Last week, I received several emails from friends about “Director Osamu Dezaki’s passing.” Some even included messages like “My condolences.” But in my case, my personal memories of Director Dezaki are limited to having “spotted him from afar” about three times (see my previous entry #214). I never actually met him. Yet, the fact that I received these kinds of emails probably means my reputation as a Dezaki devotee has deeply penetrated my circle of friends. Well, to me, it’s an honor.

That said, the anime industry really is full of Dezaki anime fans!
Especially works like Treasure Island, the theatrical versions of Aim for the Ace! and The Rose of Versailles, and Ashita no Joe 2—they’re all iconic. Honestly, I’ve never met anyone who disliked these titles. However, when I joined the anime industry (when I got a job at Telecom Animation Film in 1994), I remember some of the older colleagues around me reacting with “Hmm, not so much the recent ones” whenever Dezaki’s works came up in conversation. Even after I left Telecom, I encountered a few people who felt similarly. So, I’d like to reflect on Dezaki’s works outside of the universally celebrated ones from the early 1970s to the mid-1980s.

First, as every Dezaki fan probably knows, there’s his well-known timeline of work. After Golgo 13 (theatrical, 1983), there was a five-year period before Aim for the Ace! 2 (OVA, 1998) during which Dezaki moved to international co-productions that Tokyo Movie Shinsha was heavily invested in at the time. These included works like Mighty Orbots and Bionic Six. These pieces, however, were largely out of reach for the general fanbase, and even I only managed to watch them in Telecom’s video library. My impression of them was simply, “All of them have insane amounts of animation frames and are incredibly dynamic!” But I’ll leave those out of this discussion because revisiting them now is quite difficult.

So, let’s focus on Dezaki’s works outside of the international collaborations from the latter half of the 1980s. Here are some of the highlights:
* Aim for the Ace! 2 (1998 OVA; credited as “Chief Supervisor”)
* One Pound Gospel (1998 OVA; under the pseudonym “Sakimakura”)
* Kasei Yakyoku (The Star of Cottonland, 1998 OVA)
* Lupin the Third: Bye Bye Liberty Crisis (1989 TV special)
* Aim for the Ace! Final Stage (1989–1990 OVA)

That’s an incredible amount of work! Even though the release years for these anime may have coincided accidentally, as production often began a year or two earlier, aside from Aim for the Ace! 2, Dezaki directed or storyboarded almost all the episodes (for instance, he handled 10 out of 12 episodes for Aim for the Ace! Final Stage). For detailed information on Aim for the Ace! 2, One Pound Gospel, and Kasei Yakyoku, please check out “Let’s Watch More Anime 2011.” As for Lupin the Third: Bye Bye Liberty Crisis, it wasn’t quite the “Dezaki Lupin” I had expected, but it was still enjoyable in its own right. Starting from this project, there was an increased use of “blur” effects in post-production to enhance speed and motion in scenes. This gave a sleeker, more modern feel compared to the bold cel techniques like harmony processing and brushstroke effects in works like Treasure Island and Ashita no Joe 2. It felt very reflective of the era.

Aim for the Ace! Final Stage may have faced a tight production schedule, resulting in slightly rougher animation (and the character designs weren’t handled by Sugino). However, the drama, bolstered by Dezaki’s original storytelling and his storyboards for nearly every episode, made it compelling. After overcoming Coach Munakata’s death, the only storyline left for Hiromi Oka revolved around her love story with Todo. But juxtaposed with their blossoming romance, Madame Butterfly’s collapse was absolutely heartbreaking. Watching that as a middle schooler transitioning to high school, Kasei Yakyoku and Aim for the Ace! Final Stage felt like intense dramas of adult women’s emotions. My sister, two years older, was also captivated by Kasei Yakyoku, though she was furious at the ending (laughs). Personally, I loved that ending.

Here are Dezaki’s works from the 1990s:
* B.B. (1990–91, OVA)
* Lupin the Third: The Hemingway Papers (1990, TV special)
* Shuranosuke Zanmaken (1990, OVA)
* Soryuuden (The Legend of the Dragon Kings, 1991, OVA, episodes 1–3 only)
* Dear Brother (1991–92, TV series)
* Lupin the Third: Steal Napoleon’s Dictionary (1991, TV special; credited as supervisor)
* Treasure Island Memorial: The Man Called the Evening Calm (1992, OVA)
* Lupin the Third: From Russia with Love (1992, TV special)
* Black Jack (1993–2000, irregular releases)
* Lupin the Third: Pursue Harimao’s Treasure! (1995)
* Confucius (1995, TV special)
* Black Jack (1996, theatrical)
* Osamu Tezuka’s The Bible: In the Beginning (1997, TV series)
* The Legend of the White Whale (1997–1999, originally discontinued and later resumed)
* Golgo 13: Queen Bee (1998, OVA)

This is another staggering list, isn’t it? When did Dezaki even sleep? Any storyboard artist or director should be awestruck by his sheer output. Among the works of the 1990s, I personally leaned toward the more entertainment-focused ones, like B.B. Surprisingly, in 1990, B.B. marked Dezaki’s return to adapting shonen manga into anime after quite a long hiatus. I had read all of Osamu Ishiwata’s original manga and eagerly awaited the OVA release. Back then, there were even magazines dedicated to OVAs (yes, they existed!), which hyped B.B. as “the third great boxing epic from the Dezaki & Sugino duo, following Ashita no Joe and Ashita no Joe 2!” The character designs published in those magazines were very much Sugino’s style, complete with perfectly drawn lower eyelashes, which looked stunning. Knowing these characters would come to life under Dezaki’s direction had me so excited I couldn’t focus on school.

As for the actual OVA, the release of the first volume was delayed by five months (I know because I own the earlier promotional posters). But the wait was worth it—the first volume’s quality was exceptional! Sugino’s art surpassed the heaviness of the manga, and Dezaki’s storyboards elevated the drama, showcasing each punch with remarkable detail. The signature still shots (harmony processing) were present, but Dezaki added flair, like giving B.B.’s eyes a red streak of trailing light reminiscent of the bike taillights in Akira. The rival, Jin Moriyama, delivered a chest punch to B.B. that looked so painful it was genuinely disturbing. In the first volume, shadow outlines (the boundary between lit and shaded areas) were drawn as solid lines, but by the second volume, these outlines were color-traced instead. The scene where B.B. smashes through the boxing club’s window with a bat was stunning—glass shards exploded midair in delayed motion after B.B. landed, defying physics but delivering a uniquely “anime” sense of timing. I was hooked.

B.B. also featured Dezaki’s signature “fireworks” motif, which appeared across multiple works from that period, including Lupin the Third: Bye Bye Liberty, Kasei Yakyoku, and B.B.—a detail that made me smile. The second volume also had an incredible scene with a massive construction pile driver banging in the background as Moriyama beat up a thug. This wasn’t in the original manga, and it’s a testament to Dezaki’s genius that he could quickly sketch such scenes into his storyboards. However, by the third volume, the animation quality began to slip, although the use of transparency effects for Moriyama’s vomit earned another knowing grin from me. Sadly, B.B. ended at the third volume and has remained incomplete. I’m not familiar with the circumstances of the OVA industry at the time, but I have no desire to see anyone but Dezaki complete it. At the very least, I wish the series would be released on DVD or Blu-ray, even in its unfinished state. The idea of Dezaki and Sugino adapting that epic manga to its conclusion fills me with regret.

Similarly, Shuranosuke Zanmaken is also incomplete, but Toei has released it on DVD. However, the most intriguing thing about Shuranosuke is…

The text in the image says:

「あ、やべ！ まちあわせだ！」
(“Ah, crap! I’m going to be late for the meetup!”)

At the bottom, it says:
「つづく。」
(“To be continued.”)

But what stands out in Shuranosuke Zanmaken is the scene at the beginning where he slices the white tiger. In the anime, he cuts it “horizontally, from the belly” (as if slicing it into rounds), but in Jou Narumi’s original work, he slices it vertically, “straight in half from nose to tail.” This difference is significant because, in the original, Miyamoto Musashi sees the cleanly split tiger skull and declares, “I must face this man in combat!” leading to the eventual showdown between Shuranosuke and Musashi. However, in the anime, since the tiger is cut horizontally, the skull remains intact, making me wonder how they would have adapted that part of the story if the series had continued. I was both worried and excited at the thought.

As for Tanaka Yoshiki’s Soryuden (The Legend of the Dragon Kings), its adaptation caught me completely off guard—it came out of nowhere. When I saw a flyer for it in an anime magazine, my reaction was, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” At the time, Dezaki was already working on the major 39-episode TV series Dear Brother, so hearing about another monthly 45-minute OVA seemed, even to my high-school self, like an impossible schedule. And, as expected—though I hesitate to say this—the animation quality turned out a bit rough. Still, Dezaki’s storyboards were as stylish as ever. For example, the way the third volume built momentum toward its climax, with fewer movements amplifying the pacing, really showcased the expertise of a seasoned director. Shichiro Kobayashi’s art direction in the first volume was also a highlight—minimalist yet artful and realistic. Unfortunately, Dezaki’s involvement with Soryuden ended with volumes 1–3 (another director took over for volume 4 onward). The fact that the release of the third volume was delayed by a month suggests there were various issues behind the scenes.

For Lupin the Third: Steal Napoleon’s Dictionary, Dezaki was only credited as “supervisor” and didn’t storyboard it, so I have a hard time recognizing it as “Dezaki’s Lupin.” The next entry, Lupin the Third: From Russia with Love, suffered from disappointing animation quality, but the storyboards were brimming with energy—more so than any other “Dezaki Lupin.” The opening sequence had such absurdly chaotic energy (I couldn’t help thinking, “Why is he wreaking so much havoc in a library?!”) that I found it personally entertaining. The ending, where Lupin makes off with a massive haul of gold, and Goemon acting even dumber than usual, made me laugh.

In contrast, the 1995 Lupin the Third: Pursue Harimao’s Treasure! had both solid animation and cinematography. Still, my favorite “Dezaki Lupin” remains The Hemingway Papers—as I discussed in Let’s Watch More Anime 2011. Other works like Dear Brother, Treasure Island Memorial, and Black Jack are also covered in that review.

Now, let’s talk about Confucius. My initial reaction was, “Can you really adapt Confucius into a single TV special?” Yet, it turned out to be an excellent piece, filled with Dezaki’s signature style. The usual harmony-processed stills were done in brushstroke-like effects, and Mitsuo Kazama’s voice acting as Confucius was fantastic. This one deserves a DVD release.

Finally, The Legend of the White Whale. This one kept me on edge. For starters, it was Dezaki’s original work—how could I not want to watch it? The concept of referring to a derelict spaceship floating in space as a “whale” was fascinating, but the execution fell flat. The ship lacked any sense of menace, and the metaphor of the whale didn’t land, which made it hard to get fully immersed. Then, there were repeated recap episodes, and eventually, the production was halted and the series was canceled. Even I had to chuckle bitterly at that point, wondering, “Was it just too much to storyboard every episode of an original series?”

However, the latter half was picked up by Tezuka Productions about a year and a half later, and when the series finally resumed and aired through to the end, I was thrilled. During the Tezuka Pro phase, there were even two episodes supervised by Sugino Akio, and both the animation and cinematography reached a higher quality. The drama built steadily toward a climactic finish, and my perception of the show changed as the intensity ramped up.

The Legend of the White Whale is amazing!!

Although I never completely shook the initial sense of disconnect from the “spaceship = whale?” concept, the story delivered in other ways. The friendship between Captain Ahab and Dew, the romance between Dew and Seira, and the unique drama that could only exist in this strange sci-fi world were all well-executed and genuinely moving. Of course, I own the DVD box set, and what makes this set extra special is that Director Dezaki himself illustrated not just the box but all the jackets for the discs. It’s an absolute treasure for me.

And then there’s Golgo 13: Queen Bee. This OVA came 15 years after the 1983 theatrical Golgo 13, and perhaps because it was produced by Tezuka Productions—who were also working on Black Jack at the time—the atmosphere feels somewhat similar. As Dezaki himself mentioned in the audio commentary, both Black Jack and Golgo are gods of the underground. And Dezaki? He’s the one who wounds these gods and makes them suffer. In this story, Golgo is left near death within 20 minutes of the start! Forget the rules of the original manga—Dezaki’s bold and gripping narrative took complete hold of me.

Sonia (Queen Bee), voiced by Masako Katsuki, is such a cool, compelling woman. And with that, I’m out of time.

The 2000s works feel somewhat neatly lined up compared to the 1990s. While they aren’t all feature-length films, it’s delightful that there are six theatrical releases among them. Notably, all the works listed here feature Dezaki’s storyboards (though there are two co-credited episodes in The Snow Queen, I’ve heard Dezaki had a hand in them as well).

First, the Hamtaro series! When rumors started spreading in the industry that “Dezaki is apparently working on Hamtaro,” I initially doubted it, thinking, “Couldn’t this just be a mix-up with a Gamba’s Adventure remake?” (At the time, I’d actually heard rumors about a Gamba remake, but they never materialized.) However, after hearing more, it turned out to be true—this was indeed Dezaki’s Hamtaro. And when I finally watched it, my first impression was:

“I’m so glad I believed in this genius (Director Dezaki)!!”

He truly is capable of creating anything. Watching Hamtaro, I felt so grateful I hadn’t drifted away after The Legend of the White Whale was cut short. First of all, it’s just fun! The dialogue and storyboards flow together so rhythmically, making the anime feel like a lively, cheerful song sung by kids. You’d never guess this film was made by a director nearing 60 at the time—it was so youthful and energetic.

Even then, people around me would comment, “Oh, look, he’s doing another triple pan or using light shafts again.” But is that really a problem??? Sure, for us, it might feel like “He’s still doing this,” but for children, it’s their first time experiencing these techniques! A long time ago, I think around the time of Space Cobra, Dezaki commented:

“Techniques used for visual effects are not standalone elements; they are always secondary to the overall purpose.”

I wholeheartedly agree with this. In other words, the triple pans and continuous still shots are there to evoke a sense of thrilling dynamism in the film. It’s not as if the triple pan exists for its own sake. From this perspective, Dezaki’s Hamtaro was incredibly well-crafted, charming, and delightful—I even bought all the DVDs.

As for the theatrical version of AIR, I’ve already discussed that, so I’ll skip it.

The Snow Queen marked Dezaki’s return to TV series after a six- to seven-year gap since The Legend of the White Whale. And at 36 episodes, it had me watching nervously, full of anticipation.

I just wanted Dezaki to somehow storyboard every episode!
And…like a phoenix rising, he did it! But don’t misunderstand—I’m not saying that simply completing storyboards for all the episodes is impressive. The reason it’s amazing is that the story’s emotional arcs are so deeply tied to the fact that Dezaki personally storyboarded every episode—especially since the series is largely episodic. That’s the core of the show’s brilliance.

Here’s what I mean: Dezaki’s storyboard style—where “the script is just a guidepost, and no one knows where things will go from there!”—meshes perfectly with one of his favorite motifs: “the journey.” In this work, that connection is seamless. As a result, it feels as though Dezaki himself, alongside (or perhaps embodying) the young protagonist, Gerda, is taking each step forward and embarking on an extraordinary journey. This creates a palpable sense of unpredictability about where the story is headed.

Personally, I didn’t watch the series weekly in real-time. I intentionally waited to collect all the DVDs and then binged the entire show in one go. Why? Because I wanted to experience Gerda’s—no, Dezaki’s—long journey all at once. That way, without interruptions, I felt like I could truly join the journey from beginning to end. By the time Gerda reunited with Kai in the finale, I found myself overwhelmed with emotion, right alongside her. Of course, as someone who was also working as a director at the time, there was an added layer of professional admiration—“Truly, well done!”—that deepened my feelings.

On the animation side, the opening was supervised by Akio Sugino, with the ending illustrations also created by this legendary partner. Watching the OP and ED, I was struck by the sheer power and dignity of “the real deal”—it was moving. For the main episodes, Sugino only contributed to the character designs, but Kenji Yasaki, a former senior colleague of mine from Telecom, served as the supervising animation director on a rotating basis. His character work remained as warm and charming as ever. Yasaki was a major senior figure at Telecom, having designed and supervised animation for Lupin the Third: Farewell to Nostradamus (1995, theatrical). Personally, I mainly worked with him when I was still doing in-between animation and don’t recall participating much under his direction once I became a key animator. That said, I do own a copy of Yasaki’s key animation from Detective Conan: The Fourteenth Target (1998, theatrical), which the whole Telecom team worked on. It was a masterful example of professional key animation with absolutely no wasted effort. (Looking back, there were so many incredible seniors at Telecom—I learned so much from them.)

Returning to Dezaki’s works, let’s talk about the theatrical version of Clannad. Much like AIR, I had no familiarity with the original game. Still, I enjoyed it thoroughly and cried plenty. The flashback structure after Nagisa’s death isn’t particularly novel, and the idea of her dying in childbirth isn’t exactly groundbreaking drama. But while such tropes may seem stereotypical to people of my generation, they can feel fresh to younger audiences. And even if older generations dismiss it with “Why bother doing this kind of story now…,” Dezaki’s approach is bold and unapologetic:

“A girl dies, and the people around her grow because of it. That’s the story! So this is how it should be done!”

His directness is admirable. For Dezaki, it wasn’t about strictly adhering to the original text but rather about crafting a “growth drama surrounding the death of a single person.” And in that, I believe he succeeded.

…Though I’ll admit, Dezaki’s dad jokes popping up here and there made me blush a little.

As for Ultraviolet and Genji, I’ll save those for next time.

At last, there are so few Dezaki works left for me to discuss!
First, I must apologize—or rather express my frustration—and ask for help: I haven’t yet seen Astro Boy: Tetsuwan Atom Special Edition (The Secret of Atom’s Birth, Ivan’s Planet, Shining Earth: You Are Blue and Beautiful…), which was only screened at Kyoto’s Tezuka Osamu World. It’s such a shame! If anyone knows how I can watch it now, please share any information (Editor’s note: It seems to be available online).

Now, onto Ultraviolet: Code 044. The original live-action film was notoriously violent, so I was hesitant to watch the anime adaptation. But when I did, I found it unmistakably a Dezaki work. Of course, I own the full DVD set! The sci-fi setting somewhat reminds me of The Legend of the White Whale, though the content here is aimed more at an adult audience. The protagonist 044’s monologues and the dreamlike sequence involving “an endless cobblestone path” even overlap a bit with the theatrical version of Clannad. What’s particularly impressive about this series is that Dezaki tackled it in his signature way:

All episodes scripted and storyboarded by him!

This meant Dezaki himself threw his entire being into the work, diving into the unknown darkness ahead with just his storyboard paper and pencil, making it as thrilling for the audience as it likely was for him. When people talk about anime storyboards, it often comes up how scripts are sometimes unusable, or how the storyboard and script differ completely. Dezaki himself said in audio commentaries and interviews, “There’s no way I’m just going to stick to the script when storyboarding!” But even when the script couldn’t be used, having one at least serves as a “negative guidepost,” showing what not to do and cutting down some of the uncertainty. Without even that, he storyboarded from scratch. While it might be feasible for a director to do something like that on a single theatrical release, where the schedule allows for some deliberation, how many directors could pull it off for a weekly TV series? And with an original story, no less! Dezaki might be the only one who could.

Personally, I was thrilled that the assassination scene at the beginning of episode 1 bore a slight resemblance to the opening of Black Cat (2005–2006), a series I directed myself. Both feature assassins targeting someone important. Of course, it’s purely coincidental, and I’m not trying to brag about doing it first. Dezaki’s scene construction and shot composition are far superior, and I couldn’t possibly compare. But just imagining that we might have thought of the same kind of setup, even for a moment, made me happy.

Returning to Ultraviolet, I believe it’s a truly mature anime that deserves more attention.

Finally, there’s The Tale of Genji: Millennium Edition Genji. This work was originally based on a famous manga adaptation of The Tale of Genji, but just before the broadcast, the manga rights were pulled, and it became Genji. In interviews, Dezaki mentioned how the script and storyboards diverged significantly, but the result was a fully realized Dezaki work. I consider myself fortunate to have seen it.

The portrayal of romantic relationships between men and women in this series reflects an ethical perspective different from that of the modern age, and to be honest, some parts didn’t resonate with me. Perhaps I’m just immature for not connecting with Murasaki Shikibu’s Tale of Genji, but the protagonist Genji came across as a frustratingly opportunistic womanizer. However, true to form, Dezaki—who also worked on Golgo 13—managed to completely draw me into the drama, even though I couldn’t empathize with the protagonist. And he did so masterfully!

Dezaki once said in an interview:

“I don’t need to fully understand a character to portray them. I draw them while leaving the things I don’t understand as they are.”

This approach would be hard to achieve if bound too strictly by the script. While Genji had a script, Dezaki’s storyboards for all episodes gave him the freedom to direct as he saw fit, creating a compelling story even for someone like me, who dislikes characters like Genji. The visuals—such as the way kimono patterns seemed to glow and emerge—were breathtaking. It felt like the pinnacle of Dezaki’s style, where drama and visual expression intertwined deeply.

And above all…

The sheer coolness of the women Dezaki directed!

Whether it’s the fiercely proud older women like Madame Butterfly from Aim for the Ace! or Miyako-sama from Dear Brother, the earnest and energetic girls like Hiromi Oka from Aim for the Ace! who dedicates herself to her club and her love life, or the intellectual femme fatale like Joe Carol Brain from the Black Jack movie, Dezaki always portrayed his female characters in a positive, captivating light. In Genji, the moment in episode 5, “Fated Karma,” when Fujitsubo, carrying Genji’s child, declares as she parts ways with him, “From now on, I’ll be stronger!” is so incredibly powerful. When direction captures the audience’s heart so effectively, the dialogue doesn’t need to be overly elaborate. In fact, simple words can be even more impactful.

Many women swirl around Genji in the story, and I think Dezaki loved not only their beauty but also their flaws and imperfections. I’d even bet that in real life, many women also “danced” around Dezaki. In that sense:

Genji is Dezaki’s autobiography!!
(Okay, that last part is just my wild speculation.) Naturally, I bought the entire DVD set. The final volume even came with a CD featuring Dezaki himself speaking (the complete version of Mika Radio), which was such a delightful bonus.

…And so, I’ve rushed through talking about Dezaki’s works from the 1990s onward, but it’s far from enough. By my reckoning, I’ve only covered less than 10% so far. It frustrated me that in obituaries and memorials for Dezaki, works like Ashita no Joe, Aim for the Ace!, Gamba’s Adventure, and The Rose of Versailles were often brought up, but his OVAs and post-1990 works were almost entirely ignored (at best, Black Jack got a mention). Worse yet, when people described him as “the anime director who introduced techniques like shaft lighting, split screens, and freeze-frames,” it went beyond disappointment—I felt outright anger. That’s why I decided to write this piece. I deliberately avoided recounting the stories in detail (though maybe it doesn’t even qualify as an explanation?) because I wanted those who haven’t seen the works to go and watch the originals for themselves.

Why Dezaki? Why am I so devoted to him?

Because he always depicted humans.

Not just in anime—this applies to live-action film directors too (even Kurosawa). After reaching a certain point in their careers—say, after winning some prestigious award or another (I’m not naming names here!)—many stop portraying “humans” and instead start depicting “humanity” or “the world.” They adopt a god-like, omniscient perspective, looking down on their subjects.

But take a look at Dezaki’s works! The protagonists are always human beings, fighting to carve out their paths from the same perspective as us, the audience. And they’re never swept away by the times. Anime, in particular, has a short shelf life, and even in recent productions I’ve worked on, I often hear producers say things like, “If we do this, the audience won’t connect,” or, “If we don’t include this, it won’t sell!”—and I generally follow those directions (in a constructive way, of course!). For a director of Dezaki’s caliber, the “safe” option would have been to elevate himself above trends and depict “humanity” from a bird’s-eye view.

But Dezaki didn’t do that. He stayed grounded, fighting trends and catering to younger audiences with a no-guard stance, facing them head-on until the very end.

I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with the bird’s-eye approach, and there are plenty of movies and anime I love that adopt it. But the creators I truly respect are the ones who stay down here on the ground, on the same level as regular people, fighting in an environment that seems overwhelmingly disadvantageous, aiming for a knockout blow with everything they’ve got.

And that’s why it’s Dezaki Osamu.

…Somehow, I managed to wrap this up (whew).

Top 20 Dezaki Osamu Directed Works:
1.Ashita no Joe 2 (TV, 47 episodes)
2.The Rose of Versailles (TV, episodes 19–40)
3.Treasure Island (TV, 26 episodes)
4.Gamba’s Adventure (TV, 26 episodes)
5.Aim for the Ace! (Theatrical)
6.Aim for the Ace! 2 (OVA, 13 episodes)
7.Golgo 13 (Theatrical)
8.Space Cobra (TV, particularly episodes 1–13)
9.Dear Brother (TV, 39 episodes)
10.The Star of Cottonland (OVA, 4 episodes)
11.B.B. (OVA, 3 episodes, unfinished)
12.AIR (Theatrical)
13.Lupin III: Hemingway Papers (TV Special)
14.Black Jack (Theatrical)
15.Black Jack (OVA, 10 episodes)
16.Treasure Island Memorial: The Man Called Evening Calm (Bonus Original Video)
17.Nobody’s Boy Remi (TV, 51 episodes)
18.Ashita no Joe (TV, 79 episodes)
19.Cobra (Theatrical)
20.One Pound Gospel (OVA, credited as “Saki Makura”)

Dezaki’s works will undoubtedly enrich anyone’s life. Just consider: how many directors have even 20 titles to their name? And among those, how many have such a prolific output that you can select 20 standout works? Dezaki Osamu is truly one of a kind!

Thoughts on Some Highlights:
* (1)–(5): These are all masterpieces from the golden era of Dezaki (1975–1980). Not a single miss here!
* (1): This represents the peak collaboration of Dezaki with Akio Sugino (character design), Kobayashi Pro (art direction), and Takahashi Pro (cinematography). It’s unbelievable that this aired weekly on TV. Back in school, I bought the affordable 10-volume VHS set (skipping lunch to save money) and lent it to friends, spreading the gospel of Dezaki. Everyone ended up sleep-deprived because “once you start, you can’t stop.” That’s the correct reaction!
* (2): Episodes 19 onward are pure drama. Stop overthinking and just watch!
* (3): The second half becomes dramatically more compelling, and the climax with Silver is breathtakingly cool.
* (4): The only anthropomorphic animal story I truly love. As a kid, I remember being terrified by Noroi during a rerun.
* (5) & (6): Watching these consecutively doubles the emotional impact. Dezaki’s characters truly feel alive. I cry every time I watch Munakata’s death.
* (7): I love this one. The eternal theme of father-and-son drama by screenwriter Hideki Nagasaka, combined with Dezaki’s flair for intense female-driven stories, creates a perfect match. The CG parts… well, let’s overlook those. But 94 minutes? Incredible!
* (8): The first half is the highlight. Episodes 1, 3, 4, 11, and 12 are Dezaki’s storyboards (under the alias “Saki Makura”). Episode 1, in particular, surpasses the standards of what a first episode should be—borderline theatrical quality. Its structure rivals an entire Black Jack manga arc by Tezuka Osamu. Despite its density, the pacing never falters, feeling like a 21-minute poem. If nothing else, watch episode 1.
* (9): As a visual piece, episode 27 (The Incident of Mari’s Blade) is outstanding. For heart-wrenching drama, episodes 28, 32, and 36 are must-sees. In the original manga, Kaoru dies at the end, but in the anime, he survives, marries Henmi, and even has children. Dezaki had a tendency to avoid killing off characters!
* (10) & (11): It’s frustrating to even mention these since neither has made it to DVD (stuck on LaserDisc). But The Star of Cottonland is undoubtedly one of the highest-quality works from Dezaki and Sugino, both in terms of animation and drama. B.B. is a classic sports anime, despite being unfinished. Please find a way to watch these!
* (12): Prepare to cry!
* (13): Of all the Dezaki-directed Lupin specials, this feels the most like a true “Dezaki Lupin.” The idea that the only thing the Zantetsuken can’t cut is “friendship” is fantastic.
* (14) & (15): These represent Dezaki’s interpretation of Black Jack. Considering that Tezuka himself aimed for a “gekiga-style touch” at the start of the manga, Sugino’s designs feel like the perfect fit. Under Dezaki’s direction, the genius surgeon Black Jack becomes someone who not only possesses extraordinary skills but also struggles and suffers—a human touch that adds depth to the drama.
* (16): Opinions may vary, but I was truly moved. Watching the aged Silver, standing atop the whale he hunted, raising his fist in triumph while Yoshito Machida’s song (The Logbook of the Voyage) plays—if that doesn’t send chills down your spine, are you even a man?
* (17): “I want to be a man like Vitalis!” That’s exactly how I felt.
* (18): Dezaki’s beginnings. Episode 1 is a must-watch, brimming with the raw energy of a legend’s origin story. Shingo Araki’s rough yet striking animation style, showcased in episode 4, is unforgettable.
* (19): Another “Dezaki interpretation,” this time of Cobra. Instead of relying on still frames, the fluid action animation feels incredibly satisfying. My favorite scene is the showdown between Cobra and Crystal Boy atop Sid Prison. Watching this during a revival screening in 1992 sent chills down my spine.
* (20): Even with a Rumiko Takahashi original, Dezaki weaves in his signature techniques: three-pan shots and freeze-frame harmony processing. He’s a master at staying true to the source material while enhancing it in his own way.

In short, if you don’t watch Dezaki Osamu’s works, you’re missing out on a richer life!


Copied from various posts on http://www.style.fm/as/05_column/itagaki/itagaki_bn.shtml and translated with GPT-4o