'Time of Eve' is a deeply moving film

18.04.2010 by Patrick W. Galbraith

Few films can claim to be as genuinely touching as "Time of Eve" (イヴの時間). It's an animated series about robots with emotions, a theme that has been done many times, and done well. "Chobits" and "Saber Marionette J" are humorous and romantic, "Ghost in the Shell" is a gritty and relentless questioning of the man/machine binary. The strength of "Time of Eve," however, is the ability to place these issues not in a fantasy or hard-boiled setting, but rather in the everyday. The movie, "First Season Complete Addition," was released March 6. This work is sci-fi at its best, both romantic and thoughtful, surreal and resonating with life as we know it.

The story takes place in the near future, where androids are common. They are taken for granted, sometimes abused and even discriminated against (recall "Second Renaissance" from "The Animatrix"). One very interesting example is the paid messages from the Ethical Committee, such as a robotic hand crushing a tomato. TV shows are constantly talking about "Dori-kei," or those who have become infatuated with androids (reminding this reviewer of doll users). There are legal limitations on use of androids and they are under constant surveillance; they wear a halo to identify them. They are also subject to Isaac Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics, which subjugate them to human will. The young male protagonist, Rikuo, discovers that his home android, Sammy, has been acting independently. He finds a strange message in her activity log: "Are you enjoying the Time of Eve?" He and his friend Masaki retrace her steps and end up at a hidden cafe called "The Time of Eve," run by as young lady named Nagi. The two boys find there is one rule here: Patrons cannot distinguish between humans and androids. Once they step inside, they see no one is wearing a halo. Slowly, Rikuo comes to realize that nowhere in the Laws of Robotics is it written that androids cannot have feelings, or that they cannot lie about having feelings "for the benefit" of humans.

The original series was produced by Studio Rikka and DIRECTIONS, Inc. and streamed online in six parts from August 2008 to September 2009. The quality is high, combining 3D backgrounds with 2D characters. The backgrounds are exquisite - for example, the dancing reflections of light on the street outside the metal door leading to The Time of Eve, the rabbit hole through which Rikuo falls - recalling the works of Shinkai Makoto. The characters remain warm and "human," despite the reality of what lies beneath their exteriors and the mechanical, technological environment around them. The designs are not particularly cute, and the characters do not appear very young, making this stand out in comparison to many anime today. (Akiko is an android acting like a teenage girl, over acting stereotypes of cuteness and drawing attention to them.)

The story, while differing at points from the original, is much the same (and won't be given away here in detail). It is minimalist: Rikuo and Masaki go to the cafe again and again and struggle with the reality that faces them in The Time of Eve. Simple day to day interaction and communication between humans and androids in the cafe is set against a larger government conspiracy outside the cafe. This appears to be tied up in the mysterious history of Nagi, which is revealed in fragmented storybook images during the film credits. The soulful score, combined with pastoral visions of robots and the young Nagi as shojo, brings to mind the works of Miyazaki Hayao. Though the movie itself is fantastic, the credits are nonetheless a highlight. It brings to mind Thomas LaMarre (drawing on Martin Heidegger), who discusses the shojo as "a new god" capable of negotiating a new relation to the technological condition. There is something dark about all this, as Nagi herself appears to be a robot, and moves from place to place experiencing the failed interactions between man and machine. Her own relationship to an aging and worn-out male human/machine (and the metaphysical twist at the very last moment of the film) further complicates this feeling.

Another great part about the movie is the constant playing with the Three Laws, often revealing loop holes to hilarious and tragic results. One scene is Rikuo and Masaki talking to an old broken down robot who comes to the cafe. He s all square, chunky, exposed metal, but nonetheless abides by the rules of the cafe and expects no one to ask about his being a robot. His body shakes, exposed wires spark, and he periodically shoots off clouds of steam. His outdated logic circuits are tested in conversation. For example, as a human gives his name in self-introduction, so must he. But all that comes out is a high-pitched squeal. He orders a drink, but the boys try to stop him, knowing he can't swallow. All the busted, jerky body movements and logical leaps are quite funny - until it is revealed that this robot was tossed away by his owners. He had his barcode scratched off, and memories erased, so that no one could trace him back to the household and charge them a disposal fee. Dying, the robot came to the cafe looking for someone to listen to his name, given to him by his child master. He ceases to function in the middle of the cafe, and Nagi and the boys bear witness.

Another such moment comes when it is revealed that Masaki hates robots because of his caretaker, a THX-gata (squat and roundish, sort of like R2-D2). Nicknamed Tex, this robot was his best friend, but his father, who works for the Ethical Committee, saw that the robot was capable of emotion and ordered it to never talk to Masaki again. Masaki resents the robot for not having a will and leaving him. The silent close ups of Tex' human-like eyes, and what looks like a tear-streamed face, tell a different, hearbreaking story. Masaki learns the truth when Tex disobeys orders to save The Time of Eve from a government inspection. Tex is able to speak to Masaki for a few moments, because his master is in danger (thus, according to the Three Laws, he can disobey the order to not speak). Tragically, once the danger is over, Tex once again can no longer speak. This is high drama, but dealt with a disarming humor. Masaki takes Tex' hand and they go to walk out the door together - and it is revealed that Tex can't climb up the stairs due to his shape. People in the theater where laughing and crying all at once.

It is truly painful to watch the interactions between androids and humans outside the cafe after seeing them inside the cafe. The viewer now knows, as Rikuo does, that they are completely aware of their own subjugation, and pretend to have no feelings or will to please their "masters." It is a cliche to say that robots appear more human than humans, but there are times watching this that one can't escape the thought. Rikuo comes off as a really obsessive boyfriend trying to control his love-object, Sammy. He is obsessed with her and wanted to know everything about her - where she goes, what she does, who she talks to. This isn't as simple as his ownership of her as property. Indeed, Rikuo mentions that a dori-kei might be "someone who cares for objects." The fact that Sammy appears more as his mother (Rikuo's birth mother does not appear) than girlfriend further complicates the situation. Perhaps he is afriad that if she has a will, she might change. Or leave him. These questions are not dealt with in the heavy-handed, philosophical way of Oshii Mamoru, which thankfully leaves it for viewers to contemplate. The play back of Sammy’s memories is another example. They are almost like photo snapshots. Moments of extreme beauty are mixed in with images of violence. All of this is shown at once, and none of it is delved into deeply. Likewise, Sammy puts up her hair the way her master, Rikuo's mother, showed her, but this relationship (the doll? the daughter?) is not fully explained. In the end, the "Time of Eve" is something that leaves the viewer thinking. You will enjoy The Time of Eve, a place where all manner of binaries break down.