The Anime Backlog

Robot Carnival

Hey everybody, how is 2025 treating you so far? It's been a damn cold January here in the PNW, which is having a direct negative effect on my ability to follow through on my resolution for the year (i.e., go outside, Lynzee). Instead, I'm huddled next to the fireplace with at least three blankets at all times. What can you do?

I had a hard time committing to an anime for this month's column (I use practically all my executive function ability to be a competent...executive, which means I flounder around in my free time trying to figure out what enjoyable activity I should do). While I originally assigned myself a particular show, I ended up watching a film I wanted to see instead. Sure, this is work, but part of working through a backlog is finding out what you're in the mood for and letting that guide you. I was in the mood for an anthology film about robots.

Note: This column will routinely include spoilers. Reader discretion is advised.

For my fellow oldtaku, this will seem self-explanatory, but this is a quick reminder that new anime fans are born every minute, and we all started with not knowing things. At least part of my goal with The Anime Backlog is to reintroduce older works to new fans so they can test the waters. We are all inundated with more than 40 new shows vying for our attention every three months. That's overwhelming on its own without long-time viewers also yelling about obscure, older releases that the whippersnappers haven't made time to watch yet.

Robot Carnival is an anthology film (technically an Discotek's releases, the visuals are immensely better, and this is a film where you don't want to skimp on the visual experience.

Robot Carnival is a peek into the early works of what would become some of animation's most touted names. Throughout nine distinct segments, the film takes us from Frankenstein's laboratory to a futuristic amusement park to a sentai robot battle in the Meiji era. Among the talents featured are Wolf Children) makes an appearance on "A Tale of Two Robots: Chapter Meiji" in his first-ever character design credit.

Each segment was the brainchild of its respective director; the sky was the limit so long as a robot was part of its central conceit. It's rare now that we get any kind of entertainment that isn't compromised by something, whether that's the production committee's directives to play it safe for a financial investment or finite resources like time and money. The crew on Robot Carnival had budgetary constraints, and the choice to produce each segment in relative secret created all kinds of issues. Still, the spectacle and breadth of diversity give the impression that each director could create something personally fulfilling. Of course, skimming the Blu-ray's liner notes shows that, like any artist, quite a few of the directors later felt they didn't produce something as impressive as their peers.

This is a perfect film. Robot Carnival is timeless, and the restoration on the Blu-ray easily uplifts it to one of the best anime films I've ever seen. Its opening and ending sequences are darkly funny and immediately stood out as an animated homage to Monty Python sketch (yes, I felt vindicated when this exact reference was mentioned in the home video release notes). Otomo and Atsuko Fukushima's segments show spectacle as a destructive force as an automated circus comes to town only to level the rural farmsteads in its wake.

My favorite segment is easily Umetsu's "Presence." The sequence reminded me of The Vanishing/Spoorloos (1988). The point-of-view character is a deeply flawed man seeking out a specific, misogynistic form of companionship only to lash out when even his ideal female creation begins to question her purpose and expresses a desire to explore beyond the role he has set out for her. The color design and the female robot are gorgeous. It's of little surprise to me that her image has become the most recognizable from the entire film.

While Presence is an easy favorite, Robot Carnival excels in every segment. Its throughline is the possibility of technology, both as a terrorizing force and an uplifting companion. It doesn't commit to one outcome, allowing the audience to imagine themselves in a future of technological prospects. We could shape our technological relationship into one of dominance, war, companionship, or a new kind of hero. Its viewpoint is neither dour nor saccharine. I guarantee that after your first viewing, you'll have your own favorite.

Now, where can I get the soundtrack on vinyl?

Final Verdict: Emphatically Yes.