It failed. When Royal Space Force: The Wings of Honneamise hit Japanese theaters in 1987, it didn't just miss the mark—it kind of cratered. Bandai had poured an unheard-of 800 million yen into this thing. They wanted a blockbuster. What they got instead was a dense, sweaty, hyper-detailed meditation on human failure and the grime of progress. It was too much for the popcorn crowd.
But here’s the thing about "failed" masterpieces. They stick.
Decades later, we’re still looking back at what Gainax pulled off. This wasn't just another royal space force anime project to sell toys. It was a group of ambitious, borderline-obsessed young creators—including a young Hideaki Anno before Evangelion made him a household name—trying to build a world from the tectonic plates up. They didn't just draw spaceships. They designed the forks. They designed the currency. They designed the way people felt about God and garbage.
The World-Building Obsession That Nearly Broke Gainax
Most sci-fi is lazy. You get a "future" version of Tokyo or New York, maybe with some neon tubes and flying cars. Wings of Honneamise took the hard way. Director Hiroyuki Yamaga and his team decided that if they were going to tell a story about the first man in space, the world he lived in couldn't look like ours.
It’s an alternate 1950s-ish reality, but nothing is quite right. The architecture is a weird blend of Ottoman textures and Art Deco. The technology feels tactile. You can practically smell the diesel fumes and the damp pavement. Honestly, the amount of labor that went into the background art alone is terrifying. There’s a specific scene where Shirotsugh, our protagonist, is walking through a market, and every single item on the stalls looks like it has a history.
This wasn't just for show. The "stuff" of the world reflects the stagnation of the people. Shirotsugh Lhadatt is a loser. Let’s be real. He joined the Royal Space Force because his grades weren't good enough to be a pilot, and the Space Force is a joke. It’s a military branch that exists solely to waste tax money on rockets that explode on the launchpad.
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The film captures that specific brand of mid-century cynicism. People are hungry, the borders are tense, and here are these "scientists" trying to touch the stars. It feels wasteful. It feels arrogant. And that’s exactly why the movie is so brilliant. It asks if humanity deserves the heavens when we can’t even fix the mud we’re standing in.
Why Shirotsugh Lhadatt Isn’t Your Typical Hero
If you’re looking for a classic "hero's journey," keep moving. Shirotsugh is deeply flawed. There is a specific, infamous scene involving Shirotsugh and the female lead, Leiquanni, that remains one of the most controversial and uncomfortable moments in anime history. It’s an attempted assault. It’s ugly. It’s jarring.
Many critics argue it ruins the character. Others suggest it’s a raw, unfiltered look at the toxicity and confusion of a young man who doesn't know how to handle his own sudden "hero" status. Regardless of where you land, it proves the movie isn't interested in making you feel good. It’s interested in being honest about how messy people are.
Shirotsugh’s transformation isn't some magical realization. It’s a slow, painful grind. He decides to volunteer to be the first pilot not because he’s brave, but because he’s bored and meets a girl who actually believes in something. That’s relatable. Most of us don't do great things out of pure altruism; we do them because someone we like looked at us with hope, and we didn't want to let them down.
The Technical Wizardry of the Launch
You can't talk about this royal space force anime without talking about the climax. This is where Hideaki Anno’s legend truly began. The final launch sequence is a masterclass in hand-drawn animation.
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When the rocket finally ignites, it’s not just a "cool effect." Anno insisted on drawing the individual flakes of ice falling off the cooling tanks. Thousands of them. Each one animated by hand. The vibration, the sheer weight of the machinery, the way the sound design cuts out—it’s visceral.
- The Ice: Look closely at the launch. Those falling shards are layered with different levels of transparency.
- The Dogfight: While the rocket is going up, a literal war breaks out on the ground. The contrast between the transcendence of the flight and the stupidity of the combat is the whole point.
- The Prayer: Shirotsugh’s monologue from orbit isn't about victory. It’s a plea for forgiveness.
The Legacy of a "Flop"
So, why does it rank so high on "must-watch" lists now?
Because it’s a time capsule. It represents the last era of "pre-digital" excess. Every frame was painted. Every cel was shot on film. There is a physical soul in Honneamise that modern, CGI-assisted anime struggles to replicate. It feels heavy.
It also served as the forge for Gainax. Without the lessons learned (and the massive debt incurred) from this project, we wouldn't have Gunbuster, Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water, or Evangelion. It taught a generation of creators that you could use animation to explore philosophy, religion, and the crushing weight of societal expectation.
Common Misconceptions About the Film
- It’s a Prequel to something else. No. Despite some fan theories linking it to other Gainax works, it stands alone.
- It’s pro-military. Actually, it’s the opposite. The military in the film is depicted as bureaucratic, cynical, and willing to sacrifice lives for a PR win.
- It’s just for "old-school" fans. While the pacing is slower than modern shonen, the themes of finding purpose in a crumbling world are more relevant in 2026 than they were in 1987.
The film is currently handled by various distributors depending on your region, but the 4K restoration released a few years back is the only way to see it. The grain, the color depth—it finally looks the way the creators intended when they were starving in a tiny studio in the 80s.
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How to Approach Your First Viewing
If you're going to dive into this royal space force anime, don't expect Star Wars.
Expect a period piece from a world that never existed. Pay attention to the silence. The movie uses quiet moments to build tension better than most modern thrillers use jumpscares. Watch the way the characters interact with their environment. The way they hold a cup or kick a stone.
It’s a movie about the "smallness" of humans compared to the "bigness" of the universe. It’s about the fact that even if we are small and terrible, we can still do something beautiful.
Actionable Insights for the Modern Viewer
If you want to truly appreciate what The Wings of Honneamise offers, follow these steps for your viewing session:
- Hunt down the 4K Remaster: The original DVD releases are muddy. This film lives and dies by its visual detail. You need the highest bitrate possible to see the line work.
- Watch the Sub, then the Dub: The English dub has its charms, but the original Japanese performance by Leo Morimoto captures Shirotsugh’s "everyman" apathy much better.
- Look for the "Anno" Moments: Pay attention to any scene involving heavy machinery or explosions. You’re watching the birth of the visual language that would later define the 1990s anime boom.
- Research the "Uru in Blue" Sequel: After you finish, look up the history of the cancelled sequel. It’s a fascinating rabbit hole of "what could have been" that has been in and out of development for thirty years.
The Wings of Honneamise is a reminder that art doesn't have to be successful at the box office to be essential. It’s a messy, gorgeous, complicated film that refuses to give easy answers. In a world of sanitized, predictable entertainment, that's something worth holding onto.
Stop looking for a hero. Just watch the ice fall.