Kill la Thrill, or Kill la Shill?
Anime
Published 09/09/2020, 21:00. Spoiler free.
Airing originally in Japan from October 2013 to March 2014, Kill la Kill is an action-comedy television series. Kill la Kill was written by Kazuki Nakashima and animated by Studio Trigger.
Ryuko Matoi is on a quest for revenge.
Six months after the mysterious murder of her father, her search brings her to the prestigious Hounnoji Academy. Armed with the surviving half of her father’s invention, the Sword Scissor, and a super-powered sailor uniform, Senketsu, Ryuko takes on the Academy’s students, led by Satsuki Kiriyuin, the woman who claims to have killed her father. This is the premise of Kill la Kill, through which the viewer is rocketed at breakneck speed. Unlike mainstream anime such as One Piece or Naruto, Kill la Kill is snappy, sharp and purposeful – emblematic of Studio Trigger’s unique style. Speed takes centre stage, and this creative decision pays off massively. The most successful instance of this is the first seven or eight episodes, during which the viewer grows accustomed to the setting and characters. No time is wasted – no lingering, static shots; no boring exposition; no baseless jargon or floundering dialogue. The quickened pace is undeniably refreshing, after all, why would Ryuko stop to chat as she combats her enemies at one hundred miles per hour?
This meteoric introduction serves as a great example of Kill la Kill’s world building. Honnouji Academy is separated into a caste system, ranging from ‘No Stars’ to ‘Three Stars’. Each star refers to the power level of Honnouji’s trademark Goku uniforms, which imbue the students with extraordinary abilities. Like a mirror, the influence of Goku uniforms is reflected by the setting: No Stars live in slums; Two Stars live in high-end suburbs; Three Stars flashy apartments; and Satsuki, highest of all, resides in her imposing tower at the apex of the main building.
Moreover, the symbol of the Goku star permeates throughout the visual language: it can be seen plastered on the uniforms, on the Academy’s main gate – and even in Ryuko’s eyes! This is a testament to Trigger’s proficiency in design. Conceptually, the character designs also shine. Two examples stuck out to me: Ryuko and Satsuki. Firstly, Ryuko’s colour scheme is black, white and red – a classic, impactful combination which has been historically used to grab one’s attention. Red connotes passion and anger, representing Ryuko’s hot-headedness, her want for revenge and her love for her friends. On the other hand, Satsuki is coloured with blue, white and gold. Gold is regal, conveying the Kiriyuin clan’s unimaginable wealth; white is the colour of purity, an ironic symbol of Satsuki’s elevated status as a woman amongst “the pigs in human clothing”. Lastly, blue signifies security, brought about by her iron-fisted rule over the Academy.
To be expected of Studio Trigger, no expense was spared for animation. Lively, smooth, fluid, and with an excellent understanding of motion and dynamism, the animation in Kill la Kill is nothing short of top tier. As aforementioned, I particularly enjoyed the minimal use of static shots (for a breakdown, see this video here). Kill la Kill is always moving, whether it is the physical movements of the fighters, or figurative movements that convey specific emotions. The beautiful animation is enriched by an equally beautiful soundtrack – composed by Hiroyuki Sawano – imbibing key moments with unquantifiable gravitas through the synthesis of picture and sound. Favourites include Nonon Jakuzure’s theme, which, packed to the brim with boisterous wind and percussion instruments, combines a cheerful marching band melody with the destructive power of Nonon; Satsuki’s theme, a slowly climbing crescendo that explodes with imposing resonance, every bit as scary and terrifying as one would expect, complete with sweeping bass and an unbroken rhythm. Adrenaline fuelled, exultant and blood boiling, Kill la Kill had me replaying its soundtrack for many hours after it was finished.
However, the show is not without its flaws. The most glaring example is the ridiculous sexualisation of the female frontrunners. Kill la Kill is classed as ‘ecchi’, a Japanese word pertaining to “light, sexual themes and imagery”, and an umbrella term to refer to playfully sexual anime. But the manner in which Kill la Kill and its female heroines are presented is undoubtedly problematic. Ryuko’s Senketsu, among other outfits worn in Kill la Kill, transforms into something fit for a stripper; insultingly, the majority of the male cast are not given the same treatment. The omnipresence of the ‘male gaze’ is without question – an industry trope that too often goes unquestioned by anime’s male-dominated fanbase. The objectification of Ryuko especially undercuts her status as the heroine, suggesting that her value lies in her appeal to men, rather than her courageousness. This raises uncomfortable questions about the status of women in Japanese society, moreso given that Ryuko is only 17 years old. On top of that, plenty of adult characters flirt with and invade Ryuko’s privacy, resulting in some cringe-inducing moments. Despite this, the grip of the male gaze is loosened as the story progress, becoming more comedic, equitable and genderless as the existence of Nudist Beach, a shadowy organisation, is revealed.
The hilarity of Nudist Beach cannot be understated, a paragon of Kill la Kill’s genius writing, and representative of the show’s refusal to take itself too seriously. Additionally, Mako Mankanshoku is a personal favourite, interjecting tense, story-driven junctures with scatter-brained intensity, yet always wholesome and on the mark. Aided by her quirky, underachieving, relatable family, Mako is a vector through which the show’s humour excels. When it comes to plot, however, the writing begins to falter. Kill la Kill’s concise first act gives way to convolution. Lazily, climactic fight scenes are settled by typical anime plot twists à la Dragonball Z or Naruto. The concept of set-up and pay-off is ignored, thrown aside most painfully in the final episodes, wherein the ending is robbed of its impact. Normally, this would be unforgivable, but these mishaps are easier to ignore in the context of Kill la Kill’s cartoonish silliness.
Reaching a verdict on Kill la Kill proved more challenging than I had expected. My inner animation, music and comedy fan was crying out, ‘Joe! You have to give it a high score!’ With the exception of some occasionally poor writing, this was one of my most enjoyable viewing experiences yet. But therein lies the tragedy of the show: in its potential to be great. The parasitic permeation of the male gaze throughout all aspects of its development are inexcusable. I could not, in good conscience, proudly declare my fandom of Kill la Kill to a female relative or friend, so how could it score high in my review? Its intrinsic sexism is obvious. My final word: Kill la Kill is worth a watch, but it should be used as a teachable moment – about women’s roles, about the industry as a whole, and about the male gaze.
Re:View by Joe Ward 