Ghost in the Shell
Shirow Masamune
Franchise
Ghost in the Shell (Manga) (1989-1991), Ghost in the Shell (1995), Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex (2002-2004), Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence (2004), Ghost in the Shell: Arise (2013-2014)
For over 35 years,Ghost in the Shellhas been a lot of things; a police drama, a political thriller, and most prominently, a philosophical ponderance about the merging of man and machine. But one element of this franchise that is crucial both thematically and in terms of presentation is body horror, an underrated component, the absence of which would arguably rob the series of its heart.
Created by Shirow Masamune,Ghost in the Shellbegan as a manga in 1989, following Public Security Section 9, an advanced police unit dealing with cyberterrorism in a post-singularity future. The story reached worldwide acclaim through Mamoru Oshii’s 1995 film, and the franchise’s characters and themes have subsequently been expanded on through various media.
What “Body Horror” Means in Ghost in the Shell
By definition, body horror refers to stories depicting transformation, mutation, mutilation, or other such methods of altering/destroying the human form. At first, that might seem at odds with this franchise, given thatGhost in the Shellis not a horror series.Although its contentcanbe unsettlingor have disturbing implications, it’s never been considered to exist within that genre.
With that said, on the occasions when the series has crossed those lines, body horror tends to be the most common avenue through which it achieves that effect. It’s even baked into the premise itself. This is a future in which humanity has surpassed its physical limits through advanced cybernetic prostheses. Furthermore, it has normalized these advancements such that the mind and body are distinct. The titular “ghost” and “shell” aren’t merely poetic allusions, but rather in-world terminology.
There is a lot of body mutilation inherent to the action of this franchise, especially in many of the biggest dramatic moments.Limbs are blown off, cyborgs are ripped to shreds, and there is a constant reminder of the fragility of the human form. No entry would be complete without the protagonist, Major Motoko Kusanagi, losing an arm at least once, if not more.
The Secrets Within the Shell
The application extends beyond some gnarly fight scenes, though. See, it’s important that, for the most part, the cyborgs look normal, which is to say, you shouldn’t immediately tell they are cyborgs by looking at them. In a future where cyberization is so thoroughly normalized, it’s only natural that the resulting aesthetic is as close to a flesh and blood human as possible. Body horror, then, is the tool this franchise uses to subtly or explicitly unveil the cyberization of its characters.
Like the gentleman from the 1995 film, whose hands snap open to reveal an array of smaller prods designed to operate a keyboard at inhuman speeds. Or maybe the woman fromGhost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complexwhose arm opens to reveal a shotgun hidden beneath the faux flesh. These unnatural alterations are exquisitely detailed, evoking perhaps awe or unease, but conveying how common that technology is regardless. One starts to assume that everyone on screen is a cyborg.
How The Major Transcends the Horror
The body horror described thus far is foundational to the aesthetic presentation, but to understand how it influences the larger themes of the franchise, one needs to look at the protagonist. It’s through the eyes of Motoko Kusanagi, that the horror becomes more tangible and relatable. The 1995 film is all about the Major grappling with not only the frailty of her body but the authenticity of her soul.
During an early scene where a woman has been “ghost hacked”, the Major finds herself transfixed by the stranger, who lies unconscious with her skull opened up and her cyberbrain laid bare. Looking back on this scene in retrospect, it’s clear thatthe Major was looking at her greatest fear; being robbed of her autonomy. It’s a nightmare that becomes reality by the end of the film, albeit with a much more positive outcome depending on one’s perspective.
As it stands, the Major’s greatest fear isn’t too far off from her present reality. In just about every iteration of the story, the viewer is reminded that she does not own her body or even her brain, both of which are government-issued. Despite this, her character has always been defined by her independence, namely in how she strives to emancipate herself.The OVA seriesArisedepicted herat her least independent, giving her the motive to break away and be free - or as free as she could be.
Identity, Autonomy, and the Trans Interpretation
Ghost in the Shellis a sci-fi series about cyborgs, but the Major’s story, specifically, is about autonomy, and what that truly means in a post-singularity world. It’s beyond this threshold that “body horror” becomes more like “body philosophy” because not everything in this cyberpunk future is horrifying. Frankly, there’s an allure to it, and with a lady like the Major in the lead, it’s no wonder so many folks in the transgender community idolize her so much.
Her backstory is purposefully - and meaningfully - obscuredin most iterations. Even her full name, Motoko Kusanagi, is a pseudonym given to her after her transition from human to a full-body cyborg. Technically, she could have been anyone before then. She could have been a boy for crying out loud, and that might not seem like enough to chew on, but when the story reflects on the Major’s chosen appearance, the trans allegory just clicks.
As a full-body cyborg, privileged with a role that grants her access to cutting-edge prostheses, her choice to present herself as she does, means everything. In one episode of the TV series, the Major criticizes Batou’s wasteful spending on weight-training equipment that he - as a combat cyborg himself - doesn’t need. He retorts, teasing that she ought to stop acting feminine and swap into a male body,a jab at her impressive strength.
His playful remark resulted in the Major hacking his arm and making him punch himself in the face. It’s an iconic scene; one of the show’s best, honestly, but it touches on something at the core of the Major’s character. Just as her past is intentionally obscure, her present is meaningfully vivid. She could be anyone in this future, yet she grew attached to a form that suited her. Her body may no longer pose a limit, but the one she chose is undeniablyher.
Why Does Ghost in the Shell Need This?
An understanding of body horror - and the self-love inexorably tied to it - is essential to doingGhost in the Shelljustice.
What makes the Major cool isher charisma, strength, and intelligence, but what makes her most relatable and human is her fear of losing herself. And because she is strong, her most vulnerable moments are simultaneously when she is the angriest the viewer will ever see her. InStand Alone Complex, when she’s nearly crushed to death by a soldier in a mech suit, she retaliates by pummeling his suit with gunfire, reloading her large rifle one-handed because her other arm was destroyed.
As stoic as she is, she knows how fragile her life is in this uncertain future, and how quickly the world may rob her of her autonomy. Thus, the rage she summons when her life is threatened may just be the franchise’s most powerful emotion. It’s part of what makes her such a relatable and deeply human hero. It’s not an over-exaggeration to say that an understanding of body horror - and the self-love inexorably tied to it - is essential to doingGhost in the Shelljustice.
