I was there in the 90s and let me tell you, things were pretty grim. For us anime nerds, I mean. There we were, sitting around our anime clubs and cons, looking at the fandom we’d built around the science-fiction anime-boom giants of the late 70s and the 80s, realizing that those shows were gone. The Macrosses and Yamatos and Dirty Pairs had vanished, the Cobras and Captain Harlocks and Bubblegum Crisises had all popped along with the bubble economy, and as much as the retailers wished it wasn’t so, there was only one Akira. Sure, there was still plenty of anime to watch, but Japan had moved on from space opera; now everything was either high-school this or fantasy sorcerer-elf that, or somebody cooking something tasty in the middle of a forest in the middle of a Ghibli film, which, it’s fine, but there’s a specific itch that wasn’t getting scratched.
That is, not until Cowboy Bebop showed up. Crashing into our eyeballs like, yeah, like a tank, this Sunrise show absolutely changed the game, flipped the table, set the rule book on fire and ignited a series of demolition charges around the perimeter of the stadium in which the game had been played. There it was, there was the rocket sock-’em space adventure we’d been missing, built around a framework of Tarantino and John Woo, with characters that looked like human beings instead of candy packaging mascots, backed by a soundtrack of… is that jazz? Is this music for grownups? Is this that rare, almost mythical beast, a Japanese animated TV show that isn’t childish or embarrassing or pandering, a show you can show your parents? Your roommates? Your girlfriend?
It's no surprise that a stylish, action-packed anime series wearing its global pop cultural influences on its sleeve would fit perfectly into a media landscape filled with maturing cartoon fans ready for the next big thing, primed by decades of TV syndication culminating in an American cable network seemingly built just for this show. At least that's what it felt like when Cowboy Bebop premiered here in North America; like the show had been custom-built for kids who four or five years back had been hypnotized by Sailor Moon, Teknoman and Ronin Warriors, who might be growing up and away from primary-colored justice fighters, who were ready for something starring grownups with jobs and nicotine habits, ready for a Japanese animated TV series that, for once, was going to impress the hell out of their friends and relatives who might still be mocking the concept of "animation for adults."
What is kinda surprising is that a Bebop book like this hasn’t appeared sooner, and that other series haven’t had similar treatments. I'd love to see a comprehensive English-language book about, say, Astro Boy or Mazinger Z, or Gatchaman, Space Battleship Yamato, Mobile Suit Gundam, or Macross, you name it, there's a cherished cultural icon deserving of a long-form print edition overview. Somebody get busy, because Three, Two, One: Let’s Jam! is more than a book, it’s a call to action for everyone who’s filled hours, shelf space and valuable mental real estate obsessing over their favorite anime shows, a challenge to start working on your own resource guide for your own icons.
If you're hoping Three, Two, One: Let’s Jam! dissects the live-action Netflix Cowboy Bebop, well, keep hoping. While the streamer's perhaps ill-advised remake did bring the original to Netflix for the first time, Stevenson’s book deflects with the deft sidestep "coverage of such an adaptation is beyond this book's remit," a sensible position, and anyway, the book’s already six hundred and thirty nine pages long, spending more pages to discuss a Netflix version nobody liked is probably foolish.
Fans of Movie International's 80s cult super robot drama Galactic Gale Baxinger and it's ending credits song "Asteroid Blues" will be fascinated to learn, as we do in Stevenson's book, that Bebop creator Watanabe denies any connection between the Baxinger tune and the title of Bebop's first episode, a claim I simply don’t buy. Look buddy, you made an anime about outer space bounty hunters, Baxinger is an anime about outer space bounty hunters, part of a series of anime shows about outer space bounty hunters known collectively as the J9 series, which was a reference to the Sony SL-J9 Betamax... a Betamax that itself shows up in an episode of Cowboy Bebop. You say you weren’t thinking about J9 at all, huh? Sure you weren’t.
But enough about merciless J9. The fact is that Three, Two, One: Let’s Jam! is an awe-inspiring chunk of scholarship that is unique in the annals of English-language anime research, a singular achievement that is a worthy addition to any library on Earth, Mars, the asteroid belt, anywhere in the Solar System, really. Cowboy Bebop fans will be consulting this book for the details on whichever episode Adult Swim’s airing tonight, up until 2071 and beyond.
Thanks to Satoru and Telos!
-Dave Merrill
