Power Ewes: Gigamon Action Go! was an action-comedy series produced by Yakonoko Animation, with two seasons released from 1993 through 1995. Read Dr. Lee's first dispatch for details.
Despite the official account of the show’s two-season production, Dr. Lee found a credible source, Middleton Police Chief Harry Thompson, who claims that a third season was privately screened for personnel at the Yokota Air Base in 1996 at the latest. Read Dr. Lee's second dispatch for details.
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Dr. Elara Lee, noted expert on the Sleeping Android, writes:
My initial hypothesis was that Chief Thompson must have conflated his memories of Power Ewes with plotlines from another show, perhaps also incorporating news reports he’d seen of lead animator Ichika Miura’s death in the tragic truck-related accident that ended her life at age 19. Decades later, under the stress of an Android manifestation in his hometown, Chief Thompson seems to have surfaced the false memory of an animated Ichika Miura resurrected into the unproduced third season of her own show.
If I’d wanted to, I might have buttressed that already-plausible explanation with any number of case studies on false or implanted memories. But doing so would have required me to ignore numerous loose threads along the edges of the Power Ewes story.
Power Ewes was a sheep-themed anime with giant robots, a motif that inevitably leads back to the Sleeping Android and its Cyberlam dreams.
In fact, Chief Thompson had insisted that the dream-yokai in the unaired third season had been called Cyberlams.
And over the years, the Power Ewes series has been deleted from database listings, erased from recorded media, and pulled from the minds of viewers in a manner that defies a conventional explanation, at least in this investigator’s humble experience.
As Manga-chan might say, these things weren’t making snense.
Gentle reader, I believe there are moments in this life when our comfortable worldview is threatened by inconvenient facts. In such instances, the human mind naturally reaches for rationalizations like a drowning human body reaches for a life preserver. We tend to grab for the biggest, closest, and most obvious answers that present themselves, even if we can feel the wrongness and inadequacy of them in our bones. So long as they return us to our previous equilibrium, we are willing to endure a bit of cognitive dissonance.
I’ve grabbed onto dozens of such life preservers in my time and I’m still clinging tightly to most of them. However, since my first exposure to the endlessly implausible Sleeping Android phenomenon, I have developed a sense of when to bypass the easy explanation, reject all life preservers, slip beneath the waves, and let my metaphorical lungs fill with deeper truths.
When the Middleton Manifestation resolved, or more accurately, when the situation reached a stage that no longer required my constant attention, I shifted my efforts into the mystery of Power Ewes.
Chief Thompson had no further memories to report. In fact, he no longer seemed able to recall the prior details he’d shared with me just a week before.
[EXCERPT BEGINS]
LEE:
Do you remember when we previously spoke about Power Ewes?
THOMPSON:
I remember talking to you about something while all that Android madness was going on, some pleasantries and a bit of small talk, but we didn’t cover anything important. Power Ewes? Is that some kind of feminist biker gang?
LEE:
Power Ewes was an anime series. You told me you’d watched it in Japan when you were stationed to Yokota?
THOMPSON:
Still drawing a blank. There were some guys back there who were into all that girl-on-robot action, but I only ever went to those screenings out of boredom. I don’t remember any details of whatever I watched.
LEE:
Big-eyed schoolgirls with sheep-like ears and horns? Battle giant robots? Power Ewes. You said you developed a crush on one of the characters because she seemed so real. How could anyone forget that?
Here, I’ve printed out a transcript of our last conversation.
[The sound of flipping pages.]
[A guffaw.]
[More flipping pages.]
[The sound of a paper stack sliding across the surface of a table.]
You’re shaking your head. Are you telling me none of this rings a bell?
THOMPSON:
This quotes me as saying things I don’t remember saying. That’s a sign of insanity.
LEE:
You think you’re going crazy?
THOMPSON:
No, Doc, but I’ve been asking around about you and your…reputation. They say you’re obsessed and a bit of a laughingstock in academic circles. Are you capable of forging a transcript like this? Maybe. I’d say that’s still to be determined. But if you do pursue this any further, keep my name out of it.
LEE:
I do have a bit of a reputation. But no matter what anyone thinks about me, even my detractors would agree that I’m the first person anyone should think to call upon finding a giant Sleeping Android in the wild.
My interest is uncovering evidence, Chief, not forging it.
[EXCERPT ENDS]
And there you have it, another item to scratch off my bucket list: I’ve officially become an unreliable narrator!
Gentle reader, you could be excused for questioning my sanity, as could Chief Thompson, last seen reaching for a metaphorical life preserver buoyant enough to float 300 pounds of world-weary cop.
If you also value reputation over truth, now would be the perfect time for you to put this dispatch aside, reach for a floatation device, and doggie-paddle your way back to shore. I won’t judge you. In fact, I’ll be the first to defend your absolute right to dismiss all things beyond your understanding as the misguided ramblings of a crazy mind. You do you, live your life in a narrow lane, and retain your health and sanity.
But if you choose instead to dive onward with me into the depths of this phenomenon, know that you do so at your own risk, with that risk being the very real possibility of widening your understanding of the cosmos and uncovering some disturbing truths.
If you among those who haven’t already thrown this dispatch into a fire, let us now follow the evidence onward, wherever it leads.
Through my contacts in Japanese animation fandom, I located a Kyoto man who claimed to be the only archivist who still owned two complete seasons of Power Ewes on LaserDisc, an antiquated format that he also has the equipment necessary to display.
This man, an apparent paragon of anime intel, goes by the moniker of Ataru69, with the “Ataru” part being a tribute to the lecherous protagonist from the Urusei Yatsura series and the “69” part being his apparent age.
[EXCERPT BEGINS]
ATARU69:
You came all the way from America just to see little old me? I have to say, I find that very sexy.
LEE:
I came to see your Power Ewes episodes, and do you mind if I record our conversation?
ATARU69:
Not at all. Dozo, step this way and try not to topple any of the stacks of manga. I have them in a reverse chrono-thematic order that’s very difficult to reconstruct.
In here. Do you mind if I also record our conversation?
LEE:
Oh my. Just how many cameras do you have in this room?
ATARU69:
Five cameras. Well, five obvious cameras. They’re for a documentary I’m filming on American academic researchers who invent pretexts to drop in on elderly otaku.
Sit on the bed and we’ll…talk. Your interest is in young cartoon furries of the 1990s, ne?
LEE:
My interest is in the Power Ewes series. Only that. You said in your email that you had a full set of episodes on LaserDisc?
ATARU69:
So desu. What you see before you is the last known set of such discs in Japan, and probably in all the world. Nobody else seems to remember Power Ewes at all. In fact, I forgot about them myself until I happened to spot these discs on the shelf.
LEE:
Do you often forget about the rare and valuable items in your collection?
ATARU69:
I don’t remember all the things I don’t remember, so that’s a silly question. When I glimpsed of these discs, I immediately remembered the show and realized your inquiry about it on the listserv wasn’t just some made-up thing you were trolling about after all. Memory is weird, ne?
LEE:
Ne.
ATARU69:
I won’t distract you from your Power Ewes viewing pleasure. It’s a very special show, but it will require all your attention to understand why.
But I will be holed up in the next room, preparing some scented oils, in case there are any other pleasures you might be interested in.
LEE:
Ew.
[EXCERPT ENDS]
Ataru69 showed me how to load the discs and operate the antique LaserDisc console, then left me on my own in a room with a viewing nook, five obvious cameras, and a bed.
Such are the things one must sometimes endure for one’s research.
I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, although Ataru69 clearly expected me to find some specific revelation. The complete Power Ewes collection consisted of two 13-episode seasons with the second being a compilation of aired episodes and direct-to-video exclusives.
It took nearly ten hours to binge the episodes, which I was resolved to do in order to eliminate any possible reason to return for a second visit to the home of Ataru69.
The LaserDiscs and their player showed their age by overlaying digital artifacts, random noise, and scrolling bars of color over most of the footage. Most, that is, with the exception of a vital minute-or-so in the middle of each episode.
The animation showcased Ichika Miura’s unique style while ultimately betraying her youth and inexperience as a lead animator. The result was every bit as repetitive and cringey as the old reviews had said.
Except…
Something about the power-up sequences elevated them above the rest of the episodes. In contrast with the rest of the footage, these minute-or-so scenes were sharp and modern in their feel.
More strangely, as the girls transformed from their civilian to Power Ewe identities in these minute-or-so clips, the digital snow cleared away from the screen like a curtain of age being lifted to reveal images as fresh as the day they were first lasered onto their aluminum platters.
Only one expert was available with whom I could discuss my findings, so I reluctantly called Ataru69 back into the room, although I insisted he leave his oils outside the door.
[EXCERPT BEGINS]
ATARU69:
The power-ups, hai, I was wondering if you’d catch that. Maybe you’re not the anime n00b I took you for after all.
LEE:
How do you mean?
ATARU69:
Magical girl transformations are a genre of their own. They’ve evolved over decades from the simplicity and innocence of Sally the Witch and her ilk in the 1960s, with a shift toward greater expressions of character in the 1970s, the over-the-top glamor and pop of that arrived in the 1980s, and the 1990s themes of empowerment and team dynamics seen in such classics as Sailor Moon.
LEE:
Power Ewes is a team-based anime from the mid-90s. So you’d call it fairly typical for its time?
ATARU69:
Hai, so desu, but also no.
The Power Ewes transformation sequences show a complexity that only developed with the adoption of CGI. A camera in constant motion, animated background elements, 3D shapes with lights, shadows, and reflections like we only begin to see in magical girl transformations of the early 2000s.
Such marvelous detail and realism would have been impossible for artists to have drawn and painted on cels in 1995. Even with today’s software, recreating these transformations would be ambitious and high-budget.
LEE:
From what I’ve read, Yakonoko Animation wasn’t exactly known for technological innovation.
ATARU69:
Yakonoko made The Great Cheesecake War! Stop-motion slices of cheesecake sliding off plates to fight against other slices of cheesecake? You could watch them melt under the studio lights—that was what cheap crap Yakonoko was known for in 1995.
Power Ewes had no budget and no staff. The quality could only have been horrible, except that the transformation sequences are works of art, decades ahead of their time.
LEE:
These scenes were reused from episode to episode. Wouldn’t it only make sense for Ichika Miura to put more work into them than the rest?
ATARU69:
That’s the craziest part. Every frame of every transformation sequence is unique across the entire Power Ewes series! I’ve checked them all against each other. There are subtle differences in the angles, backgrounds, and sequencing. Even the music is different. One swelling orchestral score? Okay. But a different orchestral score for each episode’s transformation sequence? Who does that?
It’s like realizing the Mona Lisa hides 25 variants, painted by Leonardo DaVinci and shoved behind the main image, each equally unique and brilliant.
It just doesn’t make sense!
LEE:
I’ve read reviews of the series, every one of them I could find, and none of them mentions the transformation sequences being anything special.
ATARU69:
There can be only one explanation.
LEE:
Which is?
ATARU69:
People in 1995 were all stupid and failed to recognize Ichika Miura as the greatest artistic genius of her generation, one who chose to concentrate all her talent on magical girl transformation sequences of a series nobody remembers!
LEE:
Or…
ATARU69:
Or what?
LEE:
You said that magical girl transformations evolved over the decades. What if each of these sequences have been evolving on the disc, year after year, becoming better and more complex over time? They’d have started out ordinary in 1995, but they’ve had the time to evolve into the masterworks we see today.
ATARU69:
I’m not wasting my scented oils on a crazy person. I think you should leave now.
[EXCERPT ENDS]
Gentle reader, I tossed Ataru69 a life preserver and left him alone to worship at the altar of Ichika Miura’s genius—at least until he inevitably blinks too long and forgets all about her again. But if you’re still on the path of truth with me, a future dispatch will continue our descent into the depths of the Power Ewes ocean.
To be continued in Part 4...
