You could call Shinichiro Watanabe’s Lazarus a retread of his masterpiece, Cowboy Bebop. That’s not to say the show is bad — based on the five episodes I’ve seen so far, Lazarus is still an entertaining and stylish ride. But I’ve just come to expect more from a legendary creator like Watanabe.
It’s set in the year 2052, a near-future when a renowned neuroscientist released Hapna, a drug that can erase all pain. If that sounds too good to be true, it is: Hapna’s creator Dr. Skinner reveals to the world that everyone who took the drug will eventually die. And then he disappears. Like an evil Willy Wonka, he announces one hope for survival: Find him in 30 days, or humanity is doomed.
To help find Skinner, the government sets up a covert group named Lazarus made up of convicted criminals. And that’s where the similarities come in. There’s the lead, Axel Gilberto, a parkour junkie who resembles Bebop’s reckless and carefree Spike Spiegel. Rounding out the team is Christine, a gorgeous femme fatale; Eleina, a bright young hacker; and Doug, a gruff investigator who has little patience for Axel’s shit. Those are all clear analogs to the Bebop crew of Faye, Ed and Jet. The one new element of the team is Leland, a cute college student who takes on various roles during the show (perhaps he’s just an anthropomorphized version of Bebop’s adorable pup Ein).
There’s a bit of Suicide Squad in the idea of using criminals to find humanity’s greatest villain, but Lazarus doesn’t really justify why that’s the case (that may be answered later in the show’s 13-episode run). And you’d think there would be more government efforts beyond a group of misfits to accomplish a humanity-saving mission. The Lazarus crew get a few chances to bond throughout each episode, but their interpersonal dynamics feel less organic than the Bebop characters, whose relationships were enriched by the pressure-cooker environment of an interplanetery spaceship, ever-present economic struggle and compelling backstories. By episode five of Lazarus, I didn’t have any real understanding of these characters, whereas Bebop delivered the seminal episode Ballad of the Fallen Angels by then.
Like Watanabe’s Samurai Champloo, Lazarus is best enjoyed if you don’t look too closely at its plot holes or contrivances (Axel’s inhuman parkour abilities make Spike Spiegel’s antics seem tame in comparison). It’s better to sit back and enjoy the incredibly stylish vibes. That includes wonderfully fluid animation by Mappa; a catchy soundtrack by Kamasi Washington, Floating Points and Bonobo (with a great ending theme, “Lazarus” by The Boo Radleys); and bone-crunching action choreography by John Wick director Chad Stahelski. It’s hard not to appreciate all of the talent involved.
But again, I just wish the whole project felt more original. Lazarus’s premise isn’t far off from Cowboy Bebop: The Movie, which involved a terrorist plot to deploy nanomachines that would kill everyone on Mars. It’s also funny to see the show arrive alongside a more inventive show like Max’s Common Side Effects, which deals with the real-world consequences of miracle drugs that could heal any illness or injury. That show’s characters are more grounded and relatable, and it explores why pharmaceutical companies would stop at nothing to kill such a miracle drug.
“The story began with Dr. Skinner… Is he a saint or a devil?” Watanabe said on the Engadget podcast via a translator (while he relaxed in shades with a mountain of records behind him, like the absolute boss he is). “Exactly what does he want to do? That was a big initial driving part of the story. … What you initially thought of Skinner at [the] start may change throughout the 13 episodes.”
It’s not a huge spoiler to say that Dr. Skinner isn’t always portrayed as a villain in the show. Before the release of Hapna, he was a famous neuroscientist who pushed humanity to respond to the climate crisis. But instead of listening to him, the world’s countries chose to pursue profit over the future of humanity. With that in mind, it’s no shock Watanabe says the inspiration for Hapna was, in part, the opioid crisis.
Throughout flashbacks and short opening monologues, Lazarus gives us glimpses into Hapna’s effect on our main characters, all of which is more compelling than the actual quest to find Dr. Skinner. Did the pill really heal everyone’s pain, or did it just close off their ability to feel true emotions?
I’m sure newcomers to Watanabe’s work won’t have the same reservations with Lazarus as I do, I just wish the show had the same distinctive identity as his other series. Cowboy Bebop is a jazz-soaked noir; Space Dandy is a hilarious riff on the space opera genre; and Carol and Tuesday is a touching story of two young girls pursuing a pop music career. Lazarus is basically another action thriller, but this time it’s scored to modern jazz and electronic music.
I’m holding out hope that Lazarus matures into a more thoughtful show in its second half. But even if it doesn’t, it’s still worth celebrating anything new from Shinichiro Watanabe. There aren’t many anime directors and writers with his sense of style and excellent taste in music and action cinema. Even if it’s a lesser Watanabe project, it’s still more entertaining and creative than the vast majority of shows bombarding us in the streaming TV era, anime or otherwise.
