Based on a manga penned by the legendery Osamu Tezuka which was itself inspired by a 1927 Fritz Lang movie, Metropolis is a visually spectacular feature that attempts to take Tezuka’s story and bring it to life using modern techniques in CGI and digital animation. A private investigator named Shunsaku Ban and his nephew Kenichi arrive at the futuristic Metropolis on the trail of Dr Laughton, a researcher who is suspected of human organ trafficking. Their investigation leads them into a complex web of political machinations and power struggles, centred on an enormous building known as the Ziggurat and its power-hungry creator.

Metropolis is, first and foremost, spectacular to watch. Granted, there have been many films in recent years that push the envelope in terms of how CG can render things like cityscapes and mecha designs but this is yet another shining example of how far modern animation has evolved. The most striking thing is how it takes Tezuka’s distinctive 1940s-era designs and places them in the middle of a vibrant, CG-rendered setting: the distinctive character designs that fans have been familiar with for decades move around with remarkable fluidity in a world that would do Masumune Shirow proud. It has to be said that the two contrasting art styles don’t always sit too well together, although it would probably be even worse to see Tezuka’s classic art style undergoing a ‘makeover’ for modern audiences!

The film is unusual in its musical score too. While there are a few moments that have the grandiose, orchestral sound you’d associate with a sci-fi epic, it’s mostly comprised of jaunty jazz numbers – topped off with an emotionally powerful rendition of Ray Charles’ I Can’t Stop Loving You played in the climatic final scene. Although it sounds like a terrible idea in theory, it works surprisingly well in practice because of the film’s overall intention of vividly portraying old ideas. In fact, it looks and sounds like one enormous tribute to Tezuka’s phenomenal influence on the industry: the credits also boast an impressive roll-call of names including Rintaro as director and Katsuhiro Otomo in charge of the screenplay.

Not surprisingly, a lot is going on in Metropolis. The buildings soar into the sky, people and traffic are constantly in motion and the whole place is teeming with life. Thanks to the stunning imagery, it’s easy to get a feel for how immense and multilayered the place is. Otomo’s influence shows through quite a lot in places: the shining cityscape with its dingy and lawless lower reaches is very reminiscent of Akira and there’s that recurrent theme of technology outstripping humanity’s ability to use it responsibly. In fact, there are a lot of familiar themes and ideas in Metropolis, which adds to the nostalgic and 'retro-futuristic' vibe brought about by the character designs, music and other neat little touches such as the comical robots and old cartoon-style ‘iris-wipe’ scene transitions.

From a storytelling perspective though, the film is a bit of a mess. There are a number of subplots playing out during its course which aren’t difficult to follow on their own but present a common problem of stand-alone features: it’s hard to give each aspect the attention it deserves without detracting from the significance of the others. There’s a coup d’état threatening to overthrow the government, Duke Red’s plans for the Ziggurat and the robot girl Tima, not to mention a budding romance between her and Kenichi too – a second viewing helps but ultimately the film’s writers have tried to fit more into the narrative than it is able to contain.

Fortunately the characters are interesting and engaging, which makes them a pretty memorable bunch (even more so since they look like they’ve walked out of an episode of Astro Boy!). Duke Red is the typical megalomaniac bad guy (sadly there's no time to explain his background more fully) but his adopted son Rock comes across as more complex: his violent actions are not motivated by greed and power, but by a burning desire for love and respect from a man who would rather have a robotic replacement for a child he had lost.

In Summary

Considering the film’s pedigree Metropolis ends up being slightly less than the sum of its parts and disappointly struggles under the weight of its own ambitions. On the plus side it is a beautifully realised homage to one of the industry’s biggest names: the world Tezuka envisioned is brought to the screen in such a rich and lively way that, for all its quirks and flaws, it can’t fail to entertain.