Akira ★★★★★
In 1988, Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira exploded onto the screen, leaving a crater-sized impact on the world of animation—and likely a fair few viewers’ minds. Set in a post-apocalyptic Neo-Tokyo, this film has everything you never knew you wanted: political corruption, street gang warfare, and telekinetic meltdowns that turn your average punk into a pulsating flesh monster. Oh, and did I mention it’s animated in painstaking, hand-drawn glory? Every frame feels like it’s sweating under the weight of its own dystopian intensity.
Akira takes place in 2019 (yes, it was the future once), where Neo-Tokyo rises from the ashes of nuclear devastation. The city is not just teetering on the edge of collapse, it’s doing a full-on pirouette over it—violent protests, gang wars, and a government trying to hush up a top-secret psychic experiment that could destroy what little remains. The plot follows Kaneda, the charismatic leader of a biker gang, and his troubled friend Tetsuo, who unwittingly gains psychic powers thanks to one of those government projects. You can probably guess how well that goes. Spoiler: not great.
Beneath its sci-fi sheen and gratuitous explosions, Akira wrestles with weighty themes—what happens when unchecked power meets adolescent rage, for one. Tetsuo’s transformation from fragile sidekick to out-of-control super-being is a metaphor for every teenager’s darkest fear: being overwhelmed by forces they can’t control (you know, like puberty, but with more lasers). On a larger scale, the film explores post-war anxieties, especially Japan’s lingering trauma from WWII and its ambivalence about nuclear power.
The visual style of Akira is like someone poured the whole cyberpunk genre into a blender, hit ‘frappe,’ and then fed it amphetamines. Otomo’s direction, paired with the intricate animation, creates a city that feels alive, vibrating with neon and grime. The infamous motorcycle chase through the streets of Neo-Tokyo is kinetic art, a dance of lights and motion so captivating you’ll forget to blink. Meanwhile, the film’s apocalyptic climax—with Tetsuo morphing into a grotesque, blob-like creature—remains one of the most unforgettable sequences in cinematic history. It’s body horror with an existential twist, and the animation team must’ve developed psychic powers of their own to pull it off.
Kaneda and Tetsuo’s fraught friendship anchors the film, with Kaneda’s swagger and Tetsuo’s insecurity making for a volatile mix. Nozomu Sasaki’s voice work as Tetsuo is especially impressive, capturing the character’s descent from vulnerability into madness. The supporting characters—like the Espers (freaky psychic kids) and the weary Colonel Shikishima—are well-drawn, though their motivations can sometimes feel more symbolic than deeply personal. But in a movie like Akira, that’s almost the point. These characters are less people and more cogs in a massive machine of fate .
At just over two hours, Akira packs in a lot—perhaps a little too much. The story sometimes feels like it’s sprinting through its own narrative, barely pausing to explain itself before zooming off to the next explosion. That’s partly due to Otomo condensing his sprawling six-volume manga into a single feature film, which leaves a few loose threads dangling. But even when the plot gets tangled, the sheer energy of the movie drags you along, leaving you breathless but satisfied.
If you’ve ever felt like the world is spinning out of control, Akira is your cinematic spirit animal. Watching Tetsuo’s psychic meltdown while Neo-Tokyo literally crumbles around him feels strangely therapeutic—like someone took the chaos inside your head and painted it in fluorescent hues on the big screen. For anyone who’s ever felt powerless, Akira offers a terrifying glimpse of what happens when you suddenly gain too much power.
Akira is more than just a movie—it’s a fever dream, a cautionary tale, and a visual masterpiece that has left its mark on everything from The Matrix to Stranger Things. It’s not an easy watch, but it’s the kind of film that stays with you long after the credits roll, like a neon afterimage burned into your retinas. For fans of anime, cyberpunk, or just mind-bending storytelling, it’s essential viewing.
5/5. Just remember, if someone offers you psychic powers, politely decline.
