as captain, shall die with his vessel.
Kodai silently pilots Yamato, the dead Yuki propped up in the copilot’s seat. As his final moments of life play by, Kodai sees golden spirits of his departed mates before him on the bridge, the whole of Yamato’s essence with him. And Yuki is now alive, I guess, or whatever, allowing Kodai to express his undying love for her – this suicide mission shall be their wedding.
I connected the original back to Godzilla, as both are metaphorical salves to assuage Japan in light of her WWII defeat. Either my reference pool is shallow, or Farewell Battleship Yamato also has clear parallels to Godzilla – specifically the ending. A dirge-like chorus sings as Kodai enacts his sacrifice, ridding mankind of an unassailable villain at the cost of his own life and his own technology. Thus does Yamato vanish into the blackness of space, only to, at long last, erupt in an astounding light. Titles commemorate this, Yamato’s final voyage.
“Farewell to those who have come to love Yamato. As long as you live, Yamato will also live on. Whenever you think of Yamato, always remember that true happiness results from giving happiness to others.”
This ending, and even the promise of it inherent in the title, had Japanese audiences weeping in the aisles. The furor surrounding this, clearly the last Yamato ever, lent Farewell to Space Battleship Yamato a cultural status usually only enjoyed by…well, Star Wars. The summer of 1978 was declared “The Summer of Yamato,” and the sequel even managed to outperform its original, itself previously the reigning box office champ of Japan. Surely this was a remarkable phenomenon, made all the more notable because it was the end of the saga. Producer Yoshinobu Nishizaki had guaranteed the franchise’s end, and he had let it go out with dignity and warmth.
There’s only one problem with that. It sucks for future sequels. But if anyone can figure out how to follow up as solid an ending as this, it’s Japanese science fiction writers!
Related posts:
• No. 1 Space Battleship Yamato: The Movie (1977)
• No. 3 Space Battleship Yamato: The New Voyage (1979)
• No. 4 Be Forever Yamato (1980)
• No. 5 Final Yamato (1983)
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