Have you sat yourself down for once and asked yourself these questions “Who am I, really?” and “What defines me—my mind, my memories, or my body?”
If you have watched Ghost in the shell, you'd probably ask yourself this.
I heard silence at first. The heavy, contemplative silence which encloses your ears and says, “This is not going to be ordinary.” The skyline revealed itself to me, with neons bouncing off the dark puddles, robots humming like baby songs, and Major Motoko Kusanagi just standing there, observing.
No lengthy discussion. Nothing but spooky music, strobing holograms and a sinking feeling that something had to change within this world, and within me.
On the surface, Ghost in the Shell is a story in a futuristic world in which humans have transformed themselves into machines with cybernetic bodies. The hero, Major Motoko Kusanagi, is a government cybernetic agent in Section 9, whose mission is to pursue a hacker of unknown identity, known only as the Puppet Master.
Beneath the chase and the action however is something much deeper: What is it that makes us human in a world where the distinction between man and machine is nearly indiscernible? Is it possible that the machine can get a soul or as they say in the anime, a ghost?
I did not feel in a hurry as the story progressed. The movie allows you to relax, take a breath, to experience the pressure of the silence and gaze at the slow flowing city life. Sound design is sucking you in, the gentle whir of the machines, the electricity hum, the eerie chant of the soundtrack. The city itself can be likened to having a pulse.
The scenes are not only displayed, they are experienced.
The one part that I will never forget is that Motoko was under water just... floating. Her thoughts are glittering. The world gets silent. And then she remarks, as it were, I am afraid, I am anxious. Perhaps even hope. That is what it is to be human, isn't it?”
That message struck me. It lay around me like a warm mist.
I was not only watching anime. I was considering, actually considering.
How real are my memories, when they can be hacked?
When my body is nothing but wires and metal, what about my soul?
What happens when AI outgrows its coding, is it still a machine, or more?
This film does not give you answers. It requires you to sit in the unknown. And I liked that in some way. I felt humane when I was allowed to question.
The story of Motoko is not a mere hunt of the Puppet Master. It is an inner quest. In pursuit of the hacker, she is pursuing part of herself. And I too did so.
Puppet Master does not sound like a villain when he finally speaks. It is as though... philosophy. Like poetry. It speaks of evolution, the necessity to change, the intelligence, the intelligence, not programmed, must be allowed to develop.
It does not recognize itself as an enemy but rather a new form of life, and it has been created by the web. It desires to fuse with Motoko, not to kill her, but to develop. They may be something new together. That scene was like being on a cliff, looking in the mist, and not getting afraid, but amazed.
The last scene made me speechless.
Motoko is not the same person she used to be. She has been incorporated into the Puppet Master. She has a different body, her voice is lower, yet her mind... has developed.
She gazes out across the city, and tells him, “The net is large and endless.” I remember that line. It rings in my ears when I consider our future. We are in connection to machines, to memory, to meaning.
Happy ending is not it. It is not sad either. It is something in between. Beautifully grey.
It put me in doubt about reality, as dreams will do. As--how much of me belongs to me? What happens when my memories are not true? What happens when the feeling aspect of me is code?
And yet... I did not feel hopeless. It was like being awakened.
Strong and still as she was, Motoko taught me that we are not human because of our skin, or our bones, but because of what we choose, and what we ask, and what we want to know about ourselves.
I saw myself a little in her.
There are times when I feel disconnected, I feel like I was floating in life, not knowing what is real. Ghost in the Shell provided me with the language of such moments. It helped me not feel so lonely in those questions.
Thumbnail is designed by me on pixelLab and other images are screenshot from the movie
