Earth hasn’t been the happiest of planets these days. Lacking sufficient energy and dealing with increased pollution meant we had to look outside our pale blue dot to survive. Fortunately (or unfortunately as Dallos shows) that last hope happened to be a little dusty ball orbiting roughly a quarter-million miles away.
Sometime in the 21st century, the Moon was heavily colonized and turned into the biggest mining operation this side of the solar system. Things are finally getting better on terra firma, its inhabitants able to regain the idyllic days they used to know. Life on the Moon could hardly be worse. The Lunarites used to be hailed as heroes back home, but now everyone is so used to the return to prosperity that no one pays them any heed. Worse still, the ruling party on the Moon itself is treating them like worthless insects. So what is a subjugated group supposed to do?
Apparently if you’re not part of a union, it’s best to grab a gun.
Which is just about where I start asking little logical consistency questions I probably shouldn’t. Why are there any sorts of armaments on the Moon to begin with? Certainly there were no indigenous tribes of lunar rocks that needed quelling. That whole ‘vacuum of space problem’ necessitates that a strong infrastructure be developed before a single person is living lunarside. So wouldn’t you just arm your law enforcement with batons or cattle prods and call it a day? Aren’t you worried that a stray bullet or laser rifle pulse would blast a hole in the city’s protective dome and vent everyone faster than the air escaping this plot? And why the devil do you need fast hover cars with retractable stilt-legs when the population’s preferred form of locomotion are feet and the subway. And you do know where the latter stops occasionally, don’t you?
Characters also take a backseat in Dallos’ plot-driven narrative. It’s all about the struggle of the rebel workers against their overlords. Everyone is merely an archetype: the impressionable youth, unsure which side is right; the rebel leader with his insistence that the Lunarites deserve independence; the villain who must confront these rebels and a growing suspicion that the establishment may be unjust. While there are moments when they are conflicted as individuals, there is hardly much proof that they are anything other than pawns in the story’s telling and are ultimately interchangeable.
Even the plot feels strained. Granting that the present situation is sensible without argument broaches the question: why is this happening? Is there any benefit to the maltreatment of the Lunarites? How are they being hurt? All the men have barrel-chests and forearms as big as thighs, so they are obviously not being starved. There isn’t much romance going on, but there is nothing pointing to the fact that people are forbidden from falling in love and starting families. As best I can figure, the Lunarites just aren’t allowed to go back to Earth, but no one really seems to want to other than the nostalgic elders pining for halcyon days. This lack of concrete evidence really hampers one from hating the ruling body or cheering on the rebels.
Since this has been dubbed the very first OVA, I feel like I’m treading on hallowed ground and to be critical is to be sacrilegious. The plot and characters are shallow. That much is clear. The technical and artistic production, however, is fantastic. The animation is surprisingly fluid and the action constructed better than shows that were made a decade later. It’s violent, without being graphic. People die, but the carnage is understated. Costume design is… a little absurd, but forgivable.
Only in the 80s can you still get away with giving a girl a pink spacesuit without being laughed at or having your face slapped.
Instead of a desiccated series of moonbases on the lunar surface, the inhabitants live in built-up craters encased in bubble domes. There’s a breathable atmosphere, blue sky and clouds, and homes erected all along the inner walls that look like adobe pueblos out south-western America. Call it terraforming on a tiny scale, minus the greenery.
There really is a Man in the Moon too. For some reason, left unexplained, a mechanical face rests at the bottom of one particular deep crater. The Lunarites think it might be a god. Despite the mystery we never learn much about it, although I will say that it results in maybe the single coolest visual change to occur in an OP. Great imagery is the best Dallos has to offer. At one point we see a statue depicting a host of people either climbing towards, or being crushed by, the Moon. Even the lunar graveyard is hauntingly poetic, impotently staring at the planet it cannot reach and unable to turn away due to synchronous rotation.
The music is so totally 80s. You just can’t not love it. From the grand sweeping orchestration of the OP with its violins and flutes to the slightly-poppy synthesizer bits throughout. It makes you wonder why dramatic moments in today’s shows always have to sound so, well, dramatic. Where has the sense of fun gone? Why can’t action have a happy theme song?
Dallos stops short of being a space-based rumination on communism, but it also stops short of a lot of things. What moments of poetry and introspection exist are not woven into a pleasing whole. I can’t recommend it, but I can’t dissuade you from it either. If you’d like a quick two-hour hop into an action-centric show, you’ll probably be entertained. Anyone searching for further depths will only find the cold depths of space.
Explore at your own risk.
