Setting up a premise for Concrete Revolutio is almost impossible. The plot threads of this series twist and articulate in almost imperscrutable webs, changing the narrative landscape of the series in almost every episode. As a narrative technique this is a double-edged sword, while on one hand, it makes for an almost mesmerizing viewing experience, as events unfold in front of our eyes in unpredictable ways, its borderline nonsensical twists reinforcing the fundamental powerlessness of the protagonists in the face of systems way bigger than them; on the other it can make for a story that is very challenging to follow as a linear plot, given that the viewer is required to pay attention to every single line of dialogue, while at the same time being careful to remember each flash-back and flash-forward, even those originally shown with no context.
To try and sum it up, at its core Concrete Revolutio uses an alternate version of post-war Japan, where both humans and super-human exist, as the backdrop for a story about political allegiance, insecurity and the difficulty of discerning an abstract concept of righteousness (or JUSTICE!) in an era of information overload. Each episode generally follows the “super-human bureau”, an organization which purpose is to both protect super-humans and protect humans from super-humans, dealing with relatively self-contained issues, while flash-backs and flash-forward are used to both expand on the core themes of each episode, and to weave the self-contained events in a wider narrative tapestry.
While the repeated and constant use of the word “JUSTICE!” and the subtly comic book inspired art style of the backgrounds, might make Concrete Revolutio a good fit to be slotted within the rising trend of western-superhero inspired anime, both is theming and aesthetic, when looked at closer, seem to be more deep-rooted in Japan that one might expect. Super-humans in this case, are not simply a transposition of western superhero tropes. The term is instead used as an umbrella for any kind of fantasy fiction trope, from aliens and yokai, to sentai heroes and robots. Aesthetically this makes for a very interesting choice, as the series often plays on contrasting the complex morality of its narrative, with fights that seem borrowed directly from the overactive imagination of a cartoon-loving Japanese kid, with clear stand-ins for iconic fictional figures like Daitan III or Godzilla, facing each other in big monster fights.
This conflict between innocent ideals and the complexities of reality is one of the themes at the core of the series, as idealistic characters end up facing a reality made of hidden motives and overly intricate plots in a manner that can be reminiscent of some weird overlapping of the themes of Metal Gear Solid 2 and the original Gundam.
Unlike Metal Gear Solid 2 though, Concrete Revolutio doesn’t just outline a world where the control of information frames righteousness and the overload of information makes it so that it is basically impossible to discern schemes from truths, but goes one step further, diving deep into the insecurities and paranoia that that environment creates, in a more personal and character-driven way. This approach works quite well, as it avoids the cliché “innocence lost” kind of character arc, which seemed what the series was going for in the first couple of episodes, instead developing in the way more interesting direction of characters having to grapple with their failability, and the failability of the systems they uphold, making for portraits of doubt and paranoia that are quite relatable in the current political climate.
The series uses its episodic nature to also relate to many other themes, from the capitalistic exploitation of minorities, to PTSD, to imperialism. The results of this are generally varying, as some episodes are bound to be better executed than others. Really, the main flaw of Concrete Revolutio, aside from the fact that the plot can sometimes be a bit difficult to follow, is that it seems to try to tackle too many things without then successfully managing to pull them together in one thread, which makes a great part of the series feel a bit scattershot.
While the trick of Concrete Revolution is to willingly confuse the viewer by flashing a multitude of unrelated concepts and plots, in order to replicate the hopeless struggle for truth of its protagonists, some of those plots end up feeling a bit redundant and odd even in that context. While the number of episodes the series got is pretty much perfect (24 episodes divided into 2 seasons), allowing it to drive its points home without overstaying its welcome, it would have been nice if a couple of the most “out there” bits were trimmed, in favour of more exploration of the main characters.
Ultimately, it should be noted that I do not have the historical knowledge to trace any comparison between Concrete Revolutio and the politics of actual post-war Japan, but I can say that the core themes that the series engages with are perfectly relevant and relatable even in the present.
Carried by writing that feels untypically personal for a mainstream anime, Concrete Revolutio is a fittingly harrowing meditation on what it means to try to do good in a world where truth can be easily manipulated and the systems themselves feel broken. While not all of it always work, and the tone can sometimes bounce around a bit too much, it is, in the end, an extremely interesting series that might have flown maybe a bit too much under the radar when it was originally released.
Cool. Good. Watch it.
