Then came Katsuhiro Ôtomo's Steamboy (2004), which recently found its way to the top of my Netflix queue. (My wife has expressed a relatively strong interest in anime, so I recently started populating the queue with such fare.) When it arrived, I wasn't sure whether I wanted to partake — would I be disappointed, as I was with Howl's Moving Castle? However, I read the blurb, thought that the movie at least had an interesting premise, and decided to give it a go (after all, I already had paid for the Netflix subscription).

What Steamboy delivered was nothing less than stunning. The plot centers on Ray Steam, a precocious kid in 19th-Century England, who spends his free time tinkering in a workshop and inventing all sorts of gadgets and gizmos. Near the beginning of the story, he receives a package from his grandfather, an engineer stationed in Alaska; the package contains a spherical object about the size of a bowling ball, as well as a note instructing Ray to keep said object away from the O'Hara Foundation, the entity sponsoring his grandfather's recent research. We later learn that the sphere is a vital component of a much larger device designed to provide massive amounts of energy (making Steamboy highly relevant to our own day). Of course, the arrival of the sphere makes Ray's life complicated: he gets chased by agents of the foundation (who obviously want their device back); he learns that the foundation's aim of finding a convenient and powerful source of energy is clouded by the other, less-savory parts of its mission (arms dealing); and he also participates in lots of cool action sequences, which, admittedly, make up the movie's strongest qualities.

Steamboy's message is relatively simple: science should be used for the good of humanity. However, its presentation of this message isn't terribly coherent, and we are left wondering how, exactly, science should accomplish its lofty mission. Ray's grandfather is the most strident proponent of the humanitarian perspective, and he takes a hard-line, purist approach: even though the convenient and efficient provision of energy is good, it should not be associated in any way with profit or militarism. (Thus, since the O'Hara Foundation manufactures and distributes arms, Ray's grandfather wants to keep the sphere out of the hands of his former sponsors.) Linking profit with militarism, however, is both unfair and simplistic (after all, one doesn't need to sell arms in order to make money), and Ray's grandfather doesn't seem to appreciate the profit motive that fuels many scientific innovations.

Other characters in the movie differ with the profit-hating engineer, but their positions are not presented in a coherent fashion. For example, Ray's father is a proponent of the foundation's goals, but he really doesn't explain his position well; relative to Ray's grandfather, his father comes across as an unthinking brute, mindlessly obsessed with the potential of Science to create and unleash pure Power. I suppose that the grandfather's views (or "emotional perspective") merely reflect Ôtomo's, so it would make sense for the director to present an alternate perspective in a negative light.

In any case, all of this talk about science is peripheral because Steamboy's strengths do not lie in its themes but rather, in its aesthetics. Relative to Spirited Away and Howl's Moving Castle, I found Steamboy's animation sharper, clearer, sleeker. Perhaps that had to do with the latter's focus on science and engineering: Steamboy's visuals are full of interlocking gears, metallic textures and colors, and, of course, lots and lots of steam (this is 19th-Century England, after all). Steamboy doesn't dwell in rural environments or pre-modern settings; it is a wholly modern, industrial film. Even as Ôtomo criticizes the misuse of science, he does not question the material (and aesthetic) value of technology.

(Some viewers may note that because Steamboy employs so much metal and machinery in its animation, it has a stereotypically masculine feel. One even may note that its main female character, heir to the O'Hara Foundation, is presented very poorly: while the men are busy Taking Action and Solving Problems, she serves as comic relief, running around and complaining about silly minutiae. Is Steamboy gendered? Absolutely. However, is it downright sexist? At first, I would have been willing to buy that argument, but the image montage at the end, accompanying the closing credits and providing a glimpse into the characters' futures, suggests that the spoiled girl matures into a take-action woman with her own sense of agency.)

Finally, besides the crisp animation and fun action sequences, Steamboy's high quality stems from its realism. This idea may surprise some, since anime often evokes images of the fantastic (or at least of the far, far future) among the general public. Yet, if one looks closely at Steamboy's aesthetic, we see Ôtomo pushing the edges of possibility, but not making that final jump (fall?) into fantasy. Sure, the movie is unrealistic in the sense that the 19th Century did not witness the mammoth, sophisticated devices on display in Ray Steam's England; however, the movie's machines still look and operate like machines, with their gears, pipes, bolts, etc. Ôtomo's brilliant creative vision lies not in forsaking material reality, but in pushing its boundaries to new limits. (It should go without saying that my appreciation of Steamboy's aesthetics represents a subjective preference. I am not suggesting that this site resuscitate its debate on the fantasy genre.)

In short, I finally have found an anime film that I not only can tolerate but absolutely enjoy. Rent it today!