The Ghost That Became a Shadow
Let's be honest: for millions of people around the world, the phrase "Ghost in the Shell" instantly conjures a very specific audiovisual image. A rainy Newport — overly unwelcoming even by cyberpunk metropolis standards, a cold gray-green palette, oppressive choral singing, and the endlessly detached, frozen gaze of Motoko Kusanagi, contemplating the fluid boundaries of her own "self" from the stern of a boat.
Mamoru Oshii's 1995 feature film is a true monolith. It changed the perception of Japanese animation in the West and influenced a whole generation of directors and artists — just think of "The Matrix." However, such colossal cultural influence also had a side effect.
Oshii's film became so firmly entrenched in the mass consciousness that it seemed to instill a fixed idea in the minds of subsequent creators: they absolutely had to create "something of their own" and try to reach the masterpiece, even if only with a pinky finger. In practice, this often turned into banal self-indulgence based on the original. As a result, for thirty years, no one dared to do the obvious — simply take and adequately adapt the source material to the screen.
Yet, Masamune Shirow's original manga, published at the turn of the 1980s and 1990s, breathed a completely different air. It was colorful, chaotic, ironic, at times caricatured and provocative. At the same time, the graphic novel was no less intellectually dense than the film — it just didn't elevate it to an absolute.
Shirow could stage a frantic shootout on one page, insert a detailed author's footnote in the corner, crack a joke, show Motoko from a piquant angle — and then immediately return to a philosophical debate about network consciousness, brainwashing, or state violence.
Science SARU's new adaptation ventures into this historically neglected territory and answers a fundamental question: what would "Ghost in the Shell" look like if the industry hadn't been afraid of Masamune Shirow's eccentricity from the very beginning? The master himself has already blessed the project, calling it the start of "the second generation" of adaptations, designed to breathe new life into the classic material. Which means it's time to rediscover this world.
Welcome to Newport City
The first season, as expected, is based on the first volume of the original manga, and Science SARU didn't lie: the anime's structure completely replicates the procedural format of the source material with local investigations and a central "case" that truly begins to unravel closer to the finale.
The plot transports us to the familiar Newport of 2029 — the new capital of Japan. The Fourth World War has recently ended, and cybernetic technologies have become part of everyday life. People connect to the network via cyberbrains, replace organs and limbs with implants, but at the same time, they are increasingly vulnerable to hacking, manipulation, and consciousness copying.
To counter new threats, the secret Section 9 of Public Security is created. Under the leadership of Daisuke Aramaki, the team takes on the dirtiest and most delicate cases that cannot be solved legally and openly.
The core of the group consists of Major Motoko Kusanagi — a woman with a fully cybernetic body who managed to preserve her human "ghost"; the cybernetic brute Batou; and former detective Togusa — the most "human" member of the squad, who, although possessing a cyberbrain, has retained his real body and loyalty to an antiquated revolver.
However, the Motoko here will be a shock to the unprepared viewer. This is not a melancholic, latex-clad cyberpunk icon who contemplates existential emptiness for hours. The new Motoko comes straight from the manga pages: she is sarcastic, lively, at times frankly rude, impulsive, but a hellishly dangerous operative. She can brazenly argue with the "orangutan" Aramaki, chug beer at a bar, tease colleagues, and right in the middle of a serious briefing, remotely connect to an official, making him smack himself in the face.
The creators also didn't shy away from the Major's sexuality, preserving and even enhancing the fanservice elements of the original. We even get a glimpse into her "vacation," hinting at the use of a specific blue liquid — software for extreme sensitivity enhancement.
And although censorship is still in place, it acts much more elegantly and less directly than in official manga editions (however, the question remains: is it exclusive to the Russian release?).
The rest of the team assists the trio: cyber operations specialist Ishikawa, sniper Saito, operatives Pazu and Boma, as well as the Fuchikomas — spider-like combat tanks with artificial intelligence.
Together, they will have to deal with an avalanche of diverse cases: from child exploitation and brainwashing in the Sacred Salvation Center to preventing diplomatic scandals, eliminating android malfunctions, and investigating attacks by the mysterious Puppet Master — a hacker capable of hacking the human "ghost."
The Price of Authenticity
From the first two episodes, it's clear that the creators were even overly careful with the source material, adapting Masamune Shirow's text almost verbatim, and the visuals almost frame by frame. The series' visual style caused a lot of debate even before its release due to its bright palette, simplified forms, and departure from Oshii's "realism." However, such claims always lead to a dead end: "Have you even seen the original manga?"
Shirow's original artwork is the embodiment of style: vibrant colors, dynamic lines, and technofetishism with which the master rendered every detail of cybertechnology. Fortunately, for Science SARU, which gave us "Dandadan" and "Scott Pilgrim Takes Off," this colorful world proved to be their native element. The studio initially seemed like the ideal candidate to fully unleash the manga's aesthetic — expectations were fully met.
The new "Ghost in the Shell" turned out to be flashy, bright, and provocative. It organically combines retro stylistics with modern technologies: pixelated blood, slow-motion, digital interference, and smooth visual transitions reflecting network manipulations.
Director Toma Kimura (working under the pseudonym Moko-chan), for whom this project was a full-fledged debut, managed to genuinely surprise with the direction. Under his guidance, the action doesn't crumble into chaotic eclecticism: the frame remains legible even in the most insane moments, and the characters' movements retain plasticity without losing the caricatured stylization from the manga.
The scene in the Sacred Salvation Center is particularly impressive, where dynamic visuals are underscored by an orchestral soundtrack with a leading violin. This counterpoint doesn't just build adrenaline; it adds additional relief to the frame, assembling it into a rich audiovisual canvas that feels truly cyberpunk.
The Russian dub also deserves a separate mention. NDA Studio, under the direction of Alexander Gavrilin, did an excellent job, complementing the voice acting with localization of on-screen text, interfaces, and author's footnotes. And Eva Filkenstein perfectly captured Motoko's multifaceted nature and expressiveness — although we still have to compare her work with the original Japanese cast in the full release.
It's also too early to draw conclusions about the entire season, especially since potential problems are already visible. The main one is the flip side of literally following the source material. In pursuit of authenticity, the creators sometimes transfer techniques to the screen that work less effectively in animation.
For example, the scene at the end of the first chapter is presented through a static frame and voiceover instead of full visualization, and explanatory footnotes appear so suddenly during the narrative that you simply don't have time to read them.
Moreover, the plot in the manga sometimes jumps too abruptly from one mini-story to another, making you want to linger inside the episodes a little longer. But an "extended" version of the original is not to be expected. This is the obvious price of the chosen method, although it will be easy to accept if the creators manage to maintain the set quality bar until the finale.
Verdict
Science SARU has fulfilled and exceeded expectations, giving us a full-fledged adaptation of Masamune Shirow's original manga. The first episodes clearly remind us that the true "Ghost in the Shell" is not only existential reflections on identity and the nature of consciousness but also a genre cocktail of cyberpunk, comedy, and political thriller, as well as a dynamic procedural with lively team dynamics, sharp humor, and vibrant action.
Perhaps its only drawback at this stage remains its overly literal adherence to the source material, which does not always seem justified within the animated medium. Nevertheless, it is a luxurious gift to every fan of the original work and at the same time the most convenient entry point for newcomers, requiring no prior knowledge of the canon.
A priori, I want to say: right now, this adaptation looks like the best thing that has happened to "Ghost in the Shell" in the last thirty years. And whether this trust will be justified — we will find out very soon.