I got a positive response, so here goes. Ooh. I’m excited now. I’ve been messing around with notes and drafts since last night, so I was able to write this one fairly quickly. In the next parts I’ll take a more detailed approach, but to begin with, I’ve just written something that I suppose counts as an overview (or something naff like that), which considers just what it is about Hellsing that makes it so unusually compelling. Next time, provided you still want there to be a next time, I’ll look into character, and then take a closer eye to plot and theme after that.
Should you disagree with any or all of the points I make (and I’m hoping that at least some of you will) I’d love to hear from you, so long as we can all stay civilized about it. So long as it’s polite, I don’t see any reason why some healthy debate can’t be an excellent extension of this experiment.
That said, here we go! For the sake of not being boring, I’ve tried to keep things fairly casual, with the end result being that I probably wound up having far too much fun writing this. Ah, well.
Anyway, enough talk. Here’s part one; may you enjoy.
I think it’s best to begin at the beginning, and to begin simply.
Before I start yammering on about character analysis and Hellsing’s larger thematic principle, I’m going to tackle a much simpler topic that has been bothering me for a slightly longer amount of time. Specifically, just what it is that makes Hellsing – a completely naff action comic about vampires and Nazis and explosions and guns – utterly impossible to leave alone.
Now, bear with me for a few paragraphs here. It’s going to seem like I’m insulting Hellsing for a bit at the start here, but I’m not. Mostly. I’m just setting up my point. Because . . . well, just bear with me. You can decide if you still want to kill me once I’ve finished.
Now. That said, I would like to state that Hellsing is ridiculous. Hellsing is silly. Hellsing is, dare I say it, mind-numbingly snooker-loopy. It’s a wild, contrived, hammy mess of excuses for explosions, guns, monsters, guns, drawings of cool-looking Nazi stuff, more guns, sexy lady-folk, even more guns, sexy men-folk, and, of course, an extra-large helping of guns with grenade-launchers on top.
Not that any of us are really complaining.
But the thing is, unlike most instances of fun, mindless action comics, or movies, or whatever, there is something about Hellsing that makes it impossible to look away. Something that makes us want more, and more of this, exactly this. We can’t just forget about it and move on to some other explosion-laden timekiller; for some unfathomable reason, we actually need to know what happens next to these guys specifically. Is it the characters? To a not-insignificant degree, it probably is, but that’s something I’m going to explore more in-depth next time. Right now I want to look at something that goes deeper than that, something that affects Hellsing’s very roots.
So then. What is it that makes this series so fascinating? Perhaps it’s because, contrary to how it may seem at first glance, there is method to this madness – and more of it than you might think.
What Hellsing is not is great literature. I think we can all agree on that for the most part. What Hellsing is, however, is a shockingly well-thought out, almost methodical exercise in going over the top. In all my experiences of fiction, I do not believe I have ever seen anything that succeeds in successfully upping the ante quite so much as Hellsing does.
Allow me to elaborate.
Consider what we are given within the very first chapter (or episode, or thirty minutes, depending on which version of the story you’re going by). I’m sure you all know it backwards and forwards by now, but imagine that you’re reading it again for the first time, and that you really haven’t a clue what’s going to happen next.
Ready? Welcome to the world of Dracula, some one hundred-odd years later, when the exciting field of vampire hunting is no longer limited to nervous real-estate agents and bookish old men with funny accents. Instead, taking up the mantle, we have a poorly spelt but still credibly awesome family business run by said old man’s descendants, and employing, as their secret weapon, the man (or rather, vampire) himself, Count Dracula.
(Granted the details of that last fact don’t turn up in their entirety at the very beginning, but I think it’s safe to assume that the whole Alucard/Dracula thing only counts as a last-act “twist” for those incapable of using a mirror. But I digress.)
(Granted the details of that last fact don’t turn up in their entirety at the very beginning, but I think it’s safe to assume that the whole Alucard/Dracula thing only counts as a last-act “twist” for those incapable of using a mirror. But I digress.)
Now, that’s one big-banger of a start if ever there was one. Dracula versus the vampires? Already we’ve got a fantastic premise with plenty of potential. But it doesn’t stop there, as you’ll soon find out.
Moving on, we join this intrepid team of monster hunters and their fashionable pet on A Night Like Any Other, or, to put it another way, A Night That Involves Lots of Monsters and Shooting Things. Of course, this being the start of an enthralling new series, things aren’t going to stay (relatively) mundane for long. Nope, if there’s any hope at all of the audience sticking around, we’re going to need an Inciting Incident, a very technical term which here means “The Thing That Makes the Plot Start.” And don’t worry, because we’re going to get one, too, with nary a moment to spare.
Enter Naïve-But-Resourceful And Also Smoking-Hot Police Lady. Gosh that’s a mouthful. Maybe we should call her something simpler. “Police Girl,” or something, I don’t know.
Now, because nobody wanders onto the set of a comic book and starts shooting things without being very important to the plot (usually), I think we can write it off as inevitable that our intrepid Police Girl is going to get involved in things. And by “involved in things,” I do of course mean “in the way of a really, really big exploding bullet.”
Ouch.
Well, thank goodness for Count Dracula’s somewhat morally dubious but very effective healthcare plan. Hello, now we’ve got two vampires to hunt other vampires with. And boom, that’s the beginning, just like that.
. . . And only the beginning. Because, see, ninety percent of writers wouldn’t call this The Beginning, they would call it The Entire Premise. It’s a good, solid premise, and you don’t really need much more to tell a good, solid story. You’ve got your secret, state-funded vampire-hunting black-ops team. You’ve got the posh lady-knight who runs the show. You’ve got the unhinged but (ostensibly) good vampire with guns and removable “Badass Trench Coat” and “Pimp Hat” accessories. You’ve got a young, newcomer vampire who hasn’t the foggiest clue what’s going on, because newbie viewpoint characters that we can actually sympathize with are A Good Thing. And, of course, you’ve got the evil monsters they fight on a monthly (or weekly, or bi-annually) basis.
There. That’s a comic. Silly, but good. Fun. Solid. A little bit out there, yes, but no more so than, say, fairy tale characters secretly living in New York, or a cop drama set in a city full of superheroes, or a cowboy preacher who speaks with the Word of God. You’ve got a chance to tell some good stories, and an excuse to draw a bunch of cool monsters while you’re at it. Mike Mignola would be proud. Go.
And Hirano does go, but the funny thing is, unlike what ninety percent of us would do, he keeps on going. No sooner are we all strapped in and ready for a rip-roaring, blood-and-guts romp through the wide world of vampire hunting than it turns out that Hellsing is not the only vampire hunting crew out there.
Who are the other guys? Would you believe Catholic ninja assassins from the secret thirteenth division of the Vatican and an insane, undying Irishman with a bottomless bucket of bayonets?
Well, neither would I, but that’s what it is. And you thought we couldn’t get sillier. Well, you thought wrong, mortal.
Now, the thing is, this still makes sense, in a comic book sort of way. Iscariot functions as a thematic foil to Hellsing, and on an even more tangible level Anderson is an excellent foil to Alucard himself. They reside on opposite ends of the spectrum, yet are similar enough to each other that their differences strengthen each other’s character considerably. Anderson’s insane zealotry is thrown into sharp relief by Alucard’s apathetic, playful madness, and vice-versa. Alucard turns mindless slaughter into something good while Anderson turns defense of the innocent into something evil. Where one lives to fight, the other lives to hunt, and it’s often difficult to tell which is which.
I would, at this point, refer you to Samuel L. Jackson’s wise words on the nature of comic book heroes and their arch-villains, but I like him better when he’s standing up, drinking tasty beverages, and not being directed by M. Night Shyamalan, so hopefully my explanation will suffice on its own.
Now, where was I? Oh, right. Secret agent vampires versus evil vampires and also some secret agent Catholics to give said secret agent vampires a recurring antagonistic force and also to tie things together a little bit. Fine. Good premise for a comic. And, for a while, it seems like this is the way it’s going to be. Lots of exciting vampire fights, interspersed with the occasional insane Catholic fight, so as to lend a backbone to the series and give our boys in red (and girls in yellow) a believable and regular source of conflict.
But, as I think we’ve already established, this is not enough for Hirano. No. We have to take this series, which we have already turned up to eleven, and keep going. What’s next, you ask?
Nazis. No, more than that. Vampire Nazis. I hate Illinois vampire Nazis.
In all seriousness, however, this is, proverbially, it. This is the point where the insanity threshold flies straight off the charts. You see, before, what we had was a very silly (but nevertheless grounded) rivalry-based story about good and evil and what happens when good isn’t quite good enough. A story about the sacrifices one makes to protect the innocent, and the things that are worth damning yourself for, plus some solid action bits, plenty of explosions, and enough blood and bullets to fill in all the blank spaces.
Once the Nazis get involved, however, you have the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny. With Nazis. And vampires. And Catholics. And some more vampires. All of a sudden, all that unbridled ridiculousness comes bubbling to the surface. All of a sudden, that little part of your brain that isn’t quite Willing Suspension of Disbelief, but close to it, the part that keeps your mind from babbling madly and screaming things like “That’s Count Dracula and he’s dressed like a pimp and shooting things WHAT THE HELL?” and “That’s a ninja Catholic assassin who can’t be killed for some reason WHAT THE HELL and also where does he keep all those bayonets?” switches off. And all you’re left with is pure, ridiculous insanity, filled with ridiculous and insane characters who fight each other in ridiculous and insane ways, all the time.
. . . You know, like Axe Cop. Only written by a grown man and also not a comedy.
But the crazy thing is? Somehow, it works.
But this isn’t some random fluke. Oh no. There’s a reason for this. Recall my words earlier about there being a method to the madness, and about how Hellsing, at its heart, is an exercise in going over the top. An exercise in going over the top. That’s the important phrase to remember. Got it? Peachy.
Now, this is where things get a little tricky, and when things get a little tricky, I find that analogies tend to help. What I’m going to be using for my analogy is the wonderfully insane Clive Owen movie Shoot ‘Em Up, which, if you are not aware of it (and my profound sympathies if that is the case), is an equally crazy, entertaining, over the top action-fest in which the plot boils down to nothing more complicated than “Clive Owen and Paul Giamatti shoot things; also, there is a baby.”
This does not make it a bad movie.
Quite the contrary, in fact. It doesn’t make it a good movie, mind you, but by no means is it a bad one. I could watch it over and over and still be entertained. In fact, I have done exactly that in the past and not regretted it. Why could that be? Well, it’s been said of Shoot ‘Em Up that what makes it work so well is just how far over the top it goes. Any one of the gunfights in that movie would easily be The Biggest Action Scene in a more rational film, but instead we just get more and more of them, over an over, until we have a film comprised of nothing but movie climaxes.
Hellsing does that too. The only difference is, it does it for everything. And it accelerates.
I’ve already walked you through how Hellsing does this for its basic premise. Now consider it in terms of the overall plot, and as you do, imagine that you are a bored, weapons-obsessed Japanese man who wishes to top himself with every single thing that happens.
We started with a fight against some vampires. Remember that? Well, let’s top it with a fight against a nutty, bayonet-wielding arch-enemy. Then, with nary a moment to take a breather, we escalate to having a tour bus full of monsters blow down the front gate and slaughter almost everybody inside Hellsing’s place of business. A nasty piece of work to be sure, but that means we’ve already done the Storming the Fortress plot, so the only option left? Is to do it again IN SOUTH AMERICA with an explosive cardsharp and some helicopters thrown into the mix.
Naturally.
Now at this point things are starting to really heat up, so we’ll just have to hijack an aircraft carrier. Which, of course, will elicit the only natural response from Hellsing: Sending Count Dracula to fly a spy plane to said aircraft carrier, SURF IT DOWN ONTO THE DECK, and, in the middle of the resulting inferno, engage in a duel of the fates so epic that our only frame of reference is a German opera about Hell.
I hope you’re appreciating just how deep we’ve gone into the Crazy Barrel by this point.
Now, this is where any sane author would give up and go mad, at a loss for anything left that could possibly. Not Hirano. Oh no. Hirano just bombs London flat, because how else are you going to top that aircraft carrier?
And it doesn’t stop there. Remember that meek little sympathetic viewpoint character from the beginning? The Police Girl? Well, it’s a wonder what character development can do for you. I wouldn’t make her angry if I were you. Now, since we already killed an aircraft carrier, obviously it’ll have to be a blimp this time, and, just for good measure, we’ll have her do it all by herself. And then, to top that, we can have an even bloodier, even more explosion-riddled, even more grand-epic-duel-ish assault on Home Base, just to round things out.
Then we’ll take five, after which we’ll sic an endless army of undead souls on London’s smoldering remains so they can mercilessly slaughter the other two armies that’ve taken up residence in the meantime.
I think you see where I’m going with this. Unlike other stories, which have things called beats and turning points that allow the intensity of the scenes ebb and flow, Hellsing is a steady rise of intensity, building up on itself like stairs. It’s not just the premise and the events of the plot either; it’s everything. Iscariot? One crazy Irishman becomes one crazy Irishman and his two protégés, becomes all of them plus an entire squadron of roof-hopping Catholic super-spies, becomes an entire army of mad, crusading nutcases with helicopters and giant lance-rifle-thingies. Seras’ weapons? Standard-issue police sidearm becomes an assault rifle, becomes a giant cannon capable of taking out tanks, becomes two giant cannons capable of taking out dirigibles, becomes a motherf**king flak cannon. The bad guys? From a fop and his foul-mouthed brother, to an exploding blackjack dealer to a sniper who can take out three helicopters with one bullet, to a psychotic illusionist with a scythe, to . . .
Well, you get the point.
Admittedly, there is actually precedence for this. In the world of storytelling, there is a concept known as Increasing Complications. This is the idea that all people (or in this case, vampires) are inherently lazy, and, once given a mission, will immediately proceed along the path of least resistance to accomplish it. For example, if you have a story about a man who must go on a mighty quest for a hamburger, and there’s a hamburger place right across the street from where he lives, it’s not going to be a very good story. If, however, said hamburger place is stolen by a dark and terrible wizard, and transported to the far end of a blistering desert filled with deadly untold perils, well, now you’ve got yourself a story.
So it makes sense that, when you’ve got a story about a crew of vampire hunters and the monsters they have to kill, that things are going to have to get increasingly ambitious in order to keep the story believable – especially when your MVP is functionally invincible. But all the same, there’s something unique about the way Hellsing pulls it off. Like Shoot ‘Em Up, every single scene is just a set piece for increasingly elaborate, wild, and flat-out over the top action. The details, meanwhile, rush to keep up – and in doing so, wind up causing the insanity to grow exponentially.
This is a big part of what makes Hellsing work. In fact, this is, I think, an invaluable part of what makes it so addictive – like listening to Howard Stern, a part of you sticks around out of an entranced need to know just what’s going to happen next. Unfortunately, that’s a risky situation to be in, and it’s also a part of why the ending falters and stumbles in what would otherwise be an uninterrupted climb into the heights of wild abandon.
The problem is that not much can be done once you’ve stormed London with your army of souls and completed the Great Big Showdown between the series’ two greatest arch-rivals, even for such a proven master of pushing the bill as Hirano. So instead, we get Walter’s limping, drawn-out final hours; brilliant in theory (all that violence, intrigue and mystery, just to reveal in the end that, of course, The Butler Did It) but lackluster and tedious in execution. Alucard, meanwhile, turns into a girl and talks a lot before tripping over a cat and failing to get up.
I’m not saying the ending fails entirely. Fortunately for us, things are a little better on Seras and Integra’s side of things during the final act. You can’t really top Seras putting the unspeakably satisfying smackdown on That Bitch What Killed Her Man, after all, but having her fight the same werewolf that Alucard ran away from back in the forties and tear apart the blimp that leveled London with her bare hands certainly comes close. Meanwhile, Integra and the Major’s last fight amid the flaming ruins of All That Awesome is an almost poetic climax to such an energetic tale of war, and the last Big Twist regarding what Major really is proves that can still squeeze out a few drops of insanity that will still boggle the mind even after all that has come before.
For the most part, however, the final act lacks the energy of the rest of the story, lacks that mounting, accelerating fever. And yet, for all its faults, it still remains compelling. Why? Perhaps because, in a way, it is fitting that the story should come down like that. After making our way through ten years’ worth of mounting action, we can’t really blame those left standing for being exhausted. After all is done, Integra, too tired to maintain that determined charge into battle finally allows herself to break down and begs for that simplest, most valuable of comforts – to go home. And as Seras obliges, not only do we not blame Integra, we sympathize – the story is over now, and the energy of such addictive action is at last beginning to fade. But Hellsing is not one to go quietly, and for all the shortcomings of that final act, there can be no better ending before the time-distant distant epilogue than that final, lingering image of the flaming dirigible, crumbling and smoking as the madness and the insanity burns away and lies still at last.
When all is said and done, what do I have to say about what makes Hellsing so compelling? Not much, it seems, for such a rambling piece, except to note that, in creating this tale, Hirano has been far more ambitious than we might have expected of a man who likely wanted nothing more than an excuse to draw neat guns and monsters. He has decided to very nearly do away with telling a story altogether, instead building a tower of wonderful craziness, block upon block of growing, exquisite insanity, a tower that will only stand if each brick surpasses the last. So why, then, do we keep coming back to Hellsing, time and time again?
It is because we see the man building his tower. We see the man constructing this mad, impossible thing . . .
. . . And we stay, and we watch, because we want him to succeed.
***
Good gracious. That went faster than I thought it would . . . and turned out longer than I expected. Well now. I can only hope I didn’t bore you all to death. What a terrible ending to this group that would be. And I’d feel dreadfully guilty about it to boot.
Well, anyway, let me know what you think, and feel free to argue with me all you like if you can stay civil about it. Next time, I’ll be a little more serious and a little less vague as I look into the roles different members of the cast play, and Hirano’s sense of character development . . . or, as is too often the case, his utter lack thereof. Ooh. Edgy.
Cheers and thank you, and all that lovely nonsense.