Innocence delves deeper into the surreal elements compared to the original film, exploring Motoko Kusanagi's internal conflict and her struggle to understand herself. The central question about identity is revisited, with Motoko's former partner, Batou, revealing the aftermath of her merging with the PuppetMaster A.I.
Visually, Innocence is acclaimed for its stunning animation, seamlessly blending traditional 2D with 3D CGI. What particularly captivates me is not only the integration of these animation styles but also how they contribute to the immersive cyberpunk setting. This approach aligns with the original manga, which incorporates 3D visuals of the net and cyberspace, creating a ludonarrative aspect that enhances storytelling.
The incorporation of newer technology like 3D into a narrative about the advancement and integration of technology in society is apt. It presents a surreal perspective on the frightening concept of Ghost-Hacking, providing a third-person viewpoint. Instead of witnessing the aftermath, the audience is thrust into a labyrinthine, existential loop, challenging perceptions and blurring the lines between reality and artificial experiences.
Early portrayals of Tokyo in Innocence feature a CGI parade, merging remnants of traditional animation with new CGI technology. This juxtaposition blurs the distinction between what is real and what isn't, reflecting the film's depiction of a grounded reality where cyborg bodies are mundane.
The seamless meshing of 2D and 3D animation in Innocence sets it apart from the original 1995 film. While the original film possesses a certain charm with its lived-in feeling and analog cell animation, it can, at times, feel anachronistic when compared to the cyberpunk reality it aims to portray. The hand-drawn animation, while iconic and fitting for its time, doesn't fully capture the futuristic, technologically advanced world that Ghost in the Shell envisions. The transition to full 3D animation in SAC: 2045, in that regard, feels like a logical progression, aligning more closely with the narrative themes of technology integration explored in Ghost in the Shell. This shift allows for a more immersive and visually advanced representation of the complex and ever-evolving relationship between humanity and technology.
Batou's arc in the film revolves around the same existential question that plagued Motoko. After the revelation of a potential ghost line inside an android, Batou expresses frustration and confusion about Motoko's struggle. Their contrasting attitudes toward the merging of cybernetic enhancements with human consciousness emphasize the depth of their character dynamics.
When Motoko questions the proof of Batou's existence, his dismissive response reflects his practical, less contemplative perspective. This highlights the contrast in their attitudes toward the merging of cybernetic enhancements with human consciousness. The loss of Motoko leaves Batou shaken, leading him to adopt Gabriel the Basset Hound, echoing themes of empathy found in science fiction novels like "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep" and how empathy is the distinguishing factor between humans and androids.
In the original film, Batou was a more expressive and human character than the Major. This duality flows into Innocence, evident not only through consistent direction but also in the main plot involving sex dolls. The film explores Motoko's evolution by suggesting that the dolls may represent a new form of sentience emerging from the sea of information, akin to the PuppetMaster's consciousness, similar to Motoko's evolution.
Overall, Innocence's captivating visual style, seamless animation blending, and exploration of existential themes contribute to its distinction from the original film and its meaningful impact on the cyberpunk genre. In many ways, it strokes a more existential nerve than the original did with more intimate encounters with these ideas in a first-person perspective, allowing the viewer to feel the same dread as the characters.
If I had to make one critique, the references often made to various philosophical ideas throughout the film, while in line with the themes and not simply added for the sake of attempting to pretentiously seem deep, commit a different problem where it begins to be egregiously used and starkly points out the philosophical ideas present in the film in a fashion that is obvious.
The dialogue, as a result, can seem strange or awkward and sometimes distracts a person soaking in the ideas through osmosis rather than having the film throw a book reference at them like they're in Introduction to Philosophy 101. It's a minor enough issue for me and doesn't crop up all too much. In the context of the universe, I find it to simply be the manner in which many of the characters are attempting to understand and wrap their heads around these issues through citing different literature and philosophy