“There are no small parts, only small actors.”  When Konstantin Stanislavski said it he was talking about exactly what he said, actors (and he’d know).  But somehow Golden Kamuy makes me think of this famous quote, and not because of the seiyuu cast per se – though they’re certainly superb.  Here, I think it applies to Noda Satoru – though I might re-phrase it as “There are no small characters, only small writers”.  Heaven knows there are no small characters in Golden Kamuy, and that’s one of the many things that makes it a strong contender for best series of 2018.

I’ve recently started a weekly column over at Random Curiosity called “Up to Snuff” where the writers, in addition to voting on their choice for best currently running anime, participate in a weekly bonus question.  This time around it was “Best Male Character”, and the hard part with Golden Kamuy is honestly, how the hell does one choose?  Sugimoto and Tsurumi both made the top 5 but honestly – how the hell could you not vote for Tanigaki (I did)?  Or Ogata (the most popular GK character in Japan), or Hijikata?  It truly is an embarrassment of riches.

That’s the gist of it, really – it’s astonishing how distinct and memorable so many of this series’ cast are, and that makes the viewing experience that much more compelling.  Ogata is, as I mentioned, the winner of every recent character poll in Japan and while I wouldn’t go that far myself, I can see why.  He’s a fascinating man.  What I love is the way Noda and director Nanba Hitoshi are always showing us how Ogata never stops observing – the expression rarely changes, but the eyes tell all.  Even if this was our most profound glimpse into his inner workings yet (and what a fascinating and disturbing one it was) the man remains a dangerous enigma.

Before all that, though, there’s plenty of other fascinating stuff to digest here.  When Tanigaki’s party catches up to Sugimoto’s, Cikapasi informs them that they’ve been invited to the village of a couple of Ainu hunters who helped locate the Sugimoto group.  There, they’re witness to a Hopunire, the ritual for the sending off of a Kamuy (in this case a hunted bear) to the next world.  It’s yet another fascinating look at Ainu ritual – which of course Asirpa provides a running play-by-play for.  When she tells Sugimoto that the inaw – carved wooden sticks – that are “gifted” to the Kamuy become gold and silver in the next world, Sugimoto remarks that even in the next world gold seems to be the key to happiness.  You could write volumes just about Asirpa’s reaction as she silently listens – her expression is both opaque and overflowing with meaning.

There’s a lot of reckoning to be done now that the party (including Nihei’s dog Ryu, who followed the scent of his master’s gun) is together.  Asirpa clearly doesn’t trust Inkarmat (and of course she’s right not to) but Cikapasi has completely fallen for her.  Tanigaki has to fill Asirpa in on Huci, and he clearly expects Asirpa to return home to shatter her grandmother’s prophetic dream.  Sugimoto gently suggests that Asirpa do just that, but this is a modern Ainu girl and she scolds Sugimoto not to treat her like a child – her eyes remain firmly fixed on the prize (not the gold in her case, but knowledge about who she really is).  And Ogata confronts Tanigaki about his true motives, flat-out accusing him of being a spy for Tsurumi.  But Tanigaki is insistent that he has other reasons for his actions, and Sugimoto’s testimony about what happened to Tanigaki’s three fellow soldiers backs him up.

It’s here that Ogata commandeers the story, and in a big way.  As Lt. Koito grovels before Tsurumi over his failure to capture Shiraishi and slips into his thick Satsuma accent as an irritated Sgt. Tsukishima interprets, we’re made privy to an important tale of Ogata’s past.  Tsurumi seems genuinely surprised that the son of the 7th’s former commanding general would betray the outfit, but Ogata’s past explains why (at least in part).  He was that general’s illegitimate son, and watched as his Geisha mother was slowly driven insane by her obsession with the man who would never return to her.  Eventually Ogata killed her by putting rat poison in the anko-nabe (monkfish stew, her old lover’s favorite) she prepared and forced her son to eat every day, hoping that her death would at least draw his father back for the funeral.

This web of deceit is a tangled one indeed.  Not only did the general not commit seppuku over the massive casualties under his watch but was instead killed by Ogata, it was Tsurumi who put Ogata up to it.  Not only that, Ogata had killed his younger (legitimate) brother at Hill 203 (shooting him in the back of the head) not out of any seeming malice or jealousy, but curiosity to see if it would make their father reassess his feelings for his illegitimate son (it didn’t).  Ogata has never seemed remotely trustworthy, but the cold detachment of these acts is truly terrifying to behold.

It’s interesting that Ogata calls Tsurumi a “seducer” because he certainly is that, whether there’s anything sexual to it or not (and that isn’t 100% clear here).  Tsurumi does seduce his men with his seeming loyalty to them, and as I noted last week it can seem incredibly genuine.  But it’s lost on Ogata (which is why he turned his coat), because Ogata is every inch the sociopath Tsurumi is, and thus sees right through him.  The question now though is just Tsurumi’s goals for the current engagement are – what is his aim in this partnership with Sugimoto and Hijitaka’s group?  With Tsurumi, at least, we know what his aims are – craven though they may be.  That we can’t pin down Ogata’s makes him, somehow, an even more frightening figure.