While it is easy to dismiss Japanese animation as merely children’s fodder, one simply cannot ignore with any justification the deep probes into our human psyche that these works of art deploys. In Arrivederci, Space Cruiser Yamato, a simple space opera that shows a band of courageous humans struggling against a hostile galactic empire, the basic virtues of love and harmony are intricately twisted with the sense of justice and duty, and the startling outcome of the noble acceptance of self-sacrifice for the greater good. These themes are visited upon and reinforced by Mitsuru Yoshida’s article The “Space Cruiser Yamato” Generation. Susumu Kodai, the young commander of the Yamato, truly makes one ponder the fundamental values that the world takes for granted by saying, “sometimes it is easier to die than to survive”.
Yoshida, who incidentally was a survivor of the original IJN Yamato, leads the reader of his article through the trials and revelations the “new” Yamato and crew experience in the animated world. From the beginning of the first movie, to the climatic ending of the second film, Yoshida subtly reminds everyone that “absolute opposition to war is a natural feeling”, and the movies do not present “an ugly, gruesome war like those that have been repeated time and again through history” (86). This clear distinction between the two is derived from a unique perspective that Yoshida possesses, being able to compare the fictional space ship and its crew to the ultimate symbol of Japanese power in World War II. Where the original IJN Yamato met its demise on a suicide attack near Okinawa, its futuristic reincarnation was redeployed to defend Earth and prevent wars from ravaging mankind’s home world. Although Kodai’s philosophical lament on the ease of choosing death over life begs one to remember the same spirit exhibited by some in the Imperial Japanese Navy near the end of the war, Yoshida is adamant in defending Yoshinobu Nishizaki’s magnificent work by stating that while the “true feelings of those young men who so courageously sacrificed themselves ‘for the sake of the country and the Tenno’ (as suicide troops) […] the young audiences’ excited heartbeats and tear-stained cheeks indicated pure, innocent sentiments that have no relation to the futile deaths of the kamikaze units”. (86) As such, Kodai’s statement represents the ultimate choice one has to make for a noble, idealistic cause, rather than for paupers and self-styled petty rulers of the human race.
To better understand the impact of Kodai’s words, it is necessary then to analyze and reflect upon the film from which it sprang. Throughout the second (some would argue the final) film of the legendary battleship, both major and minor characters were presented the same difficult choice. On the whole for the minor characters, one would expect correctly that they would be expendable for the sake of moving the storyline along, and yet their sacrifice does not go unnoticed. Saito, along with his Space Cavalry contingent that functions as a crack infantry unit for the ship, displays a sense of bravery and gallantry that modern-day military units would be hard pressed to match. Their dedication is evident during the planetary assault of Telazart, as well as the near-suicidal boarding action of Desslar’s battleship. More importantly, Saito perhaps displays the values and sensibilities of the Cavalrymen the best with Nishizaki’s carefully depictions. The scene where Saito faces off against the enemy commander on Telazart, ending with Saito’s discarding of the weapon in disgust with which he just used to kill another shows a definitive side of a man simply doing his job, deriving no great pleasure from it. Furthermore, his last stand in the Gatlantis’s shield generator room with Sanada brings forth the best example, causing one to respect his sacrifice in the name of patriotism, so that his shipmates might have a true fighting chance against the hostile invaders. However, one does question why both Saito and Sanada chose to die fighting while sending Kodai back to the ship, instead of working together to devise a efficient escape plan. Did they really choose to be patriotic, or were they simply too exhausted to continue the struggle? Perhaps escape was not an option if their mission was to succeed, but the audience will never know.
The “Black Tiger” bomber squadron, headed by Kato, also heeded the call of duty, and aided the Yamato in its honorable quest. In the numerous engagements in which the space fighters were involved in, all the pilots followed orders unerringly (and died, more often than not), fully confident that their fight was the right one. A prime example would be during the boarding action of the Gatlantis, when one of the fighter pilot’s craft was severely damaged. Rather than returning to the battleship as Kodai ordered, the pilot instead redirected his flight path to crash into the enemy fortress, mimicking the actions of a Japanese kamikaze pilot. It is certainly conceivable that the pilot could have nursed his craft back to the Yamato, but once again the audience is left with the thought in the back of their mind, wondering of an alternative choice. Kato himself fought to the end in the Gatlantis hangar, holding the spearhead long enough so Kodai (and maybe Saito and Sanada) could return and retreat en masse to their ship. In the face of overwhelming odds, one would be hard pressed to find fault with Kato’s fate, and a sense of respect of Kato’s loyalty to the ship, and especially Kodai, permeates the scene when Kodai finally learns that his comrade had died fighting to the last.
Captain Hijikata, who was rescued from the flagship of the Solar Defense Fleet by the Yamato crew, was introduced in the movie while facing the very same choice Kodai would face later. With his fleet completely shattered, and his ship dying around him, Hijikata insisted on being left to die with his ship, rather than to live with a painful future. In this instance, Kodai made the choice for Hijikata, and with the help of Saito evacuated him from the ship, resulting in Hijikata transferring his flag to the Yamato. Whether Hijikata was grateful for such an act was not explored in detail, but in return he did serve Yamato and her crew well, and transferred command of the crippled battleship to Kodai before his death during the final attack on Gatlantis. Hijikata tried to choose death when his comrades were slaughtered to the last man, and had it not been for Kodai’s presence, he may well have done so. But when forced to live with the past, Hijikata bravely ventures forth, living his life to the fullest in exacting just revenge against Gatlantis.
While the minor characters portrayed simple values of patriotism and loyalty in the choice of life and death, the major characters goes a step further and explores the higher meanings of love and devotion. Medical Officer Yuki, Kodai’s fiancé in the movie, chose to stowaway aboard the vessel when the Yamato departed Earth, knowing fully well she is risking her life for doing so. Nishizaki depicted her love for Kodai through muted words, and thunderous actions, while challenging any force that is willing to break such a bond. Onboard Desslar’s command ship, Yuki used herself as a shield against a shot that would have killed Kodai. This act of self-sacrifice for a loved one cannot simply be ignored, and brings forth the question how valuable is love for a person? Even though she survived the fatal wound, her insistence on being on the bridge during the assault on Gatlantis showed her support for Kodai, and dislike of separation. Unfortunately, her condition deteriorated as the battle waged on, until she died in Kodai’s sobbing embrace.
Even though an alien in Nishizaki’s world, the anime creator did instill a hint of human values in the exiled dictator Desslar (his empire was destroyed by Yamato in the first film). His unbridled lust for revenge against the Yamato compelled him to use every option available, and yet at the final moment aboard his burning ship, Desslar finally realizes the magnitude of his sins when Yuki tried to tend his wounds, but was shot by a surviving Gatlantis officer. The revelation comes perhaps too late, and the only offering Desslar has available was to teach Kodai how to destroy the White Comet. With that, the outlandish blue-skinned alien jumped out of the airlock, at a last ditch attempt of redemption. In all due consideration, this act probably exemplifies Kodai’s words the most. Instead of continuing to live, and side with the humans whom he has quarreled with for far too long, Desslar chose the easiest way out of his situation, throwing his life away for no other purpose than to clear his conscience. Last but not least is Kodai himself, who started this controversy in the first place. Throughout the movie he has shown varying shades of courage, bravery, loyalty, affection, and confidence to his crew and ship, as well as to his lover. When Gatlantis undergoes its third (and hopefully final) transformation, Kodai realizes that the Yamato is crippled and toothless from the relentless attacks. It is here that his fateful words are transmuted to the audience, almost pleading the audience to experience the same thing he is, despite the fact that he’s merely a two dimensional drawing created from pen and paper. Captain Okita’s ghost provides a final guidance for Kodai, showing him that when everything has been depleted Kodai still has the Yamato, and his life. One could argue that such an eerie presentation harks back to the deployment of the kamikaze units, but Kodai’s order for all remaining survivors to abandon ship and “continue to survive through whatever difficulties you may encounter […] and strive to create warmhearted happiness and to build a wonderful world for tomorrow” (Arrivederci, Space Cruiser Yamato) before the end run contradicts the historical context of kamikaze attacks. His final act in the movie, coaxing the Yamato to ramming speed, is muted by his justification of the act to his lover. Should the audience applaud Kodai’s choice to ensure a mission accomplished, or should they criticize him for shirking from a life without the most important person in the world to him? Obviously, it is a question most people, when faced with it themselves, would rather not answer, one which is probably the most difficult choice anyone would ever have to make in their lifetime.
In and of itself, Arrivederci, Space Cruiser Yamato was a soul-searching work of art, and remains so to this day. While the premise of the movie, and the ship itself, was derived from a defunct symbol of power, Nishizaki breathes new life into a deep scar of Japanese history and quite possibly tried curing it so that future generations will not make the same mistakes, and deny history the option to repeat itself. Even though Kodai chose death in the end, his words urge others around him to survive, in whatever scenario life finds them in. Facing the problems plaguing the world today, it is very plausible to apply Kodai’s sentiment in reality, and ask oneself “should I face my destiny standing up, or should I accept it lying down?”