I like anime a lot. I think the animation of many Japanese animators is startlingly beautiful. And yet, I don't go to an anime film (at least primarily) because of the medium. In other words, I generally am attracted to anime films and shows not because of the art but because of the narrative. That's not to say, of course, that often I "come" for the narrative and stay for the "art." As I watch Ghost in the Shell, it's difficult to even separate these two sources of pleasure: (1) the cyberpunk alternative future and scenarios being related and (2) the beautiful artwork and cinematography that brings it alive.
With that said, I don't have much to say about the style of the film, other than that I think, stylistically speaking, the film is gorgeous. I do want to share some thoughts, some meandering associations, that emerged as I considered what I think are some of the themes of the film.
A major technology in the narrative is the ability for computer hackers to "hack" brains, to erase memories from human brains, and to introduce new memories into them. In this framework the brain becomes a kind of computer hardware and, accordingly, all of our experiences and personality and memories (our ghost, if you will) becomes a kind of software.
I find this concept of the soul-as-software very intriguing. Some of what I've read has inclined me to be suspicious of this concept of soul-as-software. And yet, I find the idea intriguing nevertheless. Why so? Hmm...
In this framework of soul-as-software, who you are has become figured as a "quantity" of data. What does that mean? It means that the singularity that is you or I is something that is simply pointed to through a complicated chain of "in not this, then this," or binary logic. We become so many 1's and 0's. It's strange to think about a soul like that, as if it is so many "bits" of information. I struggle with this idea because I'm inclined to believe we're constantly changing, ever-evolving. This idea of the soul-as-software suggests, it seems, that at any given time we can be "carbon copied" or isolated as existing in a stable state. We all know that old adage that goes something like this: "we live and die every second." In other words, we're constantly in a state of creation and recreation. The film seems to suggest this isn't the case. Let me explain.
In the film there's a trash guy who gets hacked and his memories are erased; accordingly, he gets an entire new "software" installed on his brain. He comes to believe he has a wife and a daughter when in fact he's a bachelor. When he finds out all of these memories were artificial--when he finds out his entire personality was illusion--he cries. I find this one of the most interesting moments in the film. But it gives me pause. It makes me raise a series of questions:
(1) If all of our memories are erased and nothing in left in their place, what does that leave us as? A instinct-driven animal? A zombie?
(2) If our soul is a kind of software that may or may not be downloaded onto computers (let's imagine the technology exists), on what basis can we claim that it has authenticity over, say, an artificial and synthesized set of memories? In other words, when souls become software, on what basis can we claim that this soul as authentic and that soul as artificial?
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