The first thing that will probably strike you about Tokyo Ghoul is the opening. It’s a visually stunning minute and half that blends together vast, impossible skyscapes with cracked glass and twisted reflections of the main cast. It establishes this as a series about duality, about masks and, most of all, about the nature of monsters.
That opening is attached to the second episode and had I baulked at the first episodes’ unrelenting viciousness, I would have missed out on what turned out to be a supremely rich and entertaining series. It definitely isn’t my usual fare. Primarily because of that misanthropic sadism that is more or less the entirety of the opening episodes, reminding me far too keenly of clunkers like Elfen Lied or Brynhildr in the Darkness. Make no mistake though, this isn’t just self-indulgent gruesome violence, it has a purpose that goes miles beyond trying to make the series edgy and “adult”.
Back to that opening though, and the first figure you see in it is also the star of the show: Ken Kaneki who goes from a wet behind the ears university student to being forcibly thrust into the world of ghouls - flesh eating horrors in human form that stalk the shadows of the city. At first blush they bear all the hallmarks of the common interpretation of vampires: supernaturally strong, preying on humans while maintaining their own secret society. This comparison goes further when a lot of the series’ flesh eating greatly resembles blood sucking. Where the two differ though is that whereas vampires have almost always been sexual predators, the ghouls here hunt to consume, with monikers like “Glutton” and “Gourmet” to match.
The result is the same though: monsters through and through and Ken’s introduction to them is brutal and bloody and it rightly takes him a while to find his balance, thanks in part to the kindness of a ghoul who runs, what else?, a coffee shop. Ken’s unique standing means he sits in the penumbra of the ghouls’ way of life, once human and now ghoul he straddles both worlds and constantly fights against what is now his nature. So whereas others, like the caustic Touka, can control their black-eyed, beastly side, Ken is subsumed by it, losing his sense of humanity and mindlessly craving flesh.
The other element of that opening then is the reflections, so while outwardly human there is another side lurking, grievous and animalistic. It’s a point hammered home when Ken is fitted for his mask by Uta, a softly spoken man who extols the reasons and risks of ghouls blending in to human society. This is where all that bloodshed and harrowing violence is revealed to be necessary, because while the ghouls need human meat to survive, it is presented as something separate to the surgical brutalism enacted by both ghouls and humans.
Though we don’t get to see much of the “civilians” who live in a city rife with supernatural killers, what we do see are peacekeepers, “doves”, who use the ghouls’ own weapons against them, killing and maiming without provocation or knowledge of the damage they inflict. But just as they murder, so too do some ghouls, carving a bloody swathe through anything in their way. So while we see a human law enforcer as an aggressor, someone terrorising the otherwise pacifist ghouls of the 20th ward, we also see him as a dedicated mentor, wise and canny and appreciated despite his eccentricities. This means when death comes, regardless of who it is, there is meaning behind it and not just as fuel for the pathos of the other cast members but something with permanence and that leaves horror in its wake.
Behind the violence then is that juxtaposition between humanity and monster, and somewhere in between is madness and suffering. In what is undoubtedly the series greatest moment, Ken is forced to choose sides, whether to be a ghoul or to retain his humanity. His character is naturally passive which makes any lasting decision difficult; this one though is forced on him by a true monster. Someone who tortures Ken in the most barbaric of fashions, but in a grim irony, only because he himself was tortured while held captive by humans. The outcome is hinted at by that opening again, but that a monster made monstrous by humans defiles the most human of monsters has a tragic poetry to it.
It’s a shame then that that moment comes in the series’ final episode which, putting it politely, feels like hitting a wall after a breakneck chase. Although Tokyo Ghoul is satisfying thematically, it is lacking narratively. So in between all the grand notions of death and violence and personas is the very real story of humans mounting a revolt against the ghouls who have, it would seem, been ruling the roost up until then. The climactic fight doesn’t so much conclude as just stop, so Touka and her abrasive brother are left squaring off against one another just as the police force are facing down the legendary One-Eyed Owl. At least for Ken there is an emotional conclusion but as for the story, the best it can muster at the end is a shrug.
Obviously it sent fans of the series into a tizzy coming alongside news that the manga it’s adapted from is ending as well. There are rumours of a second season but even with that in mind, it’s a black mark against an otherwise very competent if highly divisive series. Divisive because although it starts somewhat familiarly - boy crushes on girl, girl almost crushes boy, boy is saved by waitress - it quickly becomes something very unfamiliar but never drops the savage, horrific violence, ending with an episode of literal torture that is as brave as it is horrifying.
It would be hard to say that I enjoyed the series, given that there is an oppressive sense of unease throughout its entirety and even the on-air censorship won’t help the squeamish, but I did appreciate what it achieved. It is deceptively well put together, both visually with its autumnal skies, crumbling ghettos and Alice in Wonderland-esque malls, and thematically, showing the humanity in beasts and horrors in humans. So from that first helicopter shot over Tokyo to those blood drips turning white flowers to red spider lilies I was equal parts gripped and fascinated by Tokyo Ghoul. The story, for once, I could take or leave because Ken’s arc, his transformation, feels complete so a second season would likely assuage old manga fans and newly minted anime fans alike, but even without it this series is compelling, if not entirely consistent.
