It was the summer of 1993, and I had just turned 17. Every weekend, my friends and I would gather at Teddy's house for what we proudly called “movie marathons.” His place was perfect for these gatherings — it had a well-loved VHS player and a treasure trove of anime tapes, courtesy of various friends lending from their collections. However, his old TV was a bit of a diva. Every now and then, the picture would flicker out, leaving us staring at static until someone gave it a good slam on the side. Eventually, we learned that piling heavy stuff like barbell weights and stacks of books on top of the set helped keep it working — a bizarre but oddly effective ritual.
It was during one of those marathons that I first watched Appleseed — the 1988 cyberpunk anime that pulled me into its world of bioroids, utopias, and dystopian undertones. While the late ‘80s animation wasn’t groundbreaking even then, the story had me hooked. Themes of governance, morality, and the blurred line between human and machine made it unforgettable — a standout amidst the flood of anime we devoured that summer.
Yesterday, I watched it again...
The film is set in Olympus (or Olumpus, as one of the infamous typos of the film spells it), a high-tech utopian city governed by Gaia, a supercomputer, and managed by bioroid leaders. Bioroids, genetically engineered beings with limited emotions, were created to maintain peace and stability. However, this so-called utopia comes at a price: the suppression of human freedoms and emotions.
Calon (or Charon/Carron, depending on the source) Mauthner, a former police officer, has experienced this cost firsthand. His wife, Fleya (Fleia/Freya), couldn’t handle the bioroid-enforced emotional control and tragically took her own life. His grief festers into hatred for the system, making him a critical player in the unfolding conspiracy against Olympus.
The story explores weighty themes like governance, free will, and the price of perfection. It forces viewers to ask tough questions: Should utopia be pursued if it means sacrificing individuality? Are emotions a gift or a curse? Can humans coexist with their creations, or are conflicts inevitable?
The characters
While Appleseed tackles serious themes, its production is riddled with unintentional humor in the form of typos. Whether it’s Olumpus on an ID card, Olunpus in the name of the Police Department, Alart instead of Alert, or a bar named Onimal (presumably Animal), these errors give the film an odd charm. Even a tombstone misspells Christopher as Christpher. These quirks, rather than detracting from the experience, add a layer of retro nostalgia that longtime fans appreciate.
Amidst the film's heavier themes and occasional production hiccups, one of its most enduring elements is the subtle exploration of human connection.
Beyond the bioroids and political intrigue, Appleseed holds a quieter, more personal story about loyalty, identity, and what it means to care for someone unconditionally. At the heart of this is the relationship between Deunan Knute and Briareos Hecatonchires. While the film doesn’t explicitly declare their connection romantic, the undertones are undeniable — a bond forged through shared history, mutual respect, and an unspoken emotional depth.
Briareos, now a full cyborg, struggles with the loss of his human form and perhaps even parts of his identity, yet Deunan’s unwavering loyalty to him remains steadfast. She sees him for who he truly is, not what his mechanical exterior suggests. In a world grappling with questions of what it means to be human, their relationship serves as a poignant reminder that humanity isn’t defined by the body but by the heart and soul.
Their dynamic adds an emotional weight to the story, contrasting with the sterile, utopian ideals of Olympus and the utilitarian decisions of its governance. In a sense, Deunan and Briareos embody the central question of Appleseed: what is worth preserving when the line between human and machine begins to blur? Their connection answers that question in the most profound way — it’s the bonds we forge and the love we share that truly define us.
Revisiting Appleseed after so many years reminded me not just of the magic of late-night anime marathons but also why it left such a lasting impression on my younger self. It’s more than a cyberpunk tale — it’s a meditation on humanity, identity, and the fragile balance between order and freedom. Its quirks only add to its charm, making it a film that remains both entertaining and thought-provoking, even decades later.
Back then, I was captivated by the action and the cool futuristic setting. Now, as I watch it with older eyes, I find myself drawn to the deeper questions it raises about governance, morality, and the human condition.
Watching it again today also brought new ideas to mind, especially in light of the challenges we’re facing as a society. The world is grappling with declining birth rates, and humanity, it seems, is losing sight of what truly matters.
In much the same way Olympus prioritizes control at the cost of individuality, our society today seems to be trading merit and meaningful progress for surface-level appearances and performative outrage, while ignoring the larger, more pressing problems that demand our attention.
Perhaps what we need is a new kind of guide — like the bioroids in Appleseed — to help steer humanity in a better direction. Could a new race of beings, unclouded by emotion, show us how to rise above our flaws? Could they inspire us to become better versions of ourselves?
Ultimately, though, Appleseed reminds us of a simple truth: the answers may not lie in achieving perfection, but in understanding and embracing the complexity of what makes us human. It’s in our imperfections, our struggles, and our connections to each other that we find our true strength — something even the most advanced society must never forget.
Quirky and unpolished, Appleseed still shines through its philosophical depth and its ability to provoke questions about humanity, progress, and what it means to coexist with our creations. It’s not just an anime — it’s a mirror reflecting our ongoing struggles and aspirations. For all its imperfections, it remains a must-watch for anyone who loves thought-provoking sci-fi.
