Aptly enough, Alien Nine’s near-future story begins with a cruel twist of elementary-school democracy, as meek sixth-grader Yuri Otani is elected an “alien fighter” by the rest of her class, not because she’s an ideal choice or eager for the task, but because no one else wanted the job. The poor girl is terrified, especially when she’s required to wear on her head an alien “borg,” which resembles a winged, toothy, and sentient tadpole. The other alien-hunting students don't encourage her; sunny overachiever Kasumi Tomine is too busy enjoying her duties to care about others, and the less enthusiastic Kumi Kawamura joined the club to avoid being bothered by classmates like Yuri.

As the girls rollerblade around the school grounds in search of aliens, it becomes clear that Yuri isn’t cut out for the task. The creatures infesting the hallways and playgrounds range from scuttling spider-crabs to headless bull-like monsters, yet Yuri invariably shrinks from any challenge, relying on Kumi or Kasumi to save her. Little help comes from the adults of Alien Nine, as teacher Megumi Hisakawa is uttery careless toward her students, Yuri’s mother is distant and her father unseen, and the school principal seems preoccupied with some greater threat that’s never quite specified. Only Yuri’s closest friend, Miyu, offers any support, and she’s unable to help Yuri confront her inadequacies.

Those inadequacies are brought up time and time again, conveyed through director Jiro Fujimoto’s smoothly animated clash of not-quite-lighthearted school events and darker moments. The confrontations with aliens have a sharp intensity, and other scenes, such as a shot of a naked Yuri cringing as her borg licks the sweat from her back, are harrowing in more subdued ways. This focus seems savagely realistic at first, but it gets a bit old as the series continues, as Yuri’s inevitable breakdowns have few repercussions. Why would someone so frail be allowed to continue as an alien fighter when she’s clearly endangering the lives of her teammates? And why does she have to cry like this?

And why is she drinking her own tears?

If this seems kitschy or disgusting, Alien Nine is not for you. If, on the other hand, you can look upon poor helpless Yuri and still find a shred of sympathy for her, there’s something of value within this series. I’m in the latter camp; I swiftly grew tired of Yuri’s whining, but I still rooted for her, even when she was sobbing with relief as Kumi and Kasumi came to her birthday party. Yes, she cries when she's happy. Alien Nine hates you.

Merciless as the tale is, it sticks with the basic instabilities of the three girls. The post-Evangelion era has led some to regard anything that’s psychologically brutal as deep, yet Alien Nine wastes too much time introducing the insecurities of its cast, seldom breaking past the innate fears of adolescence. The series, to my chagrin, covers only part of the storyline seen in Hitoshi Tomizawa’s unfinished manga series, and thus doesn’t allow the characters to grow as they should. In many respects, Alien Nine could be a truncated treatment of Evangelion’s themes, considering its level of cathartic trauma and its use of a main character unstable enough to make Shinji Ikari look like Patlabor’s unflappable Captain Goto. Yet with Sadayuki Murai handling the series structure, things are closer to the Murai-scripted Boogiepop Phantom. Alien Nine gives a similar look at young students struggling with anomie in the face of some larger, vaguer threat, while the borders of its reality are just as hazily defined.

This uncertainty lasts to the end of Alien Nine, where, instead of a solid conclusion, we’re left with the aftermath of a shocking attack and a glimpse of Yuri bawling her eyes out yet again. Still, it’s a fitting end to a series that irritates as often as it intrigues.

The soundtrack matches both the ugly and cute sides of Alien Nine, with a haunting ending theme and a bright, enthusiastic opener that sometimes sounds like the Monkees' "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You." As for the dub, it's a nice surprise. Central Park Media’s voice-work has often lagged behind the output of Bang! Zoom, the ADV studios, and others, yet Alien Nine fares well. Kelly Ray's take on Yuri has a fittingly fragile tone, and if she’s annoying, it’s only because of the character. (The same applies to her Japanese counterpart, Juri Ibata.) The only voices that truly bugged me were Kasumi’s, as Zoe Fries and Noriko Shitaya are too cutesy even for a go-getter schoolgirl, and Kasumi's habit of randomly squeaking “Nyah!” reminded me of nothing so much as annoying anime fangirls who make vaguely catlike noises because its just so kawaaaaaiiiiiii. One more oddity lies at the start of the series, where Yuri's vote-reading teacher has a woman's voice in the Japanese version, but a man's in the dub. A mistake, or commentary on Alien Nine's somewhat androgynous character designs?

Despite the excesses of Alien Nine, I'd really like to see more of it. The series repulsed me at times with its maudlin outbursts, aggravated me with its frequent lack of realistic consequences, and yet still kept me caring about Kumi, Kasumi, Yuri, and the plot twists that abused them. True to the vagaries of adolescence, Alien Nine is cruel and manipulative, but with a surprising story and an honest take on childhood's end, it’s well worth the trouble.

B