Please sing the first passage of this article to the tune of Les Misérables’ “I Dreamed a Dream” for maximum effect:
There was a time when titans were new,
And their motives unclear,
And their faces terrifying.
There was a time when Levi ruled,
And the war felt so wrong,
And Eren was not so annoying.
There was a time
…then it all…. went… wrong…
Okay, but I mean it. I doubt I am the only millennial otaku who remembers exactly where they were when the first episode of Wit Studio’s Attack on Titan aired in the spring of 2013. I was living in Taipei, lying on my futon in my tiny Japanese-style room after a long day of teaching ESL, when I hit play on some illegal link or another and found myself simultaneously horrified and enraptured by the spectacle.
Here is your standard scowling shōnen protagonist as a punk-ass little kid, daydreaming alongside his nerdy boyfriend and beautiful-but-deadly girlfriend, deifying doomed local heroes and romanticizing a life beyond his sepia-tinged walled city with odd German attributes. Here is your basic pilot turned entirely alien the moment a giant, skinless colossus peeks over those walls like some bizarre nod to Kilroy was here and then his minions proceed to drop a damn house on the hero’s mother only for another giant nudist to come along and eat her alive right in front of him as the credits roll and a drunk and weeping city watchman runs away carrying her son and his friend, too cowardly to try to save her.
Here is an anime that is brutal, compelling, and, for the most part, brilliantly directed by Tetsurō Araki of Death Note fame, who has partnered with a brand-new animation studio that seems to have been invented for the sole purpose of birthing this fascinating, poignant nightmare.
I think I messaged every one of my otaku friends and told them to stop what they were doing and watch this shit, even though a few of them naturally replied with, “Oh, I’ve been reading the manga for ages.” There was a tangible sense that this series was determined to bring people something they had never seen before. Attack on Titan almost single-handedly changed how anime is interpreted internationally. The series, for all its faults, became the closest equivalent to a formative anime for my generation as Neon Genesis Evangelion was for Gen Xers.
But does that make Attack on Titan impenetrable to criticism? Oh, definitely not. From accusations of creator Hajime Isayama having fascist, loyalist leanings (the story is probably intended to be anti-fascist, but the protagonist and author are continually sabotaging the message), to the anime’s later switch from Wit Studio to MAPPA, an acclaimed studio that has been accused of overworking its animators, from the subsequent, not at all unrelated and disturbing rise of vore in fandom internet corners, to an ending that did too many characters dirty, the franchise has survived no small number of controversies.
One day in 2013, my dad called me on Skype and said, unprompted, “I watched that show you like about the giant babies.”
Now, for context, my dad is a grumpy Mancunian who couldn’t sit through more than one episode of Cowboy Bebop because he didn’t like that the bartender wiping glasses in the background was on an animation loop. But then Attack on Titan appeared on Netflix, and he watched all of it in a weekend, and later the next season, and then the next.
Attack on Titan, with its slick skyborne action sequences, brutal violence, and often contradictory views of human nature, managed to entice demographics who had previously seen anime as juvenile entertainment. Suddenly, anime tees sold like hotcakes at Hot Topic, and the number of anime convention attendees quadrupled. These days, even kids who don’t read manga have a favorite Pokémon and own Sanrio merch and watch shows like Pui Pui Molcar with their siblings.
And weird as it is to link a show about felted guinea pig-shaped vehicles to an anime juggernaut about the horrific ways war saps humanity from all of its participants, this is an essay that’s going to be all about unexpected comparisons. You see, tomorrow I am going to Osaka to see Attack on Titan: The Musical on closing night.
My Not-So Titanic Expectations
January, 12th, 2025 – The day before the show
My god, this had better be a damn circus. I don’t mean a shitshow, but an actual circus. I am no stranger to musical theater, and have seen other 2.5-Dimensional Musical productions in Japan. Essentially, ever since the 1970s, when famed all-women theater group Takarazuka Revue debuted its first of many Rose of Versailles musical adaptations, Japan has made a tradition of adapting popular anime into musicals. In recent years, these 2.5-D shows have seen higher attendance numbers than ever, and are credited with creating a new generation of theatergoers. Some of these shows have seen international success. Even so, it was a surprise to learn that Attack on Titan: The Musical enjoyed a brief stint at the New York City Center in October 2024.
I booked my tickets in November, and have since deliberately neglected to do any research on this show. I want to go in as blindly as possible, or at least as blind as anyone who watched the anime on repeat during depressive episodes in the mid-2010s can be. I don’t know if the score by rapper KEN THE 390 is hip-hop or orchestral or polka. I don’t know whether the citizens of Shiganshina will sing an opening number about the pains of life in a walled city. I hope that it will be Armin rather than Eren or Mikasa who sings the “I Want” song usually reserved for heroines because that little Dutch boy wants to see the ocean. Will a libretto be sold in the lobby, or will there only be the usual glamour shots of cast members in costume that are given out in blind envelopes at most 2.5-D productions? I already know the choreography will be decent, as I have never seen a Japanese show of any kind that did not deliver on the dancing front, and the director, Go Ueki, is a former world champion in breakdancing.
I have just two expectations the show must meet:
1. Since the days of Peter Pan, no production has ever demanded the expert use of flying harnesses more than this one. One of the most thrilling aspects of the original was its groundbreaking approach to combining CG elements with traditional animation to depict the uses of 3D maneuver gear, the technology that allows humans to fight creatures much larger than themselves. If Levi and Mikasa aren’t darting about like we’re at Cirque du Murder Soleil, whipping blades from leg holsters and bringing khaki back as they slice the neck tendons of those big old naked babies, then what’s the point? If this production achieves the same level of risk as the previews of that infamous, doomed U2/Spider-man Broadway show years ago, only then will I consider it a job taken seriously. I am very serious.
2. As a theater geek who has never loved any musical more than Little Shop of Horrors, I have high standards for puppets. When the towering Colossal Titan does his infamous peek-a-boo over the wall, he had better be a giant, ungainly, weird-ass puppet bathed in fog rather than a flat image projected on a screen. If there are no real, clunky-ass Titan marionettes pretending to punch each other, a deep hole will form in my soul, as irrevocable as dying by being swallowed by a naked giant baby in front of your weeping children.
On My Way…
January 13th, 2025
Because I do not work on Mondays (I work Saturdays instead) and three-day weekends for the rest of the nation are normal weekends for me, I forgot that I would be visiting Osaka on Seijin no Hi, Coming of Age Day. I arrived in Namba and stepped outside where beautiful winter kimonos and glorious sparkling updos abounded. Young women and men in formal wear took selfies in all their finery at almost every intersection near Dotonbori. I fought through the chaos of Shinsaibashi to eat Mexican food at El Pancho, an Osaka staple since 1979, and then fled the crowds for the Orix theater.
In the park across the street, waiting for the doors to open, were hundreds of other attendees. Some of them were also wearing holiday finery that marked them as 20 years old. As formative as the show was for fogies like me, I was already a young adult when it aired. What must it have been like to see the series at the age of nine? I hope these kids have therapists.
Most attendees were women and absolutely none were children. Everyone had dressed up ever-so-slightly for the occasion; not in full cosplay as people do in the States, but in garments in forest green or black, holding plushies of the characters or carrying ita-bags covered in Erwin’s scowling visage. One individual had gone to the salon that day to get Levi’s iconic undercut. Military-style boots were a staple, and I was grateful I’d busted out my classic Docs. A woman near me wore a beautiful moss-colored yukata, a striking blue illustration of the Survey Corps emblematic wings hand-painted on her obi.
The excitement was restrained but palpable, as it often is at Japanese fan events. People spoke softly and waited in line to take photos of the show posters. Inside, the line to the women’s bathroom was so long I thought it was the merch line, while the merch line moved so quickly that there was no line at all. I took my seat on the third-floor balcony and watched every single seat fill. The first theater announcement, letting us know the show would start in fifteen minutes, was preceded by an enormous echoing footstep, loud enough to jump-scare the elderly couple sitting two seats away from me. I wondered if they were the sort who attended every musical in town and worried about whether the show would upset them. And then realized I was making biased assumptions. Why can’t an elderly couple be Attack on Titan stans? Old people have every right to enjoy miserable stories, too!
The Show
Let’s get the essentials out of the way:
1. The show really did feature more actors in harnesses than I have ever seen outside of Cirque du Soleil, and even at Cirque those actors are rarely slicing up giant naked humans projected on a towering 20-meter screen (I say rarely because I haven’t seen Cirque du Soleil: KÀ and I hear that show gets wild). The trapezing choreography was damned impressive.
2. Yes, gods be praised, there were puppets. And not just one, or two, or three, but at least five unique puppets. One was the towering colossal Titan, so striking and massive that the audience gasped when his bobbing skull broke through the set’s wall both times it happened. Two more were his giant, swiping hands, seemingly inflatable, manned by cast members or stagehands in nondescript black outfits. Another two were actual Titans, Eren’s Titan and the Armored Titan, brought to life by at least four puppeteers each.
The special effects hugely impressed me with their orchestration. It’s hard to explain properly without giving an example, so let’s refer back to the classic mom-eating scene from the pilot episode. In the musical, this scene is gut-wrenching, as Carla Yeager (Mimi Maihane) sings a lament called “End Song” as Eren and Mikasa fail to pull her from the wreckage. Carla’s trapped beneath rubble on a small, movable tower initially placed in front of the show’s versatile projection screen. On the screen, the audience can see a Titan drawing closer until Eren and Mikasa are pulled away from his mother, at which point her tower is pulled quickly behind the screen but then illuminated so she can be seen through it. To create the illusion of the 2-D Titan devouring her, she is lifted on a harness with timing perfectly matched to the image on the screen, and the spotlight on her hides other nearby objects so that she becomes part of the projected scene rather than separate from the image. The titan bites, the spotlight turns red, then black as she is swallowed, and she’s gone. It was downright operatic, and surrounded by an audience of hushed Japanese fans, the impressive technical aspects were overshadowed only by the emotional impact of the moment. There was a sense, unspoken but deeply felt, that there’s a little too much truth in this graphic story of destruction.
Japan has been both victim and villain during wartime in the past century, like many countries have, and a story about the morality of violence is uncomfortable but also respected and appreciated in a city only 300 kilometers or so from Hiroshima. Japanese audiences are famously quiet, clap only at appropriate times, and rarely hoot and holler. This show earned four or five encores and a standing ovation that only ended when the cast members came out and asked everyone kindly to sit down so they could say thank you one by one.
Despite my joking around at the start of this piece, the show did remind me of Les Misérables. This is another story about being desperate and beleaguered and overwhelmed. Like the series itself, the musical fared best when it focused on the human repercussions of war, the helplessness and resentment of common people faced with unfair odds, and the bonds of friendship and respect that persist even in the bleakest of times.
The casting was nearly perfect, and I have rarely seen such commitment from every single member of an ensemble (See the full cast here). While complete devotion to roles was appreciated as far as the characters went, the musical could have benefited from being less reverential toward the source material. Essentially, the musical covers the same ground as the first thirteen episodes of the anime’s first season but goes no further; given this, hints toward future mysteries and minute details about the Titans themselves got in the way of the story. Why should anyone care about the loose thread that is the Yeager’s basement, a plot point that was annoying even in the manga? And once again, why is the act of moving a boulder seen as the only certain way to save a city when all it would take is the Colossal Titan kicking a hole in another part of the wall again to undo it? Elements like this made the second half of the show feel less urgent, despite the fantastic action sequences and dramatic character interactions. I wondered what someone unfamiliar with the original would make of some of these details and subplots, and how much these efforts at pleasing the fans might discourage possible newcomers.
Maybe having no proper ending makes the show better. Unlike the source material, this glimpse into the dark world of Shingeki no Kyojin doesn’t have time to become a convoluted mess. Because of its brevity, the musical distills many of the best aspects of Attack on Titan into a single two-hour block of visceral entertainment.
And what about the music? Well, that’s up for debate. Only a few melodies remained in my head after the performance, but it’s hard to say how much of that has to do with the language barrier (though there were subtitles). The songs that worked the best for me were the sad ones, while others felt misplaced. “Banquet for Our Future Careers,” a celebratory J-Pop number sung by the military recruits after finishing their training was entertaining but tone-deaf, and why why why do modern musicals of all stripes insist on incorporating disco elements into the score? For my money, the single most evocative song was “Requiem for Anguish,” a duet between two women with incredible voices; Mimi Maihane, portraying the ghost of Eren’s mother, and a doomed Shiganshina survivor, sing of their wishes for the future, even though they won’t see it. “Even when darkness shuts out hope, I am with you… Even through the tears of chaos, we are still alive! Resound our requiem! Even when darkness closes in on my life, I am with god!”
I’m not religious, but man did that resonate, sung by adults who failed to protect their kids, placing both hope and an unfair burden on the generation left behind. Oof.
The choreography did not disappoint, and Go Ueki’s breakdancing prowess had its moment too, with one ensemble member spinning on his head for what felt like a minute straight. Eat your heart out, Raygun.
As in the manga, a little too much time is spent focusing on blossoming sociopath Eren Yeager (though actor Kurumu Okamiya gave a great performance), but fan favorites were given their due. Memorable moments centered on Mikasa kicking ass, Jean being snarky, Armin being brave, and Hange being a certifiable weirdo. Levi and Erwin’s roles were incorporated into the story much earlier than in the manga, and as a pair replaced the role of General Pyxis; this may have been a two-birds-one-stone situation, as Pyxis was inspired by a controversial general of the Imperial Japanese Army. Attempts at humor mostly failed to land given the circumstances, but Sena, the actress portraying Sasha tried her damnedest to earn a few laughs.
Unsteady moments aside, on the whole, the show’s weight was felt, like the vibrating footfall of an unseen giant. If I had to put it in a blurb, I’d probably go with something like “Flawed, but undeniably spectacular.” And hey, that just means it’s an accurate adaptation of the source material.
Aftermath
When I reflect on Attack on Titan: The Musical, my thoughts are mostly appreciative. Attack on Titan was an anime that existed right when people needed it to, and its strongest messages remain powerful in any medium.
My dad (he of the insightful “giant babies” comment) said, “You know, I put that Attack on Titan show on again after years and years and I realized that everyone in it was just screaming all the time. Just … a lot of screaming. I had to shut it off.”
Well, Dad, while others might sympathize, a whole lot of screaming is to be expected of works that forged my generation. We have a lot of screaming to do, and not enough opportunities to do it. We have been longing to scream since at least 2001, or maybe 1999.
Maybe that’s why Attack on Titan, and even its relative fall from critical grace, still works. People my age have seen endless childhood idols crumble in recent years. J.K. Rowling is a turd, and people are still grappling with the fallout from Neil Gaiman—and don’t you dare ask my wounded heart about Joss Whedon. The fall of Titan has been relatively mild by comparison, despite many a disappointing character ending, and that fall in itself borders on being a weird sort of comfort. Like, of course it wouldn’t stay entirely gold, lol…
So why not adapt this beautiful, hideous mess of a series, with all of its triumphs and pitfalls, into a flashy, heartfelt musical?
Singing is a slightly more positive alternative to screaming, I think.
I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I’m living,
So different now from—oh wow, look at Levi go! Omg, Armin, please continue being the frail dweeb who stands up for his friends! And seriously how is that man still spinning on his head? Won’t he hurt his neck?
Author’s Note: So … I lied about writing a Trigun article because shortly after I stated that intention, I learned that Tara Sim has already written a wonderful piece on Trigun here at Reactor, and you should go read that instead.
But hey, here’s some fun news! Very soon, we’ll be introducing a fun new feature on the anime front called Anime Grab-Bag. Here’s the general premise:
Each month, my long-time cosplayer comrade and otaku friend Bridget and I will spin a roulette wheel featuring anime titles from a specific speculative fiction genre or subgenre. Based on the wheel’s choices, we will watch three shows that fit the following constraints:
- It must be an anime that at least one of us has never seen and/or heard of.
- It must be available to stream somewhere so that readers can join in if they want to.
- We must base our reactions on the first episode alone, without context.
And then we’ll react and share our reactions and you can share yours, too! Chaos may ensue, but it should be a good time, and who knows? We might find some hidden gems or, at the very least, some delightful stinkers.
For now, I am curious about what you are watching and what anime defined your formative years. And hell, if you wanna talk about musicals, I’m interested in that, too. Happy 2025, all…
