[dreamcastegirl]

I have this hang up where I can't stand the idea of beginning a story in the middle; if an earlier iteration exists, I can't just dip in at the point that has arrested my attention, I have to start at the beginning. I'm also notoriously bad at engaging with new things, so when I first saw information regarding the Gridmancartoon from 2017, it took me a while to decide that, yes, this was something I wanted to watch.

Therefore, in order to get to the point where I felt I could watch the more recent cartoon, I have spent the last few days watching the original Denkou Choujin Gridman in order to prepare myself. This is what I learnt:

Firstly, decidedly unintentionally, viewing the world of Gridman from 2021 is a very nostalgic experience for me, and there are a number of situational details in the setting that truly make me feel wistful. I was roughly the same age as our three protagonists, Naoto, Yuka, and Ippei, in the years in which the show was produced and the story is set, but despite this, I genuinely assumed the three protagonists were far younger due to the manner in which they are portrayed; certainly I wasn't as innocent when I was 15-years-old. Regardless of this slight dissonace, one of the show's genuine strengths is in how likeable these characters are... well, how likeable at least two of them are.

Naoto is probably considered to be the lead character, a young man whose sense of justice resonates so strongly with the spirit of Gridman—a "Hyper Agent from Hyper World" that he merges with in order to fight giant monsters within infected machines—and whom the stories mostly revolve around. He is initially contacted by Gridman via a homemade computer he has constructed after school with the aid of Yuka, his childhood friend and the real brains of the operation, and Ippei, who is just... brash and loud and annoying. Please don't get me wrong, I absolutely understand the reasoning for Ippei's character type and the kind of drama he brings to each story, it's just he's so obnoxious whilst doing it. Most of the time, his role seems to be to complain in a whiny voice and half-heartedly vie with Naoto for Yuka's attention, so, I guess, in that respect, this portrayal of adolescent boyhood is somewhat authentic?

The blurring of identities between Naoto and Gridman is a lot less prominent than in Tsuburaya's other more famous production, Ultraman. Whilst Gridman shares a lot of the same elements in play with the older series—a giant hero from another realm who must merge with a human host to fight monsters within a certain time limit before his power runs out—it is notable that, unlike some of the protagonists in Ultraman, Naoto is not dead, and his real function is pretty much to serve as an anchor or battery for Gridman's presence in the world. Though Ippei and Yuka seem very clear on the fact that Naoto is independent of Gridman, Yuka in particular seems to attribute Gridman's triumphs to Naoto, and really gives him more credit than he actually deserves. It's like rewarding your plug socket for the fact that a band you liked made a really good record and you enjoyed listening to it.

The story revolves around the initial contact made between these three children and the fourth dimensional construct, Gridman, as he pursues the rogue programme, Kahn Digifer, who is at once a malevolent force within the story, yet also acts as a source of somewhat naïve amusement in the unfolding narrative. It is he who empowers the monsters that each week, Gridman/Naoto must face, and yet it is only through his own relationship with human antagonist, Takeshi, who serves as an anchor for evil in the world, though both he and Kahn Digifer remain distinct and individual, the latter only encouraging the former's misanthropy, and taking advantage of the resulting inspiration to create new monsters.

If you are a loser like me, and you watched Digimon 02 when younger, you'll be aware of what is going on here; Takeshi, reprehensible as many of his actions are, misguided as he often is, is never truly depicted as evil—in fact one of the great strengths of the series is the way in which it addresses Takeshi's social awkwardness, the perceived slights he feels in regards to the people around him, especially Yuka, who he has obvious feelings for, yet who remains oblivious to this as he can never convey his emotions in a way that is considerate of how she might feel about the matter. Perhaps, if you're reading this, you too might have had such an experience in adolescence, I know I certainly did.

Kahn Digifer, however, well, he's a different kettle of fish, and despite being responsible for bringing Takeshi's monsters to life each week, it would seem his budget for evil is severely reduced, as a lot of the time the series rolls out the same creature designs more than once, often within the space of five episodes or so. I understand the financial consideration here, all of these monster designs seem to have been original to the series, and it can't have been cost effective to only use them once, but, at the same time, it makes the series feel as if it is treading water at times. Perhaps though, this is my fault for not only watching the series over a condensed period, but also for not being the intended audience for whom this might well not have been such a big deal.

Yet for all that might be deficient in regards to Gridman's monsters, the designs of our hero's power-ups—a fleet of tanks, jets, robot dinosaurs, and armour created by Yuka and Ippei—are fantastic, and harken back to concurrent designs in things like Transformers; the additional armour, God Zenon, who can also be controlled independently of Gridman, is especially striking, appearing more than a little like 1988's Powermaster Optimus Prime.

With all this technical knowhow going on, I continually found myself wondering how Ippei's parents did not notice the rise in electric bills with these three kids down in the basement continually running their massive homemade computer. Also, there is the issue of phone bills. In 1993, staying online during peak hours must have cost Ippei's family a small fortune!

One of the things that really stood out to me throughout the course of these 39 episodes was how well-rounded some of its characters are. Whilst it is undoubtedly dated, whilst it was clearly produced as children's entertainment, and I'm sure that no one making the show really considered the kind of legacy it might leave behind, I found Gridman's inclination towards sensitivity when dealing with disability and social issues to be truly rewarding, a great example of this being in episode #17, when Shigeru, a boy injured during an accident playing football who feels increasingly isolated from his former life, attempts to hold the team to ransom by hacking their computer and stealing the data for one of Gridman's power-ups. The resolution to this, the way in which our three heroes go out of their way to include Shigeru, how they recognise that his actions are bad, but his motives come from a place of sadness and frustration really moved me. I kind of wished that both he and his sister had become regular characters.

There are a number of good episodes, to be honest, absurd as the stories are; do you want to watch a drama where a monster turns everyone into stereotypical delinquent Yankiis? Gridman has you covered. How about an episode where a cram school brainwashes students ala Sailor Moon, and the teacher starts dressing like a Nazi war criminal? Again, Gridman has got your back.

Over and over again, the show commits itself to telling fun stories within the limitations of its medium and budget. According to wikipedia, this was one of the first productions in which Tsuburaya used digital cameras, and had I seen the show at the time of its initial broadcast, I would have disliked this completely, associating the look and feel with it with news shows, the quality of the image lacking all of the warmth and familiarity of celluloid. In 2021, however, having seen Iwai Shunji's Fireworks, Should We See It from the Side or the Bottom? countless times, and being afforded the chance to witness the world of 1993 realised again in such crisp and clean detail, I find myself feeling far more kindly towards the use of such cameras. Perhaps, this is also a symptom of the ubiquitousness of digital media nowadays, but the look and feel of Gridman does not feel now as dissonant as I once would have accused it of being.

During the finale of the show, and at several moments before, when Kahn Digifer puts into action plans that damage the environment and the air quality, there is not only the shadow of our awareness during those times of just what we have wrought with pollution, but the disturbing recognition of a disaster that would come to a head in 1995 with the attack on Tokyo's subway system by the religious cult, Aum Shinrikyo. Seeing moments in this television show from 1993 - 1994 when commuters and shoppers are forced to crawl on their knees beneath a cloud of poison as the police rush to aid them with oxygen tanks is... poignant at best.

So, what can I say in closing in regards to the show? Gridman is very much a product of its time, and in many ways is very typical of Tsuburaya's approach during the '90s as they cast about trying to develop new ideas whilst not straying too far from their familiar formula. It would not be unfair, I think, to refer to Gridman as Ultraman with the serial numbers filed off, and yet there is sadly an element of this in play. Despite this, it is a surprisingly concise and self-contained show that offers the audience a lot of sentiment and enjoyment if you're willing to take it for what it is and not ask too much of it. It also has an absolutely cracking theme tune too.

Okay, now, I've watched all of this, I can go on to watch the cartoon, right? I mean, I don't have to watch Superhuman Samurai Syber-Squad, right? Right?

*looks at you pleadingly*