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Reviewed by Michael Aronson I had my doubts, I really did. I wasn’t sure that Tezuka’s most brutal, sadistic and sexually explicit work was going to amount to much more than a handful of nice ideas framed around shocking content. Not only that, but the premise of the story – a boy named Shogo with an extreme aversion to gestures of love is forced to endure a tragic love with one woman over and over – seemed less than inspired in an era of Groundhog Days and Eternal Sunshines (despite Apollo Song’s original publication date of 1970). But all it took was a handful of words, Shogo’s final line on the fourth-to-last page, to turn the entire story on its ear and rescue it from darkness. I love it when that happens. I still wouldn’t go so far as to say that Apollo’s Song is among my favorite Tezuka works, but it’s hard to find much fault. The opening is a clever interpretation of the process of reproduction, both a little funny and a little saddening in its extreme depiction of sperm as millions of naked male warriors. This scene is also spectacularly detailed, as are quite a number of dramatic splash pages, most notably a striking sunset. Artistically, Tezuka has reached his peak at this point with a trinity of wonderful emotive expressions and poses, brilliant designs for characters and landscapes, and those aforementioned detailed splash pages. The cover alone is evidence that you can crop any images from the interiors and arrange it in any fashion (although Chip Kidd’s involvement certain didn’t hurt) and the art will still jump out at you. Part of me is still a little cool to the story, which is essentially made up of various shorter stories connected by an overarching thread. Each miniature story is strong in and of itself, though some benefit from the overarching continuity more than others. Honestly, I wished there was more connectivity between stories and more impact from one to the next, but the ending does justify why this wasn’t necessary. The penultimate segment, entitled Queen Sigma, takes place in a future setting not unlike those in Tezuka’s Phoenix series. It’s the strongest bit, and while the linking thread is subtle, it falls on the story itself to provide a satisfying climax for the entire tale and does so admirably. Queen Sigma ties together all the previous themes and presents a story that plays off Shogo’s misery – on a world in which cloning is possible, can love ever die? And if it can’t, might Shogo finally achieve a happy ending? More than telling a multifaceted story, Apollo’s Song inspires. When the dust settles and the back cover is closed, Tezuka’s intent is laid bare to the reader and it’s a noble one. Shogo doesn’t merely learn a lesson about love and life – he transcends the agony of both. Comment on this review of Apollo’s Song on the Manga Life Forums. |
1 July 2009 |
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