Mobile Suit Gundam GQuuuuuuX is, in many ways, the ideal mecha anime compilation film. The newest addition to the 46-year-old franchise – which helped establish the real robot genre – is an invigorating, salty-sweet reimagining of the original TV show's grim, intergalactic conflict, with enough dorky irreverence and Barbie pink explosions to satisfy both old fans and series newcomers. But I can't understand why Mobile Suit Gundam GQuuuuuuX spoils the fun by sexualizing its teen girl protagonist.
The film, which is an edited, theatrical version of some episodes in the new Mobile Suit Gundam GQuuuuuuX TV show – set to release in Japan on April 8 – has enough merit to fill a gold mine. It shouldn't need to rely on cheap peeks under her schoolgirl skirt.
GQuuuuuuX is the series' first major collaboration between Neon Genesis Evangelion creator Hideaki Anno's Khara studio and Bandai Namco's Sunrise – "a crossing of dreams," Gundam calls it in a press release. Anno himself co-wrote the script alongside Revolutionary Girl Utena writer Yoji Enokido, while Anno's disciple and Evangelion director Kazuya Tsurumaki handled GQuuuuuuX's direction.
That is enough industry power to keep a wind turbine swirling, and the result is both visually and emotionally stunning. The alternate universe movie follows Machu, a high schooler with pink hair and a natural ability to command the fearsome mobile suit GQuuuuuuX. She uses the suit – clumsily lost by the Zeon military, coaxing Challia Bull into a wary pursuit – in illegal "clan battles," hoping to win money for the quiet, blue-haired delivery girl Nyaan while growing closer to her mysterious second-in-command Shuji.
I quickly became attached to Machu while watching GQuuuuuuX at its New York premiere. While the movie supplies barely any details about her life beyond a few casual remarks – she goes to cram school, her mother loves her – it emphasizes her listlessness at several points. Machu aches to experience real gravity and real seas, not the manufactured environment of her colony in UC 0085. Even with the galaxy spilling endless stars around her, she wonders, "Can you be free in space?"
Her philosophical angst is fresh and relevant, reminding me of my own ennui existing in a society where billionaires romanticize Mars, and the world seemingly has little regard for women's safety. GQuuuuuuX's laser swords and pretty character designs – reminiscent of the clean and colorful style of the original '80s Gundam – emphasize Machu's revelation when she discovers a portal of fractured, rainbow light during a mobile suit battle.
"Kira kira," she calls it, or glitter, a vacuum of endless shine she starts to yearn for.
I love Machu for her ambition. Ultimately, she's an unabashedly girly genius, who modernizes the Gundam franchise by being one of its few female protagonists with dimension. That's a cue GQuuuuuuX seems to take from Evangelion. But, despite both the character and the film's impressiveness, I just can't get over the fact that, in GQuuuuuuX – much like Evangelion treats its own female characters – Machu is mercilessly sexualized.
Right after we see Machu's face in GQuuuuuuX, we see her underwear. The high schooler is introduced in a handstand position, surrounded by a crowd of classmates squealing about her panties. From this early moment in the film, I felt my guard go up, making it impossible to savor any of the intriguing moments that were to follow.
Hypersexualizing young girls is one of anime's most pervasive tropes, and it's as revolting as a wound that won't close. Apart from contributing to a global culture of violence against women and girls, legendary but lecherous anime like Evangelion also makes it impossible for me as a female audience member to legitimately connect with a female character. There's always a voice whispering in the back of my mind, reminding me that she's only here for people to gawk at, not relate to.
It's alienating. And it's disappointing that Machu is subjected to such lazy exploitation; GQuuuuuuX also depicts the small, obviously young character naked in the bathtub in an unnecessarily drawn-out sequence, and naked in the kira kira, though no other character who passes through the sparkle appears to lose their clothes. She also wiggles through an older man's legs while controlling a mobile suit for the first time, something that made my screening's audience giggle.
But, for me, these uncomfortable moments sit like black coffee on an empty stomach. It's not like collaborator Hideaki Anno can't do better – the writer's 1998 live-action experimental film Love & Pop is highly condemnatory of the deranged Japanese men who pay to date its naive high school protagonists.
That movie has plenty of intimate shots of its young female characters – the camera often swoops under their uniform skirts, or glares at their bare legs – but its context is critical, not blissfully unrelated like GQuuuuuuX. In Love & Pop, teen girls are surrounded by staring eyes, unwanted hands, stinking hot breath at the back of their necks. So, even the camera becomes part of the frenzy, suggesting that the vulnerable girls are always seen as sexual, even when they're alone, even when they're afraid. But in the unrelated GQuuuuuuX, getting a glimpse of Machu's undies or bare shoulders turns her body into a spectator sport.
Machu deserves better, as do incoming fans of Mobile Suit Gundam GQuuuuuuX's otherwise refreshing take on the franchise. I left the film wondering, why do robots deserve more respect than a girl?
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