City The Animation Episode 12 English Dubbed Recap
Okay, let’s unpack this. We’re looking at some material today that’s uh our viewers aren’t getting any narrative anarchy. Oh, absolutely. It’s this high-speed collision. You’ve got philosophical ideas bumping right up against, you know, extreme emotional stakes and then wham, a horse is secretly a robot. Exactly. It just whips you back and forth. One second. about the meaning of life or whatever the next unadulterated look in the mirror when you say that I know how to have fun without you. That’s what we need to figure out today. How does this control chaos actually work? How does it use that extreme contrast? You know, the high drama followed instantly by keep us engaged without overwhelming us. It never let you settle into a pattern. It feels like a trick, a really elaborate narrative trick. And hopefully by the end of our chat, you’ll see exactly how it’s pulled off. But what strikes me is how it treats everything with the same level of uh intensity like a monumental event. Say the city gold cup race, but then it gives the exact same breathless focus to something incredibly mundane like a character just describing how they drink water in the morning. Yeah, it’s that plat effect, isn’t it? No sense of It’s the ultimate study of what you call narrative chaos. Please help me out up the newest edition of it with something even more ridiculous. Oh yeah, it’s the subscription pack. Start trying to untangle this. I think we can break it down into maybe three core themes or pillars that hold this whole kind of nervous absurd structure. First, there’s this idea of low stakes amition guaranteed ears against it. Then we absolutely have to talk about the sentiment total glorious destruction. It’ll be a miracle miracle. You snake. Besides, what the hell did you say? And finally, there’s this undercurrent. This desperate search through the magazine. Simple immediate repeatable. Broccoli. Could that be any more boring? Don’t you know a way to express your identity? What do you know about identity? Have one. Calm down. I’m subjective. One right answer. So, what kind of photo did you send in? Well, actually, right out of the gate. Yeah, I think I’ve got a pretty good chance. Old hard fact. Here it is. Our worship members aren’t getting after a female rhino. It’s so relatable, isn’t it? Putting in the effort. Legendary living creature. It’s really Oh, no way. But didn’t you send us to the wrong place? That reality is feeling. It definitely went to the right place. Filming is so fun and that tension is key. You have the external quantifiable failure. Bad numbers are the internal experience. I have a great immediately. No matter who wins the prize, we split it three ways because there’s no way you’re going to exactly the text doesn’t really give you any presents the content. Then Waco’s definition of fun comes in and it’s like I keep saying when asked for fulfillment. Well, this part is amazing. He says, “I wake up in the morning, give myself a drink of water, then I brush my teeth.” But if Nico wins, she plans to keep it all to herself, right? It’s almost too much information, isn’t it? So mundane, but it’s crucial. I think it shows the range of what these characters that baseline. Summer clearly run. Damn it. He finds his satisfaction in sheer. Now let’s open it, shall we? Just the ritual of existence. It’s almost zen. So pretentious. It tells us everyone seeking something. But those things range from, you know, epic goals like 600 million yen down to just water and a toothbrush. Okay. So where does that competitive in its own absurd way? the photo content. I did it. We shift from existential career dread straight to holding the latest Mikai camera. Feel serious for a second. Yeah. Like a genuine artistic pursuit, identity, expression, all that. The ambition feels real. But the way they approach it, it’s immediately undercut. Naguma, who feels like our main guy here, he’s instantly told, “It’s guaranteed yours won’t be in there, so relax.” Just dismissed up front. Classic narrative bait. declare failure right at the start and suddenly you the audience are invested. You want him to win against the odds and the photos themselves. Nagumo is just broccoli. Yep. Just broccoli. And the critique of his presence broccoli is no way to express your identity. So high. It’s brilliant though, isn’t it? It’s such a sharp little jab at how we pile meaning on art. There’s pressure to inject identity into absolutely everything. Totally. Like maybe sometimes broccoli is just broccoli. Exactly. That critique implies this need for deep meaning where maybe there isn’t any. But then the counterpoint is even better. Oh, Mika’s entry. Okay. Numo’s broccoli seems almost horrible compared to this. Right. Miker is submitted. I still struggle with this line. A sushi after praying on a female rhinoceros beetle. A preying sushi roll focused on a beetle. The reaction is just what the heck is that? and super defensive calls a legendary living creature. This is that core theme again. The second things get serious or pretentious. Something utterly ridiculous comes in a serious quest for anything. Precisely. And they don’t even know. Money, of course. Forget the art. Forget the Beatles. It immediately shifts to cynical bargaining. No matter who wins the prize, we split in three ways. All that artistic integrity just evaporates on yourself. They haven’t won. But they’re already playing. Uh you can keep dreaming because there’s no way they’re going to choose yours. The claws come out instantly. They’re just looking for that shortcut. Straight to the 600 million yen goal. Bypass everything else. And that argument over how to split the prize equal shares versus winner take all just shows the competition itself is secondary. It’s all about the potential cash. The arc judging irrelevant. It’s a financial fantasy. So, we have this intense buildup, the artistic pretensions, the insults, the weird photos, the frantic negotiation over prize money, and then the big reveal. Open the magazine. What does it say? Who won? Nothing. It’s totally non-answered. They just stare at the page with the cues shouting, “Huh?” Huh? Heat. Heat. Heat. Like the weather. Yeah. Just some vague ambient description of summer. No winter. No mention of broccoli or the fraying sushi. This one that’s like a narrative system crash. It completely underscores the futility of their ambition. All that emotional energy flow into confusion. But why do you think that’s just random or is there something more there? I think it’s commentary. It’s the very thing they’re looking to for validation. The magazine media is basically empty, vacant. It’s not even rejecting them. It’s just ignoring them in favor of background. Right. their whole search for artistic identity. The money just gets swallowed by complete apathy. Bleak actually. And it sets up the next part perfectly, doesn’t it? Failed at controlled artistic effort. So naturally, they pivot to something completely uncontrolled, chaotic, and arguably even more meaningless. Highstake sport. Okay, here’s where it gets really interesting. Buckle up. The move from the photo to the City Gold Cup is just immediate and wild. It is a master class in tearing down the founded American destruction, but it starts conventionally enough, right? Totally. High stakes language, city gold cup, overwhelming odds, and we get the fan fasy death machine of 1.1. Textbook setup. We’re all set for a classic race narrative. Underdog story maybe, or the champ proves why they’re the champ. Nope. Pre-race chaos kicks in instantly. Before they’re even called to the post, there’s a real scuffle of horses bashing into each other, jockeys flying, and then that incredible detail that just sets the tone. Yarnbo has bitten Sonbo right. O yeah biting. You’ve gone from broccoli identity politics to eco wine violence and place chaos. Swing open suddenly swan over open just now before the call to post sound. That should be it, right? False start. Reset order thing. But no, the commentator with absolute conviction declares they’ve all somehow come together to make an orderly and somehow just because the announcer says so. It’s like structure is just an illusion maintained by an illusion. But that illusion doesn’t last Death Machine the robot spoiler drama mid race. Breaking news. Sombo and Yambo are disqualified reason failing to follow protocol a bureaucratic penalty. The announcer calls it tragic. The reaction to the disqualification, that’s where the experience happens. The description is the reason it’s so ridiculous. Each one eched with pain and sacrifice. They’re losing bedding. Yeah. Why do penalty such beautiful flowery almost romantic language? It feels completely out of place. It’s absolutely intentional. It elevates the penalty itself, makes the loss feel epic. The announcer even calls the scene elegant, then immediately corrects himself. In fairness, it is far too gruesome to call it elegant. Oh, even the commentary can’t keep up with its own melodrama. The sky literally gets darker from the black clouds of these discarded tickets. It’s signaling that the emotional stakes of the bureaucracy are actually higher than the race itself. Okay, but hold on to your hats because just when you think protocol might mean something. The dramatic resurrection. Zombo, the disqualified horse, the one whose tickets were sacrificial pedals, suddenly surges back into the race. And the justification is unbelievable. The announcer just says completely dead pan. Sombo was previously disqualified, but since it’s clearly trying its best, we have allowed it to rejoin the race. Trying its best. That’s the new rule. That one line is still being obliterates the entire concept of competitive structure. All eight horses will compete in today’s meaningless if you just look like you’re putting in the effort. The crowd goes wild. They’re literally throwing booze onto the track in celebration. Sonbo gets an official scar of honor. The rule book isn’t just set on fire and dancing. So now the rules are done. We got the ultimate showdown. Easy death machine. The favorite versus the resurrected rule breaking tryard underdog. They’re heading into the final uphill stretch. This is it. Classic sports movie climax. Tension building. Easy death machine makes it move. A dizzying blur of hoes. We’re braced for the finish line and it crashes straight into the iron fence. Not just a stumble, a fullon catastrophic failure. And then the reveal. Oh, the reveal. All kinds of wires fly from his broken leg, springs from his mouth, life out of his eyes, easy death machine, overwhelming favorite robot. The entire foundation of the race, the betting, the odds, it was all built on a piece of machine. It just reframes everything. Was this cheating? Was it known? What does a win even mean if your main competitor wasn’t even alive? It’s like a common on spectacle itself. Maybe the thing with the biggest hype 1.1 odds. It’s just mechanical fabricated soulless perfection that inevitably breaks. Okay, robot down. Wires everywhere. Surely Sombo takes it down. Sombo crosses the line. Incredible victory. Jumps with unbelievable height. The crowd is ecstatic. Underdog prevails. The referee steps in. There’s another foul. Of course there is the final definitive absolutely insane disqualification because wait for it has unfortunately turned out to be a gazelle. So the race was between a robot and a gazelle. Unbelievable. The favorite was mechanical. The appar winner was the wrong species. are growing. The commentator even admits, “I did find it strange to have fun in the science, but everyone was too caught up in the drama from a disaster.” So all that emotional investment, the rope fighting, pedal tickets, robot crash, road, it was all for a race between a machine and it failed. The hero was repeat. So who actually super cali barely mentioned that just ran the race quietly without any quiet one wins by default because it wasn’t right on it. What happens if meaningless real winner is the one who just functioned after all spectaces forward next? We’re already familiar with this horse’s name. Right after the gazelle revelation, we pivot again. We abandon sport. We need a character with this terrifying power. They can erase all of your memories just by touching you. That’s huge. Memory is identity. Losing your memories usually make the climax of tragedy. But here, it’s play for a quick gag. Someone doubt that coming from behind with an official honor. What a spectacular resurrection. But then you were rushed to do something. Here at City Racing, dramatic glorious comeback. You never know what might happen. This is exactly what makes horse races. So you’ve just seen someone’s entire past wipes. Now the front back is approaching the corner to go get a drink. Still first grabbing for immediate sensation is the only way to cope when reality is that fraction just flows seamlessly from memory eraser. In a battle for victory is making it move. It’s a dizzying blur of whose jury charging toward the finish. A comeback like we’ve never seen. Maybe a photo finish here. The race is full of easy death machine. The repetition at one point could be it folk, but he crashes straight into the iron. That is a terrifying sound. All kinds of wires fly. They even get philosophical about it claiming the flavors intensifying the delicious eggs make the sick the better sick make the eggs station. It’s this intense focus on micro details of seeking perfection not in fame or victory but in the perfect sense. And then they drop that present philosophy right in the middle of don’t dwell in the past and don’t worry about the future. Right now is a gift. That’s why they call it the present wisdom. About half a second because the very next line completely contradicts it. I’m sad for the future. truly a wild ride. The grand philosophy collapses instantly under the weight of running. The fear of future loss totally overrides the joy of the present gift. They just can’t hold on to the big idea when faced with small immediate scarcity. And that contradiction is the engine, isn’t it? Grand ambitions fail, leading to obsessive focus on small pleasures. But even those small pleasures are fragile, haunted by the fear they’ll end. Which brings us, I guess, to the last big attempt at fulfillment we see. trying to lock in future through magic. The wishing on shooting stars and again the rules are just needlessly complicated and specific. Nigumo lays it out. You have to say your wish. My goodness. You haven’t gone overseas yet. Twice three times. High stakes arbitrary. The hell is this classic? The initial wish claimed is so noble. World peace, right? And the immediate reaction is perfect. So lame. Since when are you such a saint? Calls out the facade instantly. Because the real wish, the honest wish that bubbles up is the one that drives everything in this chaotic world. My lifetime of free meals gone. Forget peace, forget fame, forget art. The ultimate reliable ambition is just free food forever. It’s the only goal we can actually trust in this narrative. Simple, dependable sustenance. But of course, in keeping with the theme of futility, even that simple selfish wish gets denied. The shooting stars stop before they can get the third repetition in. The attempt to bend the cosmos for free food fails, just like the photo contest, just like the horse race for the main characters. But does the failure stop the ambition? Nope. The character just shrugs it off and immediately restates the long-term goal. I’ll keep trying [Music] and immediate gratification. What? Come on, fill me in. Chaos and failure. Got no choice, do I? Fine. I’m going to let you all quite a ride the ability from uh identity crisis all of your memories funes gazelle winners instant memory for the philosophy of delicious sake it’s incredible range of just a pleasure to meet you is to see the operating system behind it how this narrative style works by making tiny things feel huge tasting the emotional stakes of the insignificant and simultaneously neutralizing the actual stakes of the big things like a championship race or losing your entire past, it deflates the monumental. So it means expectations are just constantly being set up to be knocked down. It’s all a setup for a joke. Yeah. The second you think you understand the rules, whether it’s race protocol or how memory works, the narrative just yanks the You can’t rely on structure. can’t rely on drama for any kind of stable resolution. It just keeps shifting. And if you connect that memorable and welldeserved summer vacation, this text field is a pretty good model for how information often flows today, doesn’t it? How so? Well, think about scrolling through news or social media. The highintensity stuff changes super fast and often it just ends on something completely random or absurd. You go from a major global event to a cat meeting in seconds and the emotional energy spent trying to cut the focus on that immediate hit that quick sensation not necessarily on last savor intensify not getting too invested in every single part. So don’t get too attached to the robot. That’s so carried away. I wound up outside. The quiet thing. You’re apologizing. Why are you apologizing? Why? Because I’m about to kick things up then is that constant chase for deliciousness. Don’t dwell on the past and don’t worry about the future. Right now is a gift. That’s why they call it the present. I’m sad. It’s all about chasing that next. What kind of idiot is already upset about finishing a drink before he even drinks it? Now, let’s get to the accurate view of this stuff. If objective reality can delicious delicious delicious delicious delicious Oh, what is it this time? Careful there. We might not forgive you this time. No, you don’t. Your own life amidst all the noise and speared. What’s your special secret weapon? Quiet perhaps mundane functional moment that actually succeeds that keeps going while all the flashy dramatic stuff burns out or I don’t know how we’ll ever really cross. I can’t believe I almost forgot. If you would tell me where you taste the differences. If it’s not delicious, I will never forgive you. More threads. It’s delicious and therefore this is delicious, too. Does this delicious fish make the sake taste even better? Or perhaps it’s the even more delicious sake that makes the fish taste even better again. And now it’s finally time for ta. Bam. More sake. Hey. Hey, you mustachioed for eyes. What are you planning once we’re sloded? It’s a secret. It’s over. We are so dead. However, it is delicious. Is there such a thing as bad sake in this world? Oh, all right. Let’s just try it. Delicious. Wo wo wo wo. These guys have been doing this the entire day. They’re just drinking sake and saying delicious. There must still be a bit more left. I got to try some for myself. Delicious. Wait, hang on a sec. I only had a sip. I still can’t tell whether it’s really delicious or not. Delicious. Tell me there’s more of this sake left. Oh, hey Nagamo. We’re currently enjoying our summer break, so there’s no work for him. Don’t care. One sucking here, by all means. Sipski, it’s delicious. Delish. Delish. Delish. I thought there might be a better word than delicious, but saying delish while drinking it is about the most delicious thing ever. Once you start spouting fancy words about sake, it’s all over. Well done. Come on. The next round’s on me. Want to try that restaurant we talked about? Cafe Yamabushi. If you buy, I’m down. We can go anywhere you want to. You okay? Wa. Did you say an o? What’s up? Oh, or maybe an oath a lot. Whoa. May I live my life without hardship. May I live my life without hardship. May I live my life without hardship. Oh yeah, my life is set now. You’re such a ding-dong. There’s no way something like that will come true. Hey, I know that. Why’ you bring logic into it? Listen up. You have to say your wish three times per shooting star. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t know that. I forgot. You’re so pure. Okay, here goes. I wish I wish I That’s a bulldo mission. Doesn’t matter. The wish is in here. All that’s left is to rely on the stars. Now, this is the ultimate technique to have your wish granted instantly. The Nagamo method. If that’s all it takes, life would be too easy. But what if it does come true? The likelihood of that is zero. By the way, can I ask you what you wished for? Well, if you must know, world peace. So lame. Since when are you such a saint? Huh? I mean, what are you trying to do? Make my wish look dumb? Tell me again. You want a trouble-free life? Was that it? Shut up. Um, Nagamo, what’s up? Waco, I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think your wish for world peace will come true. There haven’t been any more shooting stars since the one we saw. Crap. My lifetime of free meals gone. That was your real wish. Who cares? I’ll keep trying till I get those free meals. 600 million yen and then be pimpered until I croak. Ew, so greedy. [Music] Don’t make a sound. Not a single solitary sound. I wish. I wish. I wish. 39 seconds. Wait, it’s still there. [Laughter] It’s a UFO. [Music] [Applause]
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