So many of the qualities that make animation uniquely enjoyable are impossible to replicate in live-action adaptations. So why even bother? Well, there’s intellectual property to exploit. That’s surely a driver behind the Netflix adaptation of “Cowboy Bebop” with John Cho as Spike Spiegel, the rakish interstellar bounty hunter, or “cowboy” in the show’s parlance. A space cowboy, if you will. Market forces aside, the original Japanese anime is suffused with so much thrilling style — gaining popularity in the U.S. 20 years ago on the Cartoon Network’s nighttime programming block Adult Swim — and you can understand the urge to bring it to flesh-and-blood life.
A jazzy, snazzy, futuristic riff on neo-noir and sci-fi, with a comedic sensibility and a few grizzled spaghetti Western tropes tossed in for good measure, the show follows Spike (suave, confident, unruffled) and his partner in quippery Jet Black, played by Mustafa Shakir (burly, thoughtful, exasperated) as they cruise from one colonized planet to the next on the Bebop, a tanker of a spaceship that’s seen better days. They’re mediocre bounty hunters at best and they soon become a threesome with the addition of the tangy Faye Valentine, played by Daniella Pineda (crafty, rash, sarcastic). They are haunted by their separate pasts and are not friends so much as reluctant co-workers in space. There’s action and violence galore, with a new bounty hunted each of the 10 episodes as a larger story arc unfolds in the form of a Big Bad who threatens to take down the Bebop’s ragtaggery. The latter is a silvery-haired brute named Vicious (Alex Hassell), who Spike knew in a former life.
I’m coming into this world cold, absent any preconceptions or expectations, so I watched the new version first to gauge if it works on its own, especially for those unfamiliar with the source material (it does). Then I went back and watched the Japanese original, which is also on Netflix (handy, that). The boxy graphic design of opening credits are retained, shot-for-shot, and this actually makes sense — the swinging brass-and-bass notes of composer Yoko Kanno’s theme song all but demand it. The colors are brighter in the anime, and the episodes move at a better clip (it helps that they’re shorter), whereas the live-action feels more earthbound, not only in its look but in the way it handles the angsty back stories of our central threesome. There’s an emphasis on fight scenes, which are … fine?
The U.S. portion of the creative team are seasoned in adapting two dimensions into three; Christopher Yost’s credits include the “Thor” movies for Marvel and Andre Nemec’s include “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.” They’ve made minor tweaks to the narrative that may or may not sit well with fans who feel protective of the original — a certain hacker who rounds out the Bebop to a foursome doesn’t show up until the final moments of the last episode, portending the show’s renewal, although nothing’s been announced.
These changes bothered me less than the way the new version leans into the men-motivated-by-heartbreak trope, be it Jet and the guilt he swallows as an absentee father to his young daughter, or Spike pining for his one true love who got away. They’re battling sadness and self-loathing in the original, but it’s more overt and overworked here. These are such tired formulas and the adaptation doesn’t inject new life into them, but doubles down on their predictability. Yes, there is a child and/or damsel in distress. But just because “Cowboy Bebop” is an amalgam of genres that admittedly go to this well all too often doesn’t make it any less boring when the adaptation follows suit, as if there were no other creative choices to be made.
Even so, if you’re able to watch it with eyes unencumbered by comparisons, it’s a hoot. Spike is introduced sauntering into a casino under siege, wearing that gorgeous slouchy Armani-esque double-breasted suit, shirt collar popped, and he’s enormous fun, oozing equal parts cool and ennui. It’s a sharp contrast to Jet’s gruff practicality and Faye’s brash veneer. (The adaptation has smartly dialed back the cheesecake of Faye’s signature look; the camera isn’t so blatantly ogling her.) And then there are the colliding anachronisms, which are endlessly amusing and lived-in, portraying a future where banged up classic cars and flying machines exist side by side with backhoes and holograms.
Somehow, it all makes sense.
To borrow from the show’s sign-off: See you, space cowboy.
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'COWBOY BEBOP'
3 stars (out of 4)
Rating: TV-14
Where to watch: Now streaming on Netflix
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