{"id":41877,"date":"2024-09-28T16:46:45","date_gmt":"2024-09-28T23:46:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.ourstarblazers.com\/vault\/?p=41877"},"modified":"2026-01-14T22:28:47","modified_gmt":"2026-01-15T06:28:47","slug":"075b","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.ourstarblazers.com\/vault\/075b\/","title":{"rendered":"Chapter 2: Episodes 1-6"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>\n

Ikebukuro Community College Lecture, Part 1<\/h2>\n

July 27, 2019<\/em><\/p>\n

The lecture notes have been significantly expanded. While some of the content overlaps with the discussion at New Chitose Airport, please understand that it has been left intact due to the flow of the discussion.<\/p>\n

What I Saw and Heard at the Production Site: the Impact of Space Battleship Yamato<\/em><\/h3>\n

Since Yamato<\/em> is celebrating the 45th anniversary of its broadcast, I thought I’d commemorate it by providing commentary on every episode. However, rather than delving deeply into the story, I plan to talk about things only I would notice, things generally unknown, as they come to mind. I expect there will be a lot of trivia, but I hope you’ll bear with me.<\/p>\n

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Before getting into each episode, I’ll talk about the overall picture first. <\/p>\n

I visited the Yamato<\/em> production site around November 1974, during its broadcast. I was still a high school sophomore (16 years old). Much of what I saw and heard then came from Mr. Noboru Ishiguro, who was the Chief Director (credited as \u201cDirector\u201d in the opening) at the time. Mr. Ishiguro’s visual techniques and directing approach contained many ideas reminiscent of tokusatsu work; they were stimulating and form the basis of most of my own foundation. He later also took on the title of \u201cTechnical Director,\u201d and it’s clear his work was very close to that of a tokusatsu director. Of course, he also oversaw the entire filmmaking process, including character development.<\/p>\n

I visited the studio in a multi-tenant building in Sakuradai, Nerima Ward, where a bakery called \u201cPeter Pan\u201d was on the first floor. When we first met in the production room, he introduced himself as \u201cIshiguro, the on-site supervisor.\u201d This later became incredibly significant. Initially, I thought it was a joke comparing it to construction work, but I learned later how profound the word \u201csite\u201d truly was. <\/p>\n

Nowadays, security is tighter, and even those writing about anime have fewer chances to get on site, talk to people, or learn specific procedures and ways of thinking. But animation can’t be created without a production site, and visuals don’t just happen on their own. Unless you control every detail frame by frame, you can’t make something good.<\/p>\n

The key is how to leverage specific techniques to control the production. To judge \u201cwhat is possible\u201d and \u201cwhat is impossible\u201d within limited time. Even if \u201cunprecedented imagination\u201d is achieved, a director must know how to integrate it into solid image creation in a system of weekly anime production involving many people. <\/p>\n

Regarding the first Yamato<\/em> series, I believe Noboru Ishiguro’s contribution was significant. It’s not just assisting creation. The process itself is creation.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe idea is tokusatsu\u201d means \u201ca technical mindset in image creation.\u201d Eiji Tsuburaya also called himself a \u201ctokusatsu director,\u201d emphasizing technology. I always say that \u201cwithin anime and tokusatsu culture, technology has played a crucial role.\u201d I’ve worked hard for over twenty years to pinpoint why this culture developed so significantly only in Japan, and to understand its uniqueness. That is one of the answers I’ve found. And from that perspective, \u201canime and tokusatsu\u201d are inseparable.<\/p>\n

We want to know the true nature of what we see. If it were just about story or characters, then novels or manga would suffice. Therefore, something important must lie hidden within the \u201cimage creation\u201d of anime and tokusatsu. Specifically, I want to understand the essence of things like “surprise” or \u201clonging for the unseen.\u201d That motivation was also given to me by Yamato<\/em>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The Keyword is \u201cSense of Wonder\u201d<\/h3>\n

The term \u201csense of wonder\u201d from science-fiction serves as a helpful reference. This \u201cwonder\u201d is closer to \u201cthrill\u201d or \u201cexcitement\u201d than mere “surprise” \u2013 a tingling sensation. It’s that shiver you get when the membrane of fixed notions that has confined you suddenly breaks, revealing something new. It’s different from simple excitement; it’s akin to \u201cseeing the light.\u201d<\/p>\n

Anime is an art form where something \u201cwonderful\u201d is packed into the change from frame to frame, into the void between those frames. If this is formatted well, couldn’t it build a \u201cwonderful\u201d story on a higher layer, one impossible with text or static images?<\/p>\n

A close Japanese equivalent is \u2018tamageru\u2019 (\u201csoul vanishes\u201d). It’s old-fashioned, but the sensation of your soul being sucked into the fiction and vanishing is close to a \u201csense of wonder.\u201d Even knowing it’s fiction, you can’t look away. When reality and unreality swap places, a chemical reaction occurs in the “real” on the next higher layer, making it shine. \u201cThe membrane between reality and illusion\u201d is also an old phrase, but I feel the Japanese truly grasped its essence.<\/p>\n

Thinking along these lines, I believe we can position Space Battleship Yamato<\/em> as a work that achieved a \u201csense of wonder\u201d by thoroughly harnessing and applying the \u201cmagic of film\u201d inherent to anime, thereby breaking free from the constraints of TV anime.<\/p>\n

This magic hinges on shifts in perspective, on leaps in viewpoint and vision. This aligns closely with the crucial phrase attributed to Masahiro Noda: \u201cSF is art.\u201d Though he cited it as \u201ca phrase I heard from a friend,\u201d it seems he was modestly concealing that it was actually his own. The accumulated depictions build up, then suddenly jump. It’s in that pulled-back perspective that the \u201cart\u201d becomes visible.<\/p>\n

For me, Yamato<\/em> is the animation that realized this phenomenon, this sensation cultivated through SF. It’s not \u201cSF because it depicts space\u201d; the methodology and the sensations it evokes are what make it SF. That sensation of the \u201cworldview\u201d \u2013 in its original meaning \u2013 leaping, soaring to a different dimension, was truly irreplaceable.<\/p>\n

If you start scrutinizing the concepts for scientific accuracy and debating whether it’s truly SF, then of course, the work has many shortcomings. But when you find something unique and build upon it, you discover clear, dramatic advantages throughout the work. Despite its immense popularity, there’s a frustrating lack of people discussing it from this perspective, which is why I decided to speak up myself.<\/p>\n

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The Effects and Animation that Color Yamato<\/em><\/h3>\n

The origins of the work are detailed in the book The Madness of Yoshinobu Nishizaki, the Man Who Created Space Battleship Yamato<\/em> (Kodansha), co-authored by non-fiction writer Yasumasa Makimura and producer Tetsuhisa Yamada. An expanded edition is also available as an e-book, so please read it. <\/p>\n

Back in 1975, I heard from staff that \u201cYamato<\/em> was made with money from selling calendars,\u201d but I remained skeptical, wondering, \u201cCould they really be that profitable?\u201d However, this meticulously researched book confirmed it. Beyond that, it clarified many other points \u2013 whether things \u201cwere really true,\u201d \u201cwere that extreme,\u201d or \u201cwere even more incredible\u201d \u2013 making it incredibly valuable.<\/p>\n

At the core of Yamato<\/em>‘s \u201csense of wonder,\u201d that thrilling sensation, lies the presence of \u201ceffects and animation.\u201d This has also become a lifelong research theme for me, but I first learned about it from Mr. Ishiguro. About ten years ago, when we celebrated his recovery [from illness], I told him, \u201cEverything I’ve done is just passing on what I learned from you, Mr. Ishiguro.\u201d It was wonderful.<\/p>\n

Let’s go back to 1975. Director Noboru Ishiguro once told me what inspired him to pursue animation. He asked, \u201cDo you know about effects animation?\u201d When I replied, \u201cNo,\u201d he explained, \u201cIt’s so important that it’s been listed as a specialized profession at Disney for a very long time.\u201d <\/p>\n

When I went to the US in 1987, I found a Disney book called The Illusion of Life.<\/em> Its first edition was published in 1981, but it seems Mr. Ishiguro had been researching similar works even earlier. It’s said that Katsuhiro Otomo referenced it when drawing key animation for his directorial debut, Labyrinth Stories \/ Stop the Construction Order<\/em>. In 2002, under the leadership of director Isao Takahata, it was translated into Japanese and published by Tokuma Shoten as Disney Animation: The Magic of Bringing Life to Characters.<\/em> It’s a book like a bible.<\/p>\n

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<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

That book devotes an enormous amount of space to effects animation; things like fire, water, and lightning. Disney apparently recognized early on that character animation requires a different sensibility, establishing a specialized team to research it. The American DVD of Fantasia<\/em> includes a making-of feature (a re-enactment) showing them breaking glass, sketching bubbles by forcing compressed air through mud instead of lava, and using high-speed cameras. This demonstrates that they created animation based on scientific analysis.<\/p>\n

Mr. Ishiguro mentioned that his favorite Disney film was Sleeping Beauty<\/em>. Created just before the adoption of Xerox technology to reproduce the rough lines of the original drawings, it features stunningly beautiful hand-traced artwork. Furthermore, it was produced in 70mm, making it truly magnificent. Its climax is the effects animation of the dragon breathing fire. I still vividly recall him saying with a smile, \u201cI entered the anime industry because I wanted to make works like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

This period coincided perfectly with my own deepening fascination with kaiju films. My interest began with line-drawn compositing (animation within tokusatsu) like King Ghidorah’s gravitational ray animated by Sadao Hoshikawa, and the underlying consciousness in Yamato<\/em> that \u201cobsessing over effects is fundamental.\u201d I believe it was fateful.<\/p>\n

When it comes to anime and tokusatsu, most people typically discuss them through the lens of literary criticism, focusing on story, drama, historical context, or themes. Placing them on the same level as novels or manga certainly has its value. But even so, is that truly enough? Aren’t we overlooking something crucial? I’ve always questioned why effects and tokusatsu are treated almost like mere toppings on a dish. For me, the visuals themselves are the source of the emotion.<\/p>\n

In recent years, concepts like \u201crepresentation\u201d and \u201cnarrative\u201d have developed further. Does my own interest fit within that framework? That’s an area I’m still studying.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The Challenge of Spectacle-Oriented Visuals<\/h3>\n

I recently learned that producer Yoshinobu Nishizaki came from a prestigious family and had a taste for extravagant, spectacular blockbusters. He favored films like Gone with the Wind, Ben Hur<\/em>, and The Wizard of Oz<\/em>, often referencing them musically too. The opening of Farewell to Yamato<\/em>, where the White Comet approaches at an unimaginable scale, clearly draws from Lawrence of Arabia.<\/em><\/p>\n

I also heard from Yoshikazu Yasuhiko that he favored flashy, impactful visuals. When joining the project, Nishizaki reportedly boasted right off the bat, \u201cCheck this out \u2014 we’re using an optical printer!\u201d showing off visuals that were impossible to achieve with standard cameras. According to Ishiguro’s recollection, the massive operating cost nearly got him fired (Laughs), but he actually loved it. <\/p>\n

When Mr. Yasuhiko submitted storyboards featuring high-difficulty shots like Yamato<\/em> making a 180-degree turn, the upper management reportedly praised it enthusiastically: \u201cGreat! Great!\u201d However, when those storyboards reached the production site, chaos ensued. (Laughs) The schedule was already tight enough, and a Yamato<\/em> turn meant drawing each frame, which was a huge undertaking. That said, this tendency must have been advantageous for Mr. Ishiguro’s visual experiments. <\/p>\n

I believe Yamato<\/em>‘s true achievement lies in its uncompromising dedication to creating visually beautiful animation. Until then, the benchmark for \u201cbeautiful anime visuals\u201d in SF works was Tatsunoko’s Science Ninja Team Gatchaman<\/em>. That is, \u201cartistically excellent\u201d works centered on color and effects (finishing). But Yamato<\/em> represents a \u201cdirty aesthetic,\u201d creating a stark contrast. <\/p>\n

It’s a strange way to put it, but to ground the military depictions in realism, every minute detail \u2014 the sequence of actions, how bullets are loaded, the specific situations where weapons are used \u2014 was meticulously reflected in the work. As a result, the artwork might look messy, and animating complex mecha with many lines over multiple frames increased the risk of mistakes. In fact, the familiar \u201cflyby\u201d sequence suffered from mis-assigned cell numbers, causing a noticeable \u201cjerk\u201d every week for a while. The Yamato<\/em> in the opening also has colors flickering here and there. But in reality, things rarely go smoothly, and these flaws often contribute to a sense of grandeur. They were committed to that overall realism. <\/p>\n

In that environment, Mr. Ishiguro handled the realism through animation techniques or concepts closer to tokusatsu, essentially fulfilling the role of a \u201ctokusatsu director\u201d in a live-action film. From 1979’s Mobile Suit Gundam<\/em> to 1982’s Macross<\/em>, Japanese animation, especially SF works, underwent major changes. The origin of that influence can be traced back to Space Battleship Yamato<\/em>.<\/p>\n

This three-part lecture series, covering all 26 episodes, aims to highlight what made it so remarkable, focusing primarily on its visual aspects.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Advanced Masking Techniques and Screen Compositing<\/h3>\n

Before diving into each episode, I’d like to explain some fundamental information I’ve analyzed from interviews and materials I received at the time.<\/p>\n

Director Noboru Ishiguro’s specialty was with the \u201coptical printer\u201d mentioned earlier. It is a device that achieves compositing on film that can only be exposed once, and is usually installed in a processing lab. It is a machine that “burns light,\u201d and therefore requires a \u201cmask,\u201d a black covering material to prevent exposure. The well-known blue and green screens are techniques for automatically creating that mask during processing in a lab.<\/p>\n

Most of the shots in Yamato<\/em> were composited by cutting masks on celluloid. On the other hand, sometimes the mask is created using special filming techniques and then applied optically. This was called \u201cskip photography,\u201d a technique unlike any other. It was used only three times in Yamato<\/em>. <\/p>\n

The camera stand limits the number of materials that can be moved in any direction, and because the camera is positioned vertically to the plane, it is not possible to shoot the subject and background together while moving them closer or farther away on different axes. Optical compositing breaks through that limitation.<\/p>\n

In the case of Yamato<\/em>, the technique involves processing a background behind the camera work or ripple glass to create motion, then embedding separate animated cels with distinct movements within that background. <\/p>\n

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<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

The first instance of this was in Episode 1, during the shot where the Gamilas fleet approaches while the spacecraft tracks through space. By luck, I obtained just one of these cel materials, revealing something astonishing. When I flipped the cel over, it was completely painted black. This is called \u201cbacking,\u201d meaning the cel itself becomes the material for the compositing mask.<\/p>\n

You light the surface of the cel and shoot one frame. For the next frame, you shoot the same cel with the camera lights off, using backlighting. This way, only the blackened mask appears against the white background. You shoot each frame like this, alternating. That’s why it’s called \u201cskip photography.\u201d This master film is separated for use in the optical printer; the mask frames and the material frames are extracted and made into separate films. For the masks, high-contrast film (the type used for creating captions or subtitles) is employed, and masks with inverted negatives\/positives are also created.<\/p>\n

When these are run through the optical printer, the frame shot under normal lighting and the separately shot background are composited. This allows elements with different axes, trajectories, or shooting processes to be combined into a single scene. Mr. Ishiguro wrote in his autobiography Anime Frontline<\/em> (co-authored with Noriko Obara) that this single filming process resulted in a bill of about two million yen, nearly costing him his job.<\/p>\n

Optical effects scenes appear in only three places across all 26 episodes of Yamato<\/em>. One is where the Gamilas fleet approaches against the backdrop of Pluto. It’s a shame the starry sky superimposition is doubled and obscures the planet, but it shows the vastness of space before the fleet advances.<\/p>\n

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The second is the scene where Captain Okita’s ship frames in on Mars. This composites tracking footage where the ship’s pass and camera work are synchronized. These two are from Episode 1, but the third is the famous shot at the end of Episode 3 where Yamato<\/em> slowly departs Earth.<\/p>\n

The background shows a massive explosion from a direct hit by a giant missile, with a ripple glass technique. Through this shimmering air, Yamato<\/em>, finished with effects brushwork, approaches slowly and quietly toward the viewer. Overcoming such a catastrophe, it advances calmly toward the foreground, creating a sense of emotion. It even conveys the feeling that \u201cSpace Battleship Yamato<\/em> is now setting off for a \u2018world without air\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I’m ashamed to say that this is a feeling I wouldn’t have appreciated had I not seen it in the theater. The slow zoom is so deliberate that you’re moved when you suddenly realize it’s right in front of you. This delicate sensation connects to the emotion. Even the slightly misaligned mask makes it incredibly clear that \u201cthis is not ordinary.\u201d (Laughs) <\/p>\n

In such cases, Toei Animation would typically handle it with Xerox enlargement\/reduction, but the imagery here conveys something entirely different. Therefore, the choice of technique itself imbues the visuals with an aesthetic consciousness. It’s something worth deciphering. <\/p>\n

Now, let’s move into specific episode commentary. This time, I’ll prioritize improvisation, proceeding on the fly without detailed slides or preparation.<\/p>\n

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<\/p>\n

Episode 1<\/h2>\n

SOS Earth!! Revive Space Battleship Yamato<\/em><\/h3>\n

October 6, 1974<\/em><\/p>\n

Regarding the crucial first episode, I was fortunate enough to obtain the working storyboards used by assistant director Susumu Ishizaki. They are top-tier reference material. This episode stands out as special even among the others, and you’ll understand why.<\/p>\n

Even in shots not using optical effects, you can see detailed masks applied throughout, layering multiple exposures. Every shot has notes detailing exactly what processing to apply. It even includes color specifications for missiles and levers that only appear in that specific shot, making it highly valuable as evidence. In a hundred years or so, someone might praise me, saying, \u201cThanks for preserving such incredible reference material.\u201d (Laughs)<\/p>\n

The real highlight lies in the contrast between the visual appearance and the actual production methods. Back in college, I watched a rerun of Episode 1 at Mr. Ishiguro’s house. He remarked, \u201cThey say great films have a scent, and Episode 1 definitely has one.\u201d I’ve pondered what that \u2018scent\u2019 meant ever since. One secret is that \u201cfeeling of something extraordinary conveyed beyond just the visuals.\u201d When that elevates into a \u201csense of wonder,\u201d the audience experiences an emotion beyond words.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Episode 1, Shot 1<\/span><\/p>\n

This is the so-called \u201ctop shot.\u201d It’s an astonishing opening: the \u201cping ping\u201d sound effect, the radar reaction, the spaceship’s meter, and the operator’s back. There’s no narration, no clues for explanation. It prioritizes immersion right from the start. It’s like being strapped to your seat for a movie, so it works. But doing this on TV risks viewers changing the channel. It’s risky. This hemispherical radar is the same type later operated by Yuki Mori on Yamato<\/em>. A similar one appears in the Toho tokusatsu film Gorath<\/em>, and the spacesuits are also similar.<\/p>\n

Theatrical Version Starting with Explanation<\/span><\/p>\n

In the theatrical version released in 1977, after the theme song on a black screen, an explanation of the situation is inserted using footage from the pilot film. The TV series’ first episode is great precisely because it has none of that.<\/p>\n

The Image of the Battle of Pluto<\/span><\/p>\n

While Space Battleship Yamato<\/em> itself projects World War II into the future, this first episode begins with the Russo-Japanese War of the Meiji era and connects it to the Pacific War. This imagery is reminiscent of the 1969 film The Great Battle of the Japan Sea<\/em>, the final work of tokusatsu director Eiji Tsuburaya, which depicted the fierce battle between the Imperial Japanese Navy and the Baltic Fleet. That battle involved ships lined up parallel to each other, engaging in mutual naval gunfire.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Gamilas Ship Main Beam<\/span><\/p>\n

Many assume the fluorescent pink beam is achieved through backlighting, but it’s actually a special effect finished with airbrushing. The original cels still exist, revealing that the unique glow was created by brushing both the front and back of the cel. Front brushing and back brushing, applying the pink glow twice. The difference in thickness \u2014 whether it passes through the cel’s single layer or not \u2014 creates the unique overlapping glow. Brushing from the front makes the paint look dry and powdery, but brushing from the back creates a glossy effect when it shines through the transparent cell. It’s truly masterful craftsmanship. You can see the difference between the front and back on Blu-ray.<\/p>\n

From Impact to Explosion<\/span><\/p>\n

When a Gamilas ship’s beam penetrates armor, the metal melts, creating a crater-like hole. When it reaches the internal combustion engine, the outer shell peels away with a crackling sound, bulges, and then explodes.<\/p>\n

This is a structurally conscious depiction that would later connect to Macross<\/em>. Moreover, since it’s in space, there’s no gravity, so fragments scatter in all directions without falling. However, even in Episode 1, some shots show fragments falling downward. That’s how novel this expression was.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Monitor Display<\/span><\/p>\n

While we now have specialized \u201cmonitor graphics\u201d roles, I believe Yamato<\/em> was the catalyst for their full-scale adoption. This was an era where many works didn’t require precise aiming with a single button press. In this first episode, when the targeting reticle doesn’t lock on, it flashes red; when it locks, it turns blue. This thoroughly human-interface-oriented concept makes perfect sense.<\/p>\n

There was also a shot where red and yellow enemy ships aligned and changed to normal when the aim locked. Among the cels we got from the studio, there was one with a Gamilas ship painted pure yellow. We mistakenly called it a \u201cpainting error\u201d among ourselves. But the mystery was solved during a rerun, and was later pointed out. It was a split-frame cel for exposure reversal. They created three different colored cels from the same animation – red, yellow, and normal – and expressed the difference through filming techniques.<\/p>\n

The \u201cworld within the crosshairs\u201d exists, and switching to reality triggers the phenomenon of \u201cmissile launch.\u201d There was a similar depiction in the Guts Alien episode of Ultra Seven<\/em>, but I think it’s a tokusatsu-oriented concept.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Regarding the Emergency Lights<\/span><\/p>\n

When Okita’s ship takes heavy hits, the bridge switches to red lights. Like submarine emergency lights, red light is used for better visibility. This was achieved by applying red paraffin wax to the black-and-white cels and filming them. Shots were also taken by placing paraffin on the upper layer of the multiplane and partially blurring it, requiring considerable effort. While this technique is widely used in modern digital production, it demanded significant physical labor back then.<\/p>\n

In shots where only the window area remains normal instead of being entirely red-paraffin, a black mask cell was placed over the window section to block the red light from affecting that area. When rewinding and reshooting, the red paraffin was removed. Moreover, the moment an explosion occurs outside and the colors inside the ship change is filmed with precise timing. This creates imagery impossible with conventional filming, clearly distinguishing phenomenae in the space beyond the window from the world inside. Yet, it’s not a complete separation; the light from the external explosion shining through the window also indicates they share the same space. This very concept feels like science-fiction to me, and this layering is what creates that \u201cfeel.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Lighting Effects and Gaze Direction<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLighting effects\u201d also relate to which direction the ship is currently facing or heading, enhancing the sense of presence. Directionality is also expressed through the character’s gaze. Nowadays, characters are often placed facing straight ahead or sideways, with expressions relying heavily on dialogue and explanation, which can be distracting. The gaze in Yamato<\/em> serves to depict a sophisticated worldview. Fundamentally, it adheres to the principle that camera work is about following the gaze. The distinction between the subject’s gaze and the camera’s gaze is skillfully handled.<\/p>\n

Outside the ship is normal, while inside is lit by bright red emergency lights. Crew members sucked out into the airless vacuum of space have their masks cut off in sync with the animation, but the stark difference in their worlds makes it clear they’re unlikely to survive. This ruthlessness is depicted frame by frame.<\/p>\n

The shot where a person is sucked out of the corridor, grabs the handrail, and immediately has the hatch slam shut with a clang — precisely because it seemed like they might survive — heightens the cruelty. As Ishiguro mentions in his autobiography, when he requested additional animation for the handrail-grabbing performance, the animator reportedly scolded him, \u201cI drew it exactly as the storyboard instructed!\u201d He had to beg relentlessly to get it done. The tenacity, including the on-site hardships, comes through implicitly.<\/p>\n

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Earth Defense Force Headquarters<\/span><\/p>\n

The background packed with meters at the entrance appears in two shots. It was incredibly detailed and custom-made.<\/p>\n

When I visited the studio, this large, tall background was stacked in a closet next to the entrance to the directing room. I was amazed by the level of detail in the parts outside the frame. I should have taken a photo. The other custom background, showing Kodai and Shima ascending on an escalator, was in Mr. Ishiguro’s possession. I took the BOOK off and snapped a photo. He grumbled, \u201cWe were supposed to attach the BOOK as a close-up multi-angle to the elevator and slide it, but the filming ended up capturing it together.\u201d<\/p>\n

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Sasha’s Spaceship<\/span><\/p>\n

This scene depicts aerodynamic heating during atmospheric reentry into Mars. The ship crashes into the surface and explodes, a visual effect achieved by Mr. Ishiguro smearing paint with his fingers to capture the texture.<\/p>\n

Crashed Spaceship<\/span><\/p>\n

To achieve the rotating background effect, it was drawn using large-format animation. While the standard size is 100-frame, Yamato<\/em> frequently utilized the maximum size possible on the camera stage: 240-frame. By zooming in to 60-frame for a close-up and then slowly pulling back to 240, a zoom-out effect four times wider and sixteen times larger in area is achieved. This technique conveys the vast scale of space and massive structures.<\/p>\n

Like the final shot of the opening, depicting Yamato<\/em> smaller and slowly pulling back conveys the vastness of space and Yamato<\/em>‘s solitude. The main story also features many such shots, evoking a sense of emotion. The true value of these techniques only became apparent when it became a theatrical film, surprising me with the realization, \u201cSo this is what they were doing.\u201d I believe this is also one aspect of \u201ccinematic direction.\u201d <\/p>\n

I also learned that in other TV productions, even large-format shots might only be around 160-frame. It really shows that the source of Yamato<\/em>‘s grandeur lies in its large format. I wish this sense of scale achieved through generous zooming received more recognition.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Sinking of the Yukikaze<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

When the animation quality regressed, the windows would flicker off and on. When I asked Ishiguro-san, \u201cIs that a spark from the bridge?\u201d he replied, \u201cIt was a painting mistake, but since it looked like that, we just left it.\u201d (Laughs)<\/p>\n

Planet Bomb Craters<\/span><\/p>\n

For every hole, there was a cell with a “male” mask and its inverted “female” mask, lit with backlighting on the camera stage. In other episodes, the positioning and timing would be wildly off, making it incredibly labor-intensive. Back then, we obtained an entire planet bomb cell, but each animation frame used three cells: the planet bomb itself and two black masks. The envelope containing all the cells for the shot was incredibly thick.<\/p>\n

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Planet Bomb Scene<\/span><\/p>\n

The impact site glows with backlighting. This sense of depth is excellent. For years, I wondered why the light diffuses and then suddenly vanishes. Director Hideaki Anno got the answer from Mr. Ishiguro, solving the mystery.<\/p>\n

After the flash from the backlighting, they apparently manually rotated the pin to blur it. And they just roughly did it by hand. The light diffused with the focus out, but the fade out was also done by feel. Director Anno wondered how to recreate this on a timing sheet, but apparently, \u201cit’s precisely because it’s done casually that it looks like a real natural phenomenon.\u201d Director Anno recreated this technique in Episode 6 of Gunbuster<\/em>, for the scene where they ram into Buster Machine No. 3. Upon first seeing it, I immediately thought, \u201cOh! This is the Planet Bomb!\u201d, so it really resonates with those who get it. (Laughs)<\/p>\n

Planet Bomb Recap<\/span><\/p>\n

It’s reused from the pilot episode, but they reshot it and added some extra shots. This idyllic location had the stage direction \u201cPlanet Bomb falls on Moomin Valley\u201d written in the storyboard notes. (Laughs) Keiichi Tanaka recently suggested on Twitter that it might have been drawn as a counter to the rival show Heidi<\/em>. But it’s Moomin Valley. Mushi Pro also produced Moomin<\/em>, connected to Heidi<\/em> through Zuio [Studio], and Noboru Ishiguro participated. <\/p>\n

\n
\n

Episode 2<\/h2>\n

The Opening Shot!! Space Battleship Yamato<\/em> Starts!!<\/h3>\n

October 13, 1974<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Paint Change<\/span><\/p>\n

Episodes 1 through 3 were produced ahead of broadcast, so the paint manufacturer and color tones differ from Episode 4 onward. The most noticeable difference is the green parts of Daisuke Shima’s uniform. I heard Art Director Hachiro Tsukima intentionally added gray tones across the board to lower the overall saturation after Episoe 3. Mr. Tsukima passed away suddenly in an accident just before starting work on Farewell<\/em>, so it was a great loss. The different color tones seen in the sequels and beyond are largely due to differences in the art direction.<\/p>\n

Animation by Tiger Pro<\/span><\/p>\n

For episodes handled by Tiger Pro (Episodes 2, 6, 10, 12, 15, 17, 22, 26), it seems the system involved Director Takeshi Shirato drawing the rough layouts, from which the key drawings (genga) and animation drawings (sakuga) were then created. In Episode 2, the elevator scene and onwards had key animation by Yoshinori Kanada. From the point where the rusted outer shell cracks and Yamato<\/em> emerges until the end, it was handled by Kazuhide Tomonaga from Tiger Pro. Mr. Kaneda seems to have assisted.<\/p>\n

Captain Okita’s Hat<\/span><\/p>\n

The dramatic manga-style touch was present on the hat’s brim in the original artwork, but a surviving note from the animation staff states something like, \u201cThere was an instruction not to include this kind of touch.\u201d In other episodes too, there were instructions to remove the flash effects called \u201cshock\u201d that appear upon impact. While traces of the dramatic manga-style sports anime animation techniques remained at the time, this shows an effort to aim for a slightly more realistic approach.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Meter Movement<\/span><\/p>\n

When the auxiliary engines start, the meters on the panel all show different movements, which is quite surprising. This was a popular talking point back then.<\/p>\n

Peeling Rust<\/span><\/p>\n

When viewed from inside the first bridge, Kodai’s face is reflected, and the animation details depict the rust peeling away. That kind of meticulousness is very striking.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Yamato<\/em> Activation<\/span><\/p>\n

Reused from the pilot version. That’s why Yamato<\/em>‘s form differs, with the Wave-Motion Gun’s tip appearing sharply tapered. The pilot version used a bright, light blue-ish color called \u201cYamato<\/em> color.\u201d To avoid clashing with the main film’s grayer tones, a \u201cblue filter\u201d was applied, slightly altering the earth tones. After the fine rock fragments scatter, you can clearly see them lying on the ground in the movie trailer (above right), which was thrilling.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Number of Windows in the First Bridge<\/span><\/p>\n

From the inside, there are five, but in full views of the exterior, it’s often four. That’s because the setting is designed that way. Back then, when I innocently asked Mr. Ishiguro, \u201cWhy does it sometimes have four and sometimes five?\u201d he was surprised, saying, \u201cReally?\u201d So maybe he hadn’t noticed either. During the period of high economic growth, there were “ghost chimneys” whose number changed depending on where you looked, and fans often joked that it might be that.<\/p>\n

Gauges<\/span><\/p>\n

The image within the large video panel has a ripple glass effect, making it shimmer. The white grid is fixed, requiring a super process. Super process is short for superimposition, a technique where film is overwritten at 100% exposure, similar to subtitles. Otherwise, the grid would wobble too. There were more shots filmed multiple times than you might think.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Number of In-between Frames<\/span><\/p>\n

There’s a keyframe showing the main gun rotating, but while the key animator specified \u201c5 in-between frames,\u201d the director crossed it out and increased the animation count to \u201c7 in-between frames.\u201d The sluggish, dragging motion of mechanical parts often seems due to changes in the timing sheet. Primary materials also show efforts to \u201cmove large, heavy objects slowly.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kodai and the Sighting Device<\/span><\/p>\n

A gauge is in the foreground, and the projected enemy silhouette has a ripple glass effect to show shaking and aim. This was quite a tedious shot. They probably shot it in three layers: first, masked and shot only the wavy glass effect on the middle part, then superimposed just the gauge. Notes discussing this shot with the director still exist.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Large Format Animation<\/span><\/p>\n

The shot pulling the camera way back during Yamato<\/em>‘s main gun firing moment is a large format 240-frame. I borrowed it from Mr. Ishiguro and published it in one of the Yamato<\/em> features in OUT<\/em> magazine (Sept 1977 issue). The film doesn’t show the full pull-back, so I hope the cel still exists somewhere.<\/p>\n

\n
\n

Episode 3<\/h2>\n

Yamato<\/em> Launches!! The Challenge of 296,000 Light-Years!!<\/h3>\n

October 20, 1974<\/em><\/p>\n

Solo Storyboard by Noboru Ishiguro <\/span><\/p>\n

This episode features storyboards drawn entirely by Ishiguro. I confirmed this with him personally. He meticulously verified such details. Hideaki Ito reflected this in the DVD credits, and it’s now listed as such on Wikipedia.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Super-Giant Missile (Interplanetary Ballistic Missile) Launch<\/span><\/p>\n

This references footage of the Saturn V<\/em> rocket launch from the Apollo program. Another film referenced is The Battle of Britain. Star Wars<\/em> also referenced WWII aerial combat footage edited by George Lucas, so there seems to be a common thread there.<\/p>\n

Asteroid Bike (Astro Bike) Assembly<\/span><\/p>\n

The scene featuring Sanada explaining the ship’s automated factory. The cels for this scene still exist in their original bags. The animation includes all the necessary elements: cutting machines not specified in the design documents, molding machines, etc. <\/p>\n

Since this, the balloon dummy, and the cockpit of the Gamilas fighters (in the Rainbow Star Cluster battle) weren’t pre-designed, and were drawn directly for each shot, we collected the original animation cels and preserved them as quasi-design references. I’m surprised myself that even back then, our approach was to make it usable as “future reference material,\u201d rather than just collecting it. Since the astro bike itself had storyboards attached to the design, it seems they based the design on that.<\/p>\n

Unexpected Voice Actor<\/span><\/p>\n

Since Shun Yashiro only participated this time, you suddenly hear the [Japanese] voice of Tom from Tom and Jerry<\/em> among the mob, and it’s a shock. (Laughs)<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Interplanetary Ballistic Missile Approaching Earth<\/span><\/p>\n

They added lots of in-between frames to the rotation and moved it slowly. It’s a prime example of \u201cslowing things down in animation is suicide.\u201d When Earth detects it, a color trace shows the predicted impact zone centered on Earth. This very concept of predicting the impact point felt new even in the \u201cTV manga” era. Nowadays, we might overlook it as commonplace. <\/p>\n

My father worked in computers back then, and I watched NHK programming courses and went through training at a vocational school. It reminds me of the era after the 1970 Osaka Expo, when computer-based predictions and simulations were gaining attention and becoming mainstream. These kinds of meaningful depictions also became less prominent in later works.<\/p>\n

Wave-Motion Engine Activation<\/span><\/p>\n

The highlight of this episode is that the engine doesn’t fire on the first try. Shima inspects it and finds the mistake. That’s what makes it good. They restart the engine, but it falls silent again. This pause is crucial. Kodai panics. The characterization is distinct, which is great. It’s a drama about a diverse crew operating a massive mechanism. I think it was groundbreaking.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Yamato<\/em> Launch<\/span><\/p>\n

This is one of my favorite shots, also featured in the movie trailer. It captures the Third Bridge from directly below, twisting as it ascends, depicted in motion. Rock fragments scatter, and the depiction itself builds excitement. If it had shown just a little more, right up to Yamato<\/em> pulling away completely, it would have been perfect.<\/p>\n

Super-Giant Missile Explosion<\/span><\/p>\n

If it hits the Yamato<\/em> directly, that’s definitely bad. The suspense lies in whether the main guns can intercept it in time. The main guns are shock cannons, and when they fire, smoke, flames, and shockwaves completely fill the screen, obscuring everything. It’s incredible. While anime typically strives to depict things clearly so viewers can understand, this introduced a new documentary-style concept: sometimes, phenomena beyond imagination can’t be fully captured by the camera. It was a pioneer in shifting Japanese anime toward prioritizing realism.<\/p>\n

\n
\n

Episode 4<\/h2>\n

The Astonishing World!! Yamato<\/em> Leaps Past Light<\/h3>\n

October 27, 1974<\/em><\/p>\n

Animation<\/span><\/p>\n

Handled by a production studio called studio J.A. They were reportedly responsible for the anime documentary The Road to Munich<\/em><\/a>, and this was their only episode. Takeshi Shiroto served solely as animation director.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Carrier Aircraft<\/span><\/p>\n

Only one of Yamato<\/em>‘s carrier aircraft, the one piloted by Kodai, is a Cosmo Zero. The rest are Black Tigers, but this setting isn’t consistent. When they launch, all aircraft are Black Tigers, yet when they return, they mysteriously transform into Cosmo Zeros.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Yamamoto<\/span><\/p>\n

What I recall is when Yoshinobu Nishizaki said during the theatrical release, \u201cYamamoto’s pretty popular, huh?\u201d the entire fan club burst out laughing. Yamamoto’s craft was hit, creating suspense in Episode 4 about whether he’d make the warp jump. But the character design without his helmet was cool, making him a topic among the girls. Later, in Yamato 2199<\/em>, he evolved into a female character like Starbuck from Battlestar Galactica<\/em>. It’s a great example of fans finding enjoyment by deeply reading into the work, which then fed back into the production itself.<\/p>\n

Time Suspense<\/span><\/p>\n

There is a 7-segment digital display. Digital watches weren’t common yet, and calculators were still rare, so this was an advanced representation. Rediscovering these elements we might overlook as commonplace today is crucial in research.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Wandering Missile<\/span><\/p>\n

The highlight this time is Yamato<\/em>‘s warp, but the shot of the homing missile losing its target and drifting through space is great. It was achieved using a filming technique called \u201cerasure.\u201d The missile’s trajectory, drawn on the cel, was scratched off with paint scrapers, then filmed in reverse (one frame at a time as more was scratched off). The concept that the tracking device becomes useless once it loses lock-on is brilliant.<\/p>\n

Yuki Mori’s Nudity<\/span><\/p>\n

Above all, the adult concept of \u201cclothes disappearing during warp\u201d is amazing. (Laughs) The original storyboard and revised storyboard where Mr. Ishiguro specified the order of clothes disappearing still exist.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

BANK Appears<\/span><\/p>\n

Kaoru Izumiguchi, equivalent to the mecha animation director, depicts Yamato<\/em> approaching from the upper right and passing by. This is classified as a BANK (stock shot), which appears many times later in the series. It becomes fully established from the next episode, Episode 5, but it was glimpsed briefly in Episode 4 as well.<\/p>\n

Only the latter half of the existing cels remains. Back in 1983, someone had the first half, and both were published in a Roman Album. Since there should be around 250 animation frames, the first and second halves might have been animated by different studios. The final frames of Yamato<\/em> landing on Mars near the end is part of the BANK. This episode’s key frames aren’t clearly visible due to editing, but it appears properly at the beginning of Episode 5.<\/p>\n

\n
\n

Episode 5<\/h2>\n

Escape from the Floating Continent!! Crisis Calls the Wave-Motion Gun<\/h3>\n

November 3, 1974<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Complete BANK Passage<\/span><\/p>\n

Episode 5 is synonymous with the Wave-Motion Gun. The BANK Yamato<\/em> flyby is also complete. However, when it gets extremely close in the foreground, it comes to a complete stop at the hull section. Since Yamato<\/em> is huge, this might be how it looks if the camera gets too close, but it seems odd for it to freeze. This long static insert also supports the hypothesis that the animation was split between the first and second halves.<\/p>\n

Studio Mates Episode<\/span><\/p>\n

Episode 4 wasn’t a Tiger Pro episode, yet the animation director was still Takeshi Shirato. Episode 5 was handled by Studio Mates, led by Kenzo Koizumi, but for some reason, Toyoo Ashida from the Office Academy in-house team was the animation director. The staff rotation wasn’t fully set yet. Koizumi did the key animation, and Ashida did the touch-ups, resulting in a hybrid-feeling episode.<\/p>\n

Handsome Man Order<\/span><\/p>\n

That’s the proper term. (Laughs) I believe there was also a request for it to make him look \u201clike a Host Club,\u201d and the line \u201cOpen all silos!\u201d was meant to sound feminine. The setting was by Ashida, voiced by Masato Ibu (then known as Masayuki Ibu).<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Boob Radar<\/span><\/p>\n

Yuki Mori’s radar was called that at the site. Regular radar spins its antenna to capture targets in 2D, but this was a 3D capture concept. It tracks in space, not just on a flat plane. It became two units in Farewell<\/em> thanks to Noboru Ishiguro’s idea, making it even more of a \u201cBoob Radar.\u201d Though thinking of it as capturing the upper and lower hemispheres to form a full sphere is actually logical.<\/p>\n

Wave-Motion Gun Firing Sequence<\/span><\/p>\n

The procedure and roll call for firing the Wave-Motion Gun are the highlight this time. \u201cVisual cross-gauge, brightness 20!\u201d remained at 20 in later works too. This was likely because the ship was blacked out, so it was darker. You can’t see brightness 20 in a bright place, right? Something that always worries me: when everyone puts on sunglasses for anti-glare protection, Analyzer should have had a shutter closing over its hood, but it just shows the meters blinking.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Wave-Motion Gun Firing<\/span><\/p>\n

A spectacular filming error. The camera should have followed the jet of light, but Yamato<\/em>‘s cel remains visible. In the theater version, they cut just before the mistake.<\/p>\n

First Bridge Ceiling Meter<\/span><\/p>\n

When the film version was showing in theaters, I visited many different theaters to check projection conditions. That meter up there would sometimes be visible, sometimes not. Even in the Rainbow Star Cluster, during long shots of enemy craft flying in formation, their silhouettes would sometimes disappear. It seems theaters were arbitrarily setting the framing. That’s probably also why the DVD was released in Vista size. Brightness shortens lamp life, so projectionists arbitrarily set brightness levels, leading to color differences too. My repeated viewings led to many discoveries.<\/p>\n

Ibu’s Narration<\/span><\/p>\n

For these two episodes only, it’s Mr. Ibu narrating, not Akira Kimura. The atmosphere is slightly different.<\/p>\n

Ending<\/span><\/p>\n

The art direction is by Mukuo Takamura, and the cinematography is by Hirotaka Takahashi, surprisingly done by some of the more talented people who would later appear in the series.<\/p>\n

\n
\n

Episode 6<\/h2>\n

Space Destroyer Yukikaze<\/em> Sleeps on the Ice Field!<\/h3>\n

November 10, 1974<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Yoshikazu Yasuhiko’s Storyboards<\/span><\/p>\n

Episode 6 marks Yasuhiko’s first storyboard contribution. According to him, when he drew meter gauges resembling octopus suckers in the upper part of the top shot during the pan-down sequence, Producer Nishizaki praised him, saying, \u201cYou really pay attention to the designs.\u201d From then on, he was favored, and Yasuhiko handled storyboards for about half the episodes. He continued as storyboard artist even after Farewell.<\/em><\/p>\n

Gamilas Tanks<\/span><\/p>\n

They’re great, aren’t they? I was disappointed that they didn’t release a large plastic model kit for 2199<\/em>. Originally, the plan for Episode 1’s climax was that Gamilas would transport tanks via a disc-shaped mothership to scout the battleship Yamato<\/em>, and Kodai and Shima would eliminate them with grenades. The storyboards were even drawn up for this. That was the original purpose of the concept. <\/p>\n

Since Tomonori Kogawa, who handled the animation, is strong in military details, a recoil is depicted when the cannon fires. Small arms for anti-personnel use are also mounted, and when they fire at Kodai, ice pillars form where the bullets hit the ground \u2013 the depiction is meticulous.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Kodai’s Catchphrase<\/span><\/p>\n

When Kodai shoots down a Gamilas soldier, he says, \u201cDon’t take it personally.\u201d In the Pluto scene of Episode 8, he also tells the indigenous life forms, \u201cDon’t take it personally.\u201d Is this a catchphrase? In the American version of Episode 6, this was changed to Kodai muttering to himself, \u201cIt’s a robot tank, but I destroyed its control system,\u201d removing the killing.<\/p>\n

Language System<\/span><\/p>\n

Gamilas soldiers speak Japanese among themselves. However, when they exit the tank and speak with Yamato<\/em> crew members, they switch to Gamilas language. A similar scene appeared in Ashita no Joe 2<\/em> (1980), which was highly acclaimed, but this one predates it significantly. There might be a common source film.<\/p>\n

Gamilas Language<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTsubakansaruma\u201d is the reverse reading of \u201c\u25cb\u25b3x\u201d (circle, triangle, cross \/ Maru Sankaku Batsu) written in the voice recording script. Looking at Tomonaga’s original artwork, when the soldier gets knocked down, his face looks like Lupin III’s, but unfortunately, it was revised. The storyboard had Yasuhiko’s stage direction: \u201cIf you hit, you get hit…\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The Invincible Analyzer<\/span><\/p>\n

What impressed me upon rewatching this episode was how many standout moments Analyzer gets. The track-up after the pan-down is a 240-frame wide shot, hand-drawn. It was a shot where the key, in-between, and cels were all present when I obtained them, but the background was in such rough shape I had to reluctantly discard it.<\/p>\n

Gamilas Grip Gun<\/span><\/p>\n

This is brilliant sci-fi design. The T-shaped grip holds the barrel between the middle and ring fingers, with the trigger pressed at the base of the thumb. It’s the idea that aliens evolved differently, so their tools are entirely distinct, a concept foreshadowing later works like Royal Space Force<\/em>. Though it becomes a standard gun later, the original keyframe had the grip wrong, which is tricky to get right.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Brother’s Cosmo Gun<\/span><\/p>\n

It can’t be used if frozen solid, right? But drama takes priority. Since it’s modeled after the Nanbu Type 14 pistol, it’s drawn in that style.<\/p>\n

Flashback scene<\/span><\/p>\n

In Episode 1, a crewmember of Okita’s ship shouts, \u201cCaptain, Kodai’s ship isn’t following!\u201d Since this is a dual role by Kei Tomiyama, when I watched it with friends, someone quipped, \u201cYou’re Kodai, right?\u201d and we all burst out laughing.<\/p>\n

Mecha Storyboards<\/span><\/p>\n

Separate from the main storyboards, \u201cmecha storyboards\u201d were created. Even the usual BANK shot flyby was drawn using these. This final shot is one example: Yamato<\/em> is perfectly centered in the frame, flying in from above toward the foreground. The captain’s room approaches the foreground, and Captain Okita is glimpsed briefly. It’s quite well-drawn, but for some reason, it wasn’t used again until Episode 25. Since Captain Okita was bedridden due to illness, he was removed and the animation was redone. This means the complete version can only be seen in this episode.<\/p>\n

<\/br><\/p>\n

Continue to Chapter 3: commentary on episodes 7-15<\/a><\/p>\n

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