Trigun (1998): Love! Peace! Nostalgia!

A decade ago, during a hot summer afternoon–a young boy is seated in front of the family computer. His eyes are glued to the computer screen, practically sparkling, entranced by an anime he’d initially seen on TV. On display is an intense action sequence, a man with orange shades dishing out gunshots back and forth in an epic duel. With every bam, blang and boom–the boy gets more and more excited and, suddenly–the climax of the action passes, the sequence ends. The dust settles and all that remains is… both the man and his adversary on their two feet.

In any other series, this would’ve been a letdown to the boy. But, when it’s Trigun, it’s his favorite part of the episode.

Years before Trigun: Stampede’s blazing trail of glory, I watched Trigun’s 1998 adaptation. The child I was, I had a very simple understanding of the show. What stuck to my mind were not the deep, cutting-edge themes of environmental destruction and human greed–but Vash’s long-winded gag name and iconic obsession with donuts. And, at some point, I had stopped watching it. To this day, it’s been a mystery to me why exactly I dropped it. When, during key moments of my life where I had to define myself–three words rung in my ears like a bell.

Love.. and.. peace!

Vash the Stampede was a key figure in my development. His gags and gap moe stuck with me, influencing my sense of humor and love for certain characters to this day. But, what my mind truly honed in on was his ideals–encapsulated to just three words. It guided me, even. I’m not a saint, but in any given scenario, I know that my truest desire is a path where no one is hurt. Even utilitarianism, the most sleek and compact version of this ideal, makes me feel upset given any specific circumstance. As long as one person is hurt, especially if it’s unjustified–I just can’t take it. I want to do something. Being able to do so is another matter.

So what can I do? Empathy may come to most people naturally, but compassion is something you develop. And the way Vash cheers people up with his gags, the way he tries to believe in the best of everyone no matter the circumstances he’s been through… Ultimately, Vash the Stampede inspired me to cultivate my compassion.

But as I aged, I had left the series behind. Occupied with so much of my life’s turbulence at the time, it had but slipped my mind for several years… Until Trigun: Stampede was announced.

With my dear friend Luna, I took the time to rewatch the entirety of Trigun: 1998. This is both a review, and a love letter to the series that built me. This is my very first post on Neocities–”Trigun (1998): Love! Peace! Nostalgia!”

Visuals: 10/10

You’re going to know me best for this the more I make reviews, but coherency in visuals is important to me. A distinct and strong foundation for a series’ aesthetic goes a long, long way for me. If it’s too everywhere, tossing this and that concept into a bubbling cauldron expecting to produce something edible–it’s just not going to work for me. When it comes to stories, I believe it needs a strong foundation, or else it’s not going to hold up.

But to say Trigun (1998) is solid in it’s visuals is an absolute understatement.

Yasuhiro Nightow’s seamless blend of the sci-fi and western cowboy genre is already perfect, but Trigun’s 1998 anime adaptation truly captures the best of Nightow’s imagination. This is my interpretation, but I believe when it comes to Trigun’s visual presentation, its core philosophy is “Beauty can always be found in unlikely places.”--when approaching my review of the presentation with that in mind, it feels as if the already masterwork visuals reached new heights.

No Man’s Land is a bleak desert planet devoid of most fauna and greenery. With the addition of the the scrappy buildings and consistent emphasis on the greed of human beings–it’s easy to say that No Man’s Land displays the ugliest of humanity. Yet, when I recall the visuals of Trigun (1998)--I can’t seem to agree. Vash’s coat billowing behind the night sky in the opening, Meryl’s charmingly exaggerated expressions, the pretty blue skies in every backdrop and the charming way every place in No Man’s Land feels so lived in…

The presentation emphasizes that, despite how empty and bleak things can become, humanity will find a way to make things beautiful. Just think about it–those memorable and charming character designs, the living spaces those characters take up and the ideals they formulate about the world around them. To me, they all shine so splendidly, often making me forget that No Man’s Land is as deserted as it gets.

Storytelling: 8.5/10

When it comes to discussing Trigun’s 1998 adaptation, there’s something that must be established. It is not the most faithful adaptation out there. It loosely follows the plot threads of Trigun’s original manga and Trigun Maximum, but it definitely doesn’t stick closely to it. So, to get right to it–is this a good or bad move on Madhouse’s part?

I’d opt to say it’s neither good or bad, but the best move that they could’ve made at the time. Unfortunately, this goes into ‘the world revolves around money!’ semantics, but bear with me here. Adapting ongoing manga, as opposed to finished manga, is greatly beneficial for the publishing companies behind them. To make sense of this, I’ll lay out the logic behind this. Ultimately, the final ‘goal’ of these companies is to get the manga’s sales rocketing. An anime adaptation, time and time again, had proven to be the absolute best advertisement for a manga. Therefore, publishing companies and anime studios strike opt to strike when the iron is hot. They work together to create adaptations that’ll fuel interest in the viewer to check out the manga while it’s still going. A sort of, “Come on, this isn’t even all of it! There’s even more to see!” kind of deal, you know? But when the manga is already over, when the hype has all but passed–there’s way less profit to be made, as opposed to hanging the story carrot in front of the reader horse.

So, that’s the ‘backstage’ answer behind Trigun (1998)’s adaptation being the way it is. How about the actual story’s quality, now that Madhouse made that decision all those years ago?

Hmmm. In my opinion, if you had to metaphorify the pros and cons of Trigun (1998)’s story, it’d be sort of like this.

A seamstress, Miss Madhouse, had just been given a layout and plan for a dress with a deadline, courtesy of Yasuhiro Nightow. The dress is just absolutely wonderful, spectacular even. But, there’s a catch–it was delivered with a tear on the plans. The tear practically bites into the dress. Nightow is on a trip and currently unavailable for contact, so what now?

Miss Madhouse will simply have to make do. With her years of working on dresses, she has developed quite an eye for patterns. Easily, she could examine the dress’ existing patterns and place them where the year lands. That’s truly, and definitely, the easiest way to go about it…

…But wait! Miss Madhouse takes a closer look at this tear. The way it’s shaped… almost forms a pattern? Ideas spin in Miss Madhouse’s mind. No, not only can she copy and overlay what she can observe on-top of the tear–she can even incorporate it’s (rather fascinating) shape into a decorative piece!

Thus, Miss Madhouse produces a rather unique dress. She had the option of leaving that end of the dress bare, bland or abandon the project entirely–but instead, she works with it.

Now, with that metaphor in mind, I believe I can explain the pros and cons of Trigun’s 1998 adaptation efficiently. Madhouse’s production decisions have ultimately resulted in a brand new take of Trigun, a surprise for even long time readers, taking the original narrative to places where it couldn’t have before. New and charming characters, interesting and hard-hitting storylines–it may be different, but it’s far from bad.

As for the cons… that tear-like shape certainly is there though. What was cooking in Nightow’s mind would not be adapted, not until years later, leaving the brilliance of his later writing to remain diluted in a way. Some storylines are simplified and characters’ arcs go into jarring places (or maybe, nowhere at all…) leaving the more faithful-adaptation-expecting fans to be rather unsatisfied.

I’d give the story an 8.5/10 personally. I may have typed the word ‘diluted’ just now, but let me tell you: my finger made some crazy twitches typing that. Trigun’s manga is brilliant, but the anime is definitely amazing and stands on it’s own too. There are some storylines there that absolutely wreck me, and turns out? Completely anime original. Sure, there’s some later sections that can throw anyone off, but it absolutely does not overshadow the heart in Trigun (1998). It displays the best and worst of what an anime adaptation can do, but I believe the best shines above all. There is certainly care taken when it came to weaving more into this intricately crafted story of Nightow’s–and what it resulted in is a breathtaking classic to me.

Favorites

I will briefly explain what exactly the “Favorites” section is. Simply put, this is where I gush about two things. My absolute favorite character, my absolute favorite scene and favorite quote. Here we go!

Favorite Character: Vash the Stampede

Before I worked on this section of the review, my friend Luna had sent me a quote she found.

”You must not ever stop being whimsical. And you must never, ever give anyone else the responsibility of your life.”

As I pondered over what to say in this section of the review–the ways Vash has changed me as a person, how many times his silly goofy gags have brought a smile to my face and how vividly my heart ached when his did too–this quote popped up in my head. I believe it’s worth mentioning, and worth starting this section of the review with.

Vash the Stampede in Trigun (1998), to me, represents faith in humanity. No matter how terrible, awful, greedy and sinful humans are–to themselves and to others–Vash always looks upon them kindly. He treats them with respect and kindness. I believe this iteration of Vash had initially done this out of respect for Rem, but gradually had come to adore humanity. Not only that, but he’s come to act like them too! Crack jokes like them, drink and be merry with them… He is their ever-present guardian and representative–and this is what I love most about him.

Our world as is undeniably cruel. Suffering is everywhere, and no one can really catch a break. We hurt, maim and terrorize each other and everything around us–easily cultivating this thought within people that, yeah, humanity sucks.

I can’t deny this, and I have suffered a fair share of the world’s cruel jokes. But I don’t want to believe that this world is just pure, undiluted suffering and pain. That just can’t be right. How can that be, when the world is so full of beautiful things? My friends’ laughter, donation of necessities, preservation of our environment–there’s so much to prove that, yes, humans are capable of so much more than just cruelty.

Vash the Stampede, from every joke he makes to every passionate declaration of no killing, enforces this thought so much–and it’s such a breath of fresh air, in a time where media thrives on irony and ingenuineness.

There are certain protagonists, in some way or some form, who meddle with the status quo. There are so many scenes in Trigun (1998) where everything could’ve gotten way, way worse if it weren’t for Vash’s presence. He continues to travel around, helping people here and there, reminding people of kindness in such a cruel and harsh world–and I just so ardently believe he is what people need to see sometimes.

He’s sort of this inspiring, shounen protagonist that makes someone want to be like him or make people believe there are people like him. That there is still kindness, whimsy and beauty in the world–no matter what happens.

These themes built me, and I’m sure it built other people too.

Favorite Scene: Episode 24, “Sin”

Throughout my very busy life of consuming media, there’s various scenes that have seared themselves in the back of my brain. I would like to officially declare that this is one of them.

This is the most chillingly brilliant scene in Trigun’s 1998 adaptation, and one of the many reasons why I just cannot bring myself to say Madhouse made the wrong decision. How they used Legato in the series is absolutely amazing, but he truly reaches the peak of his character writing moments before his death.

I absolutely, truly, definitely– from the bottom of my heart – love characters with strong ideals. But what I love even more is the exploration of these, the challenging of it. How far can one’s vengeance go? How far can saving people go? How far can not killing people go?

Legato, since the first episode he appeared, has been cultivating a certain impression of Vash. He wants him to hate him, to despise him and to want him dead. He presents himself as an anti-thesis to what Vash believes in, starting from threatening the lives of innocents during that sunny day by the foundation. He pits Vash against assassins who threatens his life, he inadvertently causes Wolfwood’s death, he puts Meryl and Milly in danger, he puts dozens of innocents in danger–Legato manages to take this tower made of grudges sky-high, planning to pierce Vash’s out-of-this-world saintly ideals with it.

Not exactly an ideal, but I certainly had an aspect of myself I hinged my entire life on. As I grew older, it gradually came to fall apart and shatter into a million little pieces. Losing that foothold, that foundational ‘thing’ of who you are–well, it can make someone lose the light in their eyes two seconds flat. But having experienced this, then experiencing this scene… It definitely made me feel like my heart dropped so far down it stuck to my stomach.

This is one of those scenes that made me so desperately wish there was a solution, a silver lining, anything. Wolfwood will descend from the heavens and beat Legato up! Rem will show up and remind Vash of his ideals! This, that! But–there was truly, definitely no way out of it. Vash had to kill Legato, or two innocent people will be killed, or even a dozen more. But it’d go against his ideals, it’d go against who he is.

It’s one thing to kill someone, to wound them physically and whatnot–but to uproot someone’s entire foundational life philosophy and spit on it like this is one of the most cruelest scenes I’ve witnessed. It’s absolutely brilliant.

This episode ends with the quote, “I will make Vash the Stampede suffer eternal pain.”--one that is just heart-achingly apt. Good Job, Legato. I, the viewer, will be suffering eternal pain as well.

Enjoyment: 11/10

Solid Visuals? Check. Solid Storytelling? Check. Nostalgia? Check. Drove me to the point of being teary-eyed while writing this review because of just how much this series means to me at this point? Check.

Trigun (1998) will always have a special place in my heart, and this had just been reinforced for me. Truly understanding the fictional man who had built me as a person just gives me such a deep sense of satisfaction. Finishing this anime felt like a long-coming checkpoint. One that, once I’d reach, would make me look back and see how far I’ve come.

I’ve come far, very very far, and I owe that to Vash the Stampede and his antics. Because of that, I can’t help but have deep fondness for every moment in this anime. The gags, the characters, the expressions, the scenery–everything about it takes me back to that summer day, watching Trigun in front of the family computer.

I enjoyed this anime, I really did.

(And, special shout-out to my best friend Luna, who’d watched the series with me! If it weren’t for her, I probably would’ve taken twice as long, and experiencing it with her was a blast.)

Conclusion: 9.5/10

• Definite must-watch.
• Funny, silly and earnest.
• Strong start, strong beginning, a bit of a weak ending but the journey makes it worth it.
• Inspired me to become the best person I can be, the kindest person I can be, to always believe in the best of people and make the world a better place even through the littlest ways.
• Wolfwood sexy

I conclude this review with a meme I made.