Still, their similarities needn't be ignored completely for a discussion to be worthwhile; they do exist and people will inevitably notice them. RahXephon is an introspective giant robot anime about a uniquely qualified pubescent pilot who gets drafted by a shady organization to fight otherworldly monsters to protect a world that's already been shaken by a cataclysmic event that took place during an iconic year, while also struggling to deal with puberty, distant parents, his own sense of self-worth, romantic entanglements, the expectations of adults, and growing up in general. There's no question it would've been made very differently—or not made at all—in a world where Evangelion didn't exist, and RahXephon even pays its more famous forerunner direct, loving homage a few times. My personal favorite is a scene in episode 11 that is a backwards shot-for-shot remake of an iconic (and awkward) scene from Eva episode 5. Except that the context, meaning, and emotions conveyed are all completely different, which says a lot about RahXephon as a piece of art inspired by another piece of art. Evangelion was a very important influence to RahXephon, but their similarities are only skin-deep. True inspiration means borrowing concepts that you admire or find fascinating, and then casting them in a completely new light to create something new that reflects your unique view of the world rather than repeating someone else's, which director Yutaka Izubichi and his crew have done admirably.
Evangelion is also far from the only influence that colors this series. RahXephon draws from many older, perhaps forgotten mecha anime as well, notably Brave Raideen, which informed the design of the titular titan and some of the series' mythology. Outside of anime, the series blends influences from numerous cultures, time periods and media both obvious and obscure, from ancient Mesoamerican civilizations to Japanese folklore to Churchward's mythical continent of Mu to the paintings of Salvador Dali. Thankfully, most of these cultural references have some narrative or thematic connection to the story and never truly cross into "details for the sake of details". The series can be watched and thoroughly enjoyed without having read The Dandelion Girl or understanding the meanings of musical terms like Allegretto and Falsetto, but that extra knowledge is a nice bonus if you're willing to hunt for it. The world of RahXephon is saturated with subtle and not-so-subtle details and eye-catching visual concepts almost to the point of overload, but all the seemingly disparate pieces fit together in the end, at least in spirit, and everything in its world feels like it belongs there.
RahXephon was also blessed with the technical and artistic strengths to convey that world. This was one of Bones' first projects as an independent studio, and also made during the very early days of digital animation. But the results wildly exceed expectations and have stood the test of time very well. The character designs are sharp and distinctive, and their facial expressions are capable of communicating all manner of complex, subtle emotions with great finesse, which is especially important in a series where characters have a tendency to say a few words to convey volumes of meaning. These are further bolstered by excellent cinematography, beautifully rendered backgrounds and brilliant color choices, with particular emphasis on contrasts between red and blue. The animation itself can be limited compared to modern Bones and some of the effects are noticeably dated, but for the most part it knows its limitations and works well within them. The design work on display is more than enough to carry it even at its most restrained, and the staff at Bones knew how to manage their money, meaning the animation peaks at all the right moments. At worst the production work here is still a notch above merely competent (with one or two noticeable but ultimately forgivable dips in quality), and at best it's a visual treat over a decade later.
While the animation has aged quite well, time has not been so kind to the English dub, but it's not for lack of effort. Contrasting the more low-key and soothing Japanese language track, the dub is loud and raw to a fault. On the downside, this means that some characters sound awkward and over-acted, and at times unsure of the emotions they're supposed to be conveying. Some actors take several episodes to grow into their roles, and others never do at all, to say nothing of some of the stiff, overly direct translations they have to read. Still, a few good performances can do a lot to elevate an uneven product, and the standouts of this dub own their roles completely. Chris Patton, who plays the protagonist Ayato, captures the thoughtful and strong-willed but at times emotionally immature teenager remarkably well, and Monica Rial does a positively bang up job capturing both the tough and fragile sides of Haruka. Both actors have cited their roles (and this series) as personal favorites, and the passion behind their performances can be felt. While this isn't enough to recommend the overall very clunky English dub over the far more polished Japanese version, it may still be worth a listen.
But in a show that uses music prominently as a motif, it’s the soundtrack that really holds it all together. The composer, Ichiko Hashimoto, is a jazz pianist who’s never scored an anime series before nor since, and she gave RahXephon a sound unlike that of any other anime. An eclectic blend of rock, jazz, chamber music and several other styles integrate effortlessly and give the series a personality that's classy and dignified, yet also friendly and inviting. It's also an incredibly diverse score that can explode into blaring trumpets and war drums when a battle begins, descend into glorious experimental madness when Ayato enters a dream sequence, and envelop its audience in enigmatic, otherworldly chanting as we delve further into the mysteries of the Mu. The only songs not composed by Hashimoto are the opening theme, "Hemisphere", and "Garden of Everything", which is never used in the show but is nonetheless perhaps RahXephon's most iconic song and perfectly encapsulates what the story is really about. Both pieces are composed by Yoko Kanno and sung by Maaya Sakamoto (the latter is a duet with Steve Conte), and both are completely worthy additions to an already outstanding soundtrack, making it a must-listen for anime music enthusiasts.
If RahXephon were a conventional mech action series, it could be recommended on the strengths of its style and aesthetic alone, but delivering spectacular robot fights isn't its first concern. Like an Evangelion unit, the RahXephon moves quite organically, but unlike an Eva its movements always seem burdened by its own weight. Every motion it makes is slow and deliberate, and consequently from an action choreography standpoint it simply doesn't have the cool factor Evangelion did. That's not to say the fights lack tension or suspense or a sense of purpose, though. The monsters, enormous clay puppets called Dolems, are varied in both their designs and abilities, often genuinely threatening, and the battles against them are filled with unique imagery. It can be quite captivating to see an organic golem split in half while gushing blue blood. During one battle, there is a shot of the RahXephon's hand forcing its way out through a Dolem's face, fingers emerging around its still-screaming mouth, and it’s just as awesome as it sounds. But generally this series doesn't have the pulse-pounding blow-by-blow excitement of a true action series. While Eva is mostly remembered and revered as a heavily introspective character piece, part of the reason for its mass appeal was that it could initially hook audiences on pure, powerful spectacle. RahXephon has no such hook early on, and this can present a challenge to new viewers who don't know what kind of anime to expect.
And indeed, the question of what to expect going into RahXephon is not an easy one to answer. We see the world mostly through Ayato's eyes and learn as he learns, from the ground up. It takes a full three episodes to reveal the very basic premise you'd generally expect to see on the cover of the box, and another two or three to establish a solid dynamic that the rest of its episodes can build off of. From there it becomes somewhat easier to follow, but this is definitely not a series you can multitask while watching. RahXephon's mysteries are many, complex, and very slow to unravel, and if you're not paying careful attention you'll end up missing a lot. This is a mature, adult fantasy that speaks eloquent words in a soft voice, delivering key plot points and casual character interactions with equal importance. Like watching a painter at his craft, whether you can see beauty in each individual stroke or are just waiting for the finished product will come down to your own patience and proclivities.
The "strokes" with which RahXephon paints its picture are its characters, and at the center of its cast is the hero Ayato Kamina. Ayato is a seemingly ordinary teenager who lives in a version of Tokyo that has been displaced from the rest of time and space, and leaves his home to discover that he is destined to "tune the world". Over the course of the series, he slowly discovers the truth about the separation between the blue-blooded Mulians that now occupy the world known as Tokyo Jupiter and the red-blooded human beings they've isolated themselves from, unlocks the secrets of the powerful golem known as the RahXephon, and must find out what his own role is in this war between worlds with powerful figures and close friends and family pulling at him from both sides. But while the power he's been granted may be extraordinary, Ayato himself always feels like a fully realized, thoroughly grounded, and very real person, despite his reality being repeatedly turned on its head. He's not above the influence of others, often getting dragged along one way or another when he's lost and without direction, sometimes escaping one controlling environment only to fall into another one. He also has a dangerous habit of not asking important questions when he's afraid of what he'll find. But he still acts on his own agency, lashing out when he feels wronged, deceived or betrayed and drawing his own conclusions, for better or for worse, from every new discovery he makes.
Still, Ayato is just one in a cast of around twenty characters, and to the series' credit, they all very much take on a life of their own, many of them growing far outside of the archetypes it'd be easy to initially pin them as. Supporting Ayato, in every sense of the word, is Haruka, the woman who pulled him out of his world, known as Tokyo Jupiter, and into hers. It becomes immediately clear that while her intentions toward Ayato are benevolent, she's not being completely honest about her motivations, and her tough, confident exterior belies a very old, very deep emotional wound that she cannot bury no matter how hard she tries. She and Ayato—and the relationship between them—are the clear heart and soul of the story, but they are far from the only great characters worth mentioning. The other cast members have varying levels of depth and complexity, but the series still manages to breathe life and humanity into nearly all of them, ranging from the wonderfully complex characters like Ayato's estranged mother Maya and the outwardly cheerful but distant and secretive Doctor Itsuki, to simple, likable ordinary people like the idealistic but dependable TERRA officer Souichi and the reporter Futagami, a character whose sole purpose in the story seems to be spouting exposition, and yet every moment he spends onscreen is a delight. Together, they lend the series a warm, earthy charm that helps to keep it emotionally accessible even when it gets intellectually overwhelming.
Like any great painting, though, the true beauty of RahXephon lies not in its individual strokes, but in how they come together. This is a story of resonance between worlds and between people, and its true depths only surface when two characters are given the chance to talk and interact, and the bonds between them are forged, tested, broken and reformed. "Words can't change anything," Ayato says. "They can when people talk to each other," his friend Souichi replies. And talk they do. Whether it's casual banter between friends, key exposition to give the audience and characters another piece of the puzzle, or a thoughtful elaboration on the series' themes, nearly every exchange flows with stunning natural ease, and quite a few of them are surprisingly high-minded and poetic, shedding light on some fantastically nuanced relationships. There's Maya, for instance, and her relationship with Ayato, which is caught between her genuine desire to care for him as a son and her obligation to raise the perfect Instrumentalist. The compromise she reaches between the two is understandable and even sympathetic, but bears disastrous results. Rebound, unrequited and possessive love are given their due alongside the real thing because, after all, they're a part of life too, and seeing characters connect or fail to connect is a rich enough experience that it could have been its own reward.
But then there's the conflict between the Mu and the red-blooded humans, which gradually becomes world-ending in scope and scale as the deadline for "tuning the world" approaches. Attempting to balance and reconcile these two storytelling approaches could have resulted in the series becoming dichotomous and unbalanced. But RahXephon utilizes its larger conflicts to give weight, context and justification to the wide range of small personal issues its cast finds themselves contemplating and debating, often using parallel editing to highlight this, most notably during the iconic, incredibly cinematic climax of episode 19. This comes full circle in the finale, where Ayato finds himself empowered to tune the world and create something new, but he would not be able to accomplish this without a vision, and he derives his vision for a new world from the things he has seen and people he has met in the current one. Inspiration. This series may not be as trailblazing as Evangelion, but it is a passionate, elegantly crafted and thoughtfully woven story about all the timeless, unchanging things that make us human.
Ultimately, RahXephon is about something old as dirt, infinitely complex and incredibly simple. RahXephon is about love, in all its shades and hues. Connecting with others can bring pain and hardships, but a world without these bonds is sterile and joyless. The freedom to choose the life you want to live and the person you want to be with, even if that choice leads to suffering, is something everyone needs to live a fulfilling life, and if you find someone you want to be there for, even as the world is coming down around you, then your existence is a meaningful one. It’s an overwhelmingly positive and empowering message that feels completely earned, and that’s something to be celebrated. Simply put, RahXephon is fantastic. It successfully unites a grand, ambitious story, lofty artistry, and a beating human heart, and the end result resonates long after the final curtain has fallen. That’s more than enough to cement it as an enduring great that deserves to be remembered and rediscovered for many years to come.
