n previous episodes of Key: The Metal Idol, writer/director Hiroaki Sato wove an elaborate web of mysteries around a pallid, emotionless little girl named Tokiko "Key" Mima. Key says she's a robot; her friends believe she's a trauma victim, but try to help her with her goal of finding 30,000 "true friends" to help her become human. Meanwhile, everyone who enters Key's life in any capacity seems to get trapped in the web. Most of them--famous idol singers, snake-god cultists and industrial roboticists alike--have plans for exploiting Key. All of them have dangerous secrets to hide.
But in this triple-length episode, Sato cuts nearly all the threads in a series of massive monologues that expose virtually all of those secrets. The sordid and sad history of Key's creator/grandfather Murao pours forth from several different characters, revealing the details of his fatal connections to robotics pioneer (and savage nutcase) Jinsaku Ajo. Key's origin, her nature and the source of her strange--and unpredictable--powers are all revealed. Even the riddle of super-idol singer Miho is explained in a pragmatic and straightforward style.
Meanwhile, Key herself spends nearly this entire 90-minute movie in a deathlike sleep, recovering from the traumatic excesses of episode No. 13. While Sato busily fills in the blanks, she remains as oblivious to the massive spate of revelations as she normally is to her own buried emotions.
Satisfying but not spicy
So far, Sato has done a stunning job of shaping his narrative subtly and indirectly, using visual artistry and sophisticated symbolism to keep the story sidling rather than striding forward. This episode is the exception. The tension level in the series hits an all-time low as most of the characters simply sit back and chat at great length about the past and its connections to the ongoing strangeness of the present.
The revelations are, of course, intensely satisfying and thoroughly fascinating. Key is a classic example of the common anime theme of "man's technology vs. man's humanity," but the barest bones of the theme are the only commonplace thing in sight. Sato continues to develop his characters with uncommon brilliance and emotion.
Still, the execution leaves a bit to be desired this time out. Sato's individual images are as sharp and compelling as ever, but he takes obvious and repeated shortcuts with the animation. Protagonists and antagonists alike deliver huge speeches as they sit perfectly still with their mouths covered. The resulting completely motionless frames are a perfect symbol for the completely motionless plot, which remains on hold while Sato spews massive amounts of information at viewers. He even resorts to having characters explain things to themselves at great length for the audience's benefit. If the series to date has been like an animated poem, this gob of exposition is a bit like an animated textbook--informative and useful, but still a bit dry.
