Akira

Adapted by Katsuhiro Otomo from his sprawling, post-apocalyptic cyberpunk tale of government conspiracies, street gangs, and psychic powers that can save or destroy the world, it's still an all-time classic, and has never looked better.

Directed by Katsuhiro Otomo and based on his cult cartoon, the film is a computer graphics showpiece: best at swooping round structures (skyscrapers) and rotating three- dimensional objects (lots of explosions). But it's the hallucinogenic sequences that tell you why it has become a cult. [03 Feb 1991, p.24]

As befits a distillation of 1,318 pages of the story so far, Akira the film is teeming with incident and detail.

The most expensive animated feature ever made in Japan (over 1 billion yen) and it's easily the most impressive, as well.

Some kind of fever-dream masterpiece, easily the most breathtaking and kinetic anime ever made and one of the most eloquent films about atomic afterclap.

Akira remains the work of a cartoonist, rather than a born animator: Too much of the movie is played out in the static frames of a comic strip, and when movement is used it isn't to define character (as in Disney) or establish a rhythm (as in the Warner cartoons) but simply for its physical impact. Pounding away, it becomes monotonous. [30 Mar 1990, p.D]

Grade-school violence freaks may find a few kicks here, but even they may have trouble coping with this ugly movie’s ending about eight separate times.

Possibly the greatest anime film created for adults. A literal masterpiece of the medium.

"Neo Tokyo is about to explode," boasts the neon-bathed artwork for this cornerstone of anime, and that's true on so many levels. Three decades removed from the megaton blast that annihilated Japan's capital city and sparked a third world war, the physical act of rebuilding is nearly complete, but societal wounds are still very raw. As street demonstrations turn violent, politicians line pockets and point fingers, motorcycle gangs rove the highway and the military quietly readies a coup, a secret, pre-war government program loses control of its super-powered test subjects. And, naturally, it's all come to a head at once; a reverberating chorus of disaster that's suddenly reached its apocalyptic crescendo. Akira is every bit as rich, dense and complex as that description sounds. While many of those arching themes are grandiose in nature, essentially wide-angle subject matter, the story itself is quite personal. We get a sense of the big picture as it's suffered by key individuals; a cocky street punk, his omega dog buddy, an out-of-her-depth resistance fighter, a military general and a trio of disfigured, omnipotent children. It's a mysterious film. It does not give easy answers, but the truth is there for those willing to dig. There's just too much going on, too many massive set pieces and tidal shifts, to slow down for the uninitiated. At times, that can make it feel cryptic and inaccessible. In those cases, I'm afraid, the hyperactive pace, towering scale, breathtaking action scenes, striking visual feats and monumental soundtrack cuts will have to suffice. Even if you don't get the ending (which, let's be honest, is way out in space somewhere), the journey to get there is everything. I don't know if this would've been a ten the first time I watched it, way back in the mid '90s, but it would've been in the neighborhood. After soaking it in, over the course of so many years and repeat viewings, it's not even an argument. Akira is one of the most ambitious, and rewarding, animated films ever made. It's a certifiable masterwork. Updated thoughts after a 2025 re-watch: Beneath the cutting-edge animation, rich soundtrack and dense atmosphere, Katsuhiro Otomo’s animated masterpiece portrays a desperate city in conflict with itself. Clouds of warring motorcycle gangs swarm the highways. Scores of abandoned children rot in filthy, state-run institutions. Apocalyptic religious demonstrations share public space with violent political protests. Elected officials puff and posture, making speeches and pointing fingers without hearing or solving anything. And the military operates free of supervision, violently quelling discontent in the streets while scheming to outmaneuver its rivals using a slew of morally-questionable human experiments. Thirty years after a secretive large-scale disaster wiped out much of its population center, Neo Tokyo is once again on the verge of an explosion. The prevailing theme of this multi-faceted story is extreme power in the wrong hands. An emotionally unstable biker punk; a brash, stubborn military commander; an overzealous lead scientist; an opportunistic group of activists; each contributes to a perfect storm of raging discontent and untimely misfortune that might just bring about the end of the world. If that sounds stuffy and impenetrable, don’t worry. We’ll run into plenty of telekinetic dwarves, machine-gunning sky scooters, orbiting space lasers and arena-sized glop monsters between talking points. Not to mislead anyone here: Akira can definitely feel unintelligible. It moves fast, gives us a lot to follow, asks about a thousand ambiguous questions and leaves most of the answers open to interpretation. I’ve probably seen this movie fifty times over the years and still go back and forth over what the ending really means. I love that about it. Likewise, I love its ability to feed me more detail, and further context, after so many viewings. It’s an audiovisual powerhouse, no doubt - even after almost forty years, its artwork resides at or near the top of the pile and its music remains powerful, distinct and thematically perfect - but the reason it’s stuck around for so long, striking chords in generations of open-minded audiences, is that incredible depth of meaning. Every character means something, every softly-tinted flashback enriches the moment and every decisive action compounds the next. This is as well orchestrated as any type of big-picture cinema gets. That it’s also a brilliant, genre-defining example of high end anime is just icing on the cake.

I enjoyed the fact that the movie started really violent and never slowed down, it actually increased the violence every chance it had which is something pretty unique as a story telling tool since there are barely any moments of calm just increasing violence. The animation is superb even by today's standards and some of the action is pretty great but for me personally the story is the weakest thing about this movie and the way it was presented was very broken and not that well connected. It is fine if you just wanna unwind and watch some animated violence but if you are looking for something deeper and more interesting I would suggest checking somewhere else.

A Visionary Cyberpunk Masterpiece: A Stern Warning to a Power-Hungry Japan250415 (2.4)"Wake up, Japan." Set against a backdrop **** and sophisticated cyberpunk Neo Tokyo, the 1988 animation and direction of Akira remain undeniably breathtaking even decades later. However, I found myself wishing the film had focused more on the core message found in the original manga. The story takes place in 2019, thirty years after World War III, where we follow Kaneda and his delinquent biker gang. His childhood friend, Tetsuo, accidentally collides with Number 26—a withered, green-faced child with psychic powers—and is taken by the military to become a test subject. Tetsuo’s latent inferiority complex toward the charismatic Kaneda fuels a dark transformation as he gains god-like telekinetic powers, eventually becoming an unstoppable force of **** film introduces "the Numbers"—Takashi, Masaru, and Kiyoko—children who have aged into elderly forms due to experiments aimed at controlling a power known as "Akira." While the Colonel attempts a coup to seize control of this power, Tetsuo descends into madness, seeking out Akira's remains buried beneath the Olympic stadium. The climax is a chaotic blur of psychic warfare and body horror, where Tetsuo’s body mutates into a grotesque mass that crushes his girlfriend, Kaori. While the movie leaves many plot points unresolved, the underlying symbolism is profound. Akira and the Numbers represent the destructive military force and nuclear power that Japan once coveted. The film serves as a critique of a leadership class—personified by the Colonel—that refuses to learn from the ruins of the past and remains obsessed with weaponizing "divine power." Even the date of Tokyo’s initial destruction mirrors historical nuclear attacks. Though the film sacrifices some narrative clarity for visual spectacle, its warning against returning to a state of warmongering madness remains powerful. "I am Tetsuo"—the final line suggests that this force hasn't vanished but merely shifted into a new universe, leaving us to decide which future we will choose to build from the ruins.

[SPOILER ALERT: This review contains spoilers.]