Constable Kazuki Fuse is part of one such countermeasure, a “Capital Police's Special Unit” of troops outfitted with vaguely Third Reich body armor and man-portable machine guns. These panzer police are called upon to seek out the terrorist elements and, it seems, take no prisoners. The insurgents, however, have responded in kind, one of their techniques being the use of teenage girls, dubbed “Red Riding Hoods” to transport bombs.

As a heated riot begins in the streets of the capital one night, Fuse's unit storms a terrorist sewer stockade, with a bloody exchange of gunfire. In a starkly haunting scene, one girl escapes the slaughter with her explosives-laden satchel, only to stumble into Fuse's path. Instead of opening fire, Fuse attempts to talk her into surrendering, but the girl cowers against a wall and yanks the trigger in her hand. The explosion shakes the streets.

Thanks to his armor and a quick-thinking comrade, however, Fuse walks away with few injuries, though his superiors remain suspicious of his failure to take out the bomber. Shunned by most of his unit, a reticent Fuse makes his way to the bomb courier's grave, running into a young woman who introduces herself as the deceased girl's less politically active sister, Kei Amemiya. Whether by her forthcoming friendless or some sense of shared regret, Fuse finds himself drawn to the young woman, while she takes a bemused interest in him. Over the course of nuanced exchanges and reflective moments, they steadily share more than mutual mourning. Curiously, their relationship is catalyzed by a book of the Rottkappchen fable (an older, nastier version of what was gradually sanitized into Little Red Riding Hood). Much like some lurking wolf, there are hidden sides to Fuse's police unit and the government groups that oppose it, and both have plans for the silent soldier.

Jin-Roh owes a clear debt to the haunting, contemplative oeuvre of Mamoru Oshii, director of Ghost in the Shell and the Patlabor films, but he only provides the story and script here. Helming the production is relative newcomer Hiroyuki Okiura, who seems to have inherited a fondness for Oshii's moody, protracted cityscape shots and portentous ambience, though he's able to use these slower moments to enhance the story and the motivations of those in it, piecing together an intriguing tale of political connivances and bleak realities.

Oshii admitted that he intended Jin-Roh as a commentary on the loss of independent spirit in Japan, but Okiura seems more intent on assembling a character-driven allegory of men who long to be animals. To that end, the potentially tedious metaphor of Little Red Riding Hood crops up in often gruesome scenes, albeit without descending into ham-fisted boredom. And in the film's conclusion, the fable's familiarity makes the larger story hit all the harder.

Some have criticized Jin-Roh's use of an unneeded alternate history, but it's a trivial complaint at best. The fictionalized setting is, for all purposes, Japan of the 1960s with Volkswagens and Mauser pistols, and its freedom from historical adherence makes it easier to accept as a broader fable. In this sense, Jin-Roh fully succeeds. Political backstabbing and conspiracies abound, yet the tale ultimately hinges on whether Fuse is a man or a wolf. Finding out makes for some of the most memorable scenes to be animated in a long while.

Showing none of the exaggeration common to many anime films, Jin-Roh's realistic, highly detailed look is far more absorbing than any cavalcade of big eyes and explosions, and Okiura's periodic uses of savage imagery stand out without overpowering the film. Completing this aura is a beautiful soundtrack by Hajime Mizoguchi, who enlists his frequent Seatbelts collaborators Yoko Kanno (Cowboy Bebop, Brain Powered) and Tsuneo Imahori (Trigun, Gungrave) for some excellent pieces. The enclosed CD soundtrack almost singlehandedly makes the Special Edition set worth buying, though you'll also get an extra DVD of interviews and a documentary feature.

Any production with a distinctly Japanese setting and characters is tough to dub, but Jin-Roh's English version is unexpectedly convincing. While Fuse's original actor, Yoshikazu Fujiki, seems slightly more authentic, Michael Dobson gives Fuse a voice less monotone and noncommittal, and Moneca Stori lends her character all of the insecure charm she needs. Her Japanese counterpart, Sumi Mutoh, is too shrill at times. Ocean Studios' dubs tend to fluctuate from mediocre to excellent, but this one is clearly in the latter class.

Though Jin-Roh's slower moments may test the patience of some, there's little question that the movie excels as a bleak, memorable character study, if not as a larger implication of the often murky boundaries of human and bestial natures. And it's also a useful example in refuting the contention that anime offers nothing but flash and fantasy. Not merely impressive when judged by anime standards, Jin-Roh is smart, powerful filmmaking by any measure.