Genocidal Organ

Genocidal Organ, the final installment in the “Project Itoh” trilogy, opens on the site of a real-world massacre. A tour group idles in observance of the “Sarajevo Roses,” a memorial of resin-filled mortar fire craters marked in remembrance of the thousands of civilians who lost their lives during the six-year Siege of Sarajevo—a conflict which, to this day, stands as the longest concentrated assault of its kind in modern history. In the film, this locus of past trauma and catharsis becomes the scene of yet another atrocity, as the lives of Sarajevo’s citizens are once again indiscriminately snuffed out, this time in the immolating hellfire of an atomic bomb. This cycle of barbarism, of history continuously circling back on itself to reprise the horrors of a previous generation, is the thematic fulcrum upon which Genocidal Organ pivots.
Set between 2015 and 2022, Shuko Murase’s adaptation of the late Satoshi “Project” Ito’s debut novel follows Clavis Shepherd, an intelligence officer working at the behest of an international spec-ops unit tasked with pursuing the culprits responsible for the nuclear attack and bringing them to justice. While investigating, Shepherd learns of the elusive John Paul, a mysterious power broker whose machinations have instigated a swath of civil unrest and genocide across the world. As Shepherd’s team hunts John Paul from one war zone to the next, he begins to question the efficacy of his actions, and of whether or not the impulse for genocide is writ into the collective psyche of humanity itself.
Murase is at home with this material, being known as a director for his work in producing such intense, psychologically-driven series as Witch Hunter Robin and Ergo Proxy. The character and mecha designs of ‘redjuice,’ a pseudonymous illustrator known for their work with Ito prior to his death, translate well onto the big screen. Here, they echo the unmistakable feel of Yoji Shinkawa’s work on the Metal Gear Solid series, whose creator Hideo Kojima was something of a mentor to Ito when he was first starting out as a writer. Knowing how close the two were, it’s not that hard to see from the surface how much Kojima’s signature series went on to inspire Genocidal Organ and vice versa. Composer Yoshihiro Ike, who previously worked with Murase on Ergo Proxy series, delivers a score that fits comfortably into the mold of the typical spy action-thriller faire that’s preceded it, with plaintive piano keys, discordant synth stabs and pregnant pauses akin to the likes of Harry Gregson-Williams (Enemy of the State) or John Powell (The Bourne Identity). As far as aesthetic formalism, everything in Murase’s film gels into a cohesive, satisfying whole.
In the tried and true fashion of contemporary science-fiction, Genocidal Organ is set in a world ‘twenty minutes in the future,’ with all the terrifying uncanniness therein. It’s as if the viewer is witnessing an eerily plausible transmission from some adjacent, alternate dimension, bifurcating at some small, yet critical juncture. It’s a world where, amid Monday Night Football broadcasts and supermarket runs, augmented vision technology and commercial robotics are not only popular, but routine. Yet unfortunately, the miraculous circumstances that yielded such extraordinary advances were not enough to save its inhabitants from the ills which plague our own era. “The day [the] twin towers were lost, something inside of us changed,” Clavis says early on in the film. “The scope of our freedoms shrank in order for us to fight terror, and although the pendulum did swing back a little, the trauma of losing our peers meant that public sentiment never changed course… It’s like the whole world just decided to go crazy.” In this world, the anthemic promise of the 21st century remains irrevocably marred by the September 11 attacks, while the world at large continues to be wracked in an unending cycle of social unrest, spiritual malaise, and senseless proxy conflicts fermented by self-styled demagogues, nihilistic radicals and moneyed benefactors. Welcome to the new hell, same as the old hell.