Splish splash I was taking a bath: a review of Thermæ Romæ Novæ

Thermæ Romæ Novæ

Series Directed by Tetsuya Tatamitani

Series Writing Credits Yûichirô Momose Mari Yamazaki

Kenjirô Tsuda as Lucius Modestus

David Wald as Lucius Modestus

Rachel Robinson as Additional Voices…

Chris Okawa as Apollodorus

Takahiro Sakurai as Yoshida

Yoshimasa Hosoya as Ceionius

Junya Enoki as Markus Annius

Satoshi Hino as Regulus

Asami Seto as Mari Yamaguchi

Luis Bermudez as Attilanus

Chikahiro Kobayashi as Marcus

Shûichi Ikeda as Utagawa Kuniyoshi

Sanae Kobayashi as Sanae

Tsutomu Isobe as Emperor Hadrian

I tuned in to this extremely idiosyncratic anime because I figured anything that sounded that goofy had to have something going for it. I figured I would probably know in the first ten minutes or so.

It starts out beautifully. The theme music is the Toreador aria in full operatic mode from Bizet’s Carmen, perhaps the catchiest tune in all of opera. (Oh, come on; you watched Bugs Bunny as a kid, didn’t you? Of course you know it!) It’s sung by Paolo Andrea Di Pietro, who seemed born to sing this particular piece. Unlike the vast majority of anime, it’s worth watching just for the opening sequence. It consists of a series of roman-greco figures in all manners of poses, some crudely animated. A closer look reveals, along with the cartoon beefcake, all sorts of sly, humorous bits going on. Rubber duckies, for instance.

The title is Latin for “New Roman (Hot) Baths” and that’s just what it’s about. A shy and somewhat bullied kid in Rome, Lucius (Kenjirô Tsuda) lives in the time of the Emperor Hadrian (a time of peace and prosperity for the Empire) and wants to follow in his father’s footsteps and design public baths. One day one of the bullies pushes him in the bath, and he surfaces to an entirely different world of “flat faces” who speak in an unintelligible tongue. He is there but briefly, but the encounter suggests some improvements that could be made to the baths of Rome. It further inspires him.

The second episode is Lucius as an adult. He now sports a physique that makes Dionysius look like Peewee Herman, and he’s no longer bullied. Indeed, his former tormentors are now his best friends. And he’s a struggling thermæ architect. That is, until he gets accidentally immersed and surfaces in a bathhouse in 21st century Tokyo. There, he sees several wonders of modern Japanese bathhouses and resolves to implement them should he return to Rome. Which he does, of course.

Now, you may be thinking of that movie where a guitarist and failed songwriter is somehow transported to a world where the Beatles never existed and proceeds to become rich and famous by stealing their songs. It doesn’t work quite that way here. For one thing, the Japanese have certain technological edges, such as plastics, electricity, machines, and a host of other advances unknown and undreamed of in 2nd century Rome. So when he gets back, he brings concepts, but has to improvise to make them realities in his era. Which he does, with considerable ingenuity. Imagine trying to recreate the Beatles’ catalog armed only with musical instruments available in 180AD. Yeah, it’s like that.

He’s usually naked when he makes his transitions, and while Japan is more relaxed about nudity than, say, America, it has concepts such as mixed bathing and the like that create situations. Lucius himself is something of a humorless prig – an engaging character nevertheless because of his sincerity and passion. The expressions on his face when he encounters a modern Japanese toilet are falling-down funny.

Along with beefcake, there’s a fair bit of low-key homoeroticism, and a pretty steamy seduction scene involving a tipsy geisha. It’s all very subtle and understated, remarkably so by anime standards, which are usually pretty anvilicious. The show is suitable for kids, by the way—lots of magic steam and bubbles to take care of the dangly bits.

The plot sequences in each ep are as predictable as a Popeye cartoon; he travels to Japan (not always the 21st century), is amazed by the courtesy, friendliness and ingenuity of the ‘flat faced people’ and comes back with concepts he incorporates to increase his fame and fortune.

One touch that is purely wonderful. All the dialogue is in Japanese (with subtitles, of course) but when he tries to converse with his Japanese hosts, he speaks a creditable variation of Latin. They surmise (correctly) that he is from Europe, and some even get that he’s from Italy.

Goofy as it sounds, this series isn’t just engaging—it’s flat-out charming. The humor is sly and fairly sophisticated, as are the characterizations. At the end of each ep is a short mini-documentary about the creator and writer of the series, Mari Yamazaki, who is conducting her own series of visits to famed Japanese bathhouses, and like her character, drawing inspiration for her story ideas.

She isn’t new to this: Thermæ Romæ Novæ isn’t just a Netflix anime—it’s a long running and wildly popular manga, is the THIRD such anime series, and has also been a live-action film which grossed an amazing $72 million.

Yes, it’s weird as hell. But it’s amazingly good fun to watch.

Now on Netflix.