Review: Royal Space Force: The Wings of Honnêamise (1987)




Up next on our little anime film retrospective is one that’s somewhat lesser known, but still stands out somewhat for what it is back then and now. It’s got nothing to do with certain US administrative initiatives, but there’s still a fair bit to talk about with Royal Space Force: The Wings of Ho…Homayonnaise…what it says up there. 


Written and directed by Hiroyuki Yamaga, Royal Space Force was something that could’ve only been made in this period when Japan was awash with yen for investors to throw at whatever sort of project they wanted, as they would not long after with the more famous likes of Akira. It’s two hours long—which for an animated feature is a verifiable epic. And not only that, it’s animated to a pretty high standard for the time—there’s no shortage of gorgeous painted backdrops, some of which you see only for a brief moment and yet look close enough to real as it gets. 


Considering this is well before the advent of digital assistance, from a technical level there’s no denying that no expense was spared. There was also a conscious effort to avoid a lot of typical anime stylings of the time--and I can see that, with a lot of the character design sensibility feeling more French to me than anything. 



What about the plot, you ask? Well, that also ties into the film’s next major feature we’ll get to. It’s set on an entirely alternate version of our world, with different continents and histories and all, with the technology level being roughly around the 1960s. In a kingdom in the midst of Cold War with its rivals, a young man by the name of Shirotsugh Lhadatt is trying to find his place in his nation’s Space Force, an underfunded outfit struggling to get anywhere. A chance encounter with a woman leads Lhadatt to start taking his position more seriously, right as the Space Force finally begins an effort to actually launch a man to space. Of course, it’s not as simple as that, as political and military factions jostle around them, while our hero rubs against superiors, comrades, cantankerous elderly engineers, and eventually foreign assassins. 




Now, that aforementioned feature is that every aspect of the film’s design, no matter how subtle, is to reflect this alternate world—from the currency people use, which is apparently shaped like cylinders, to the fashion, which seems to blend early 20th century Europe with Aztec designs. The aircraft are noticeably different, but still seem workable, while the cities we see blend together everything from Asia to Africa in their feel and architecture. The attention to detail, spread out over two hours, is exquisite, and if nothing else shows the passion that did go into this from the team. It’s the sort of thing where you could rewatch it multiple times just to digest every tiny detail—even with just the glimpses of the ancient mythology and religion created whole cloth for this as well.



There’s no shortage of passion in the themes presented either—which discuss the value of science and developments inspired for the wrong reasons, but whether those reasons truly matter in the wake of history. We have frank looks at how technological endeavours, even nobly inspired, can be hijacked for more cynical interests—and what the individual can strive for in the midst of all this.


Where Royal Space Force perhaps falls a little short is in the characterization—Lhadatt isn’t the most riveting protagonist at the best of times, and there’s one rather jarring moment where the viewer is probably going to struggle to sympathize with him. Though its aftermath is presented as character development for him, let’s just say it feels pretty darn unnecessary at best. 


Still, though it was a flop on release, the artistic spirit that went into Royal Space Force is still present and undeniable—and while it’s not going to grip everyone, there’s definitely something to watch if you enjoy films like the Right Stuff or Arrival, with one very dynamic and large-scale climax on display here. It’s certainly a good an exhibit as any for the prowess of the production studio, a little house called Gainax—and as promised, next time, we look at an example of by far their most famous project…


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