My Top Seven Aspects of My Top Four Kamen Rider Shows: #4, Kamen Rider Kuuga

First up for this series is Kamen Rider Kuuga. As mentioned before, this show aired from 2000 to 2001, and was the first Kamen Rider show to air on television since the series’ hiatus after Black RX finished in 1989. Kuuga actively sought to bring Kamen Rider to a new generation of fans while maintaining the old ones, doing so by distilling the series down to its bare essentials, then modernizing and maturing its formula. This admittedly makes Kuuga one of the more simple and straightforward Kamen Rider shows (certainly the most straightforward one on this list), but if you ask me, that’s one of its greatest strengths.

Kuuga is about a young man named Yusuke who suddenly happens upon a great, ancient, and mystical power. When monsters begin slaughtering the people of Japan without remorse, Yusuke takes it upon himself to use these powers to stop them. Along the way, he’s assisted by a policeman, Ichijo, who he develops a deep bond with.

Anyway, without further ado, let’s get into it. Here are my seven favorite aspects of my fourth favorite Kamen Rider show.

7. Kuuga’s unique and balanced forms

As the dawn of a new age for Kamen Rider, Kuuga introduced quite a few new concepts that have since gone on to become series staples. One of these concepts is the idea of a show’s rider having multiple forms. While other shows toyed with this idea before, such as Black RX’s Roborider and Biorider forms, as well as Stronger’s Charge Up form, Kuuga was the first show to really commit to the idea.

Including his base form, Kuuga has four equally-powered but unique forms. He also has an incomplete form, which helps to immediately establish the show’s proclivity for slow-burn drama. Since Yusuke only accesses Kuuga’s incomplete form in the first episode and not his actual base form, the true threshold stage of his hero’s journey doesn’t come until later.

But back to Kuuga’s four regular forms. There’s of course his base red form, which is balanced and doesn’t have any weapons, just good ol’ punches and kicks. His base form also relates to another cool detail about the show’s slow-burn approach, which involves the signature finishing move of almost all Kamen Riders: the aptly named rider kick. While most riders use this movie very early on and sort of instinctively know how to do it, Yusuke doesn’t learn it until later, and we actually see the process of him coming up with it.

His next form is his blue one, which is quick, agile, and uses a staff. I’ve always liked this one, because honestly, staffs are low-key one of my favorite weapons. After that is his green form, which has super-enhanced senses and a bowgun. This allows for some really neat and unique long-range fights. And last is his purple form, which gives him a suit of armor and a cool sword. That’s enough said about that one, as far as I’m concerned. I have a thing for knights, so needless to say that one might be my favorite.

The way the show introduces these forms is really great, giving them each their own mini-arc. (When I say mini-arc, I mean two episodes that form one continuous plotline. More on that later.) But what I really love comes later, after Yusuke has fully mastered these forms. After this, Yusuke regularly switches between them during his battles, adapting as he fights and choosing the best one for a given opponent.

Watching Yusuke mature as a fighter and getting more comfortable with Kuuga’s powers is one of my favorite examples of the show’s slow-burn buildup giving way to extremely cathartic payoff. The fights start simple but gradually get more intricate and engaging to watch. And this is to say nothing of the upgraded forms that come later. Because, damn, those are really cool, too!

You know, if the very first entry gets me this excited, then that should say a lot about what’s coming later.

6. The importance of Kuuga’s motorcycle

For a series named Kamen Rider, you’d think the motorcycles (you know, where the whole rider part of the name comes from) would be a pretty big deal. But not necessarily! Honestly, this doesn’t bother me a whole lot, as I’d rather just watch a good superhero show than one where the writer tactlessly shoes in a motorcycle as a supposedly “important” piece of symbolism. But, when a show actually does this aspect of the series really well, it’s a sight to behold.

For one thing, I love how Kuuga’s motorcycle gets its own mini-arc. Much like Kuuga’s aforementioned forms, there’s an entire mini-arc dedicated to introducing how he gets his signature motorcycle. Without saying too much, the motorcycle is established as a symbol of Yusuke’s bond with Ichijo, and later it comes to symbolize Yusuke’s bond with the police as a whole.

The fact that the motorcycle is designed by the police compliments the show’s themes really well. Kuuga actually places a lot of emphasis on the police, even going so far as to pull a lot of its genre elements from police procedurals. Similarly, the way that the motorcycle meshes with Kuuga’s mystical powers compliments the show’s ongoing contrast between its supernatural elements, which pay tribute to classic Kamen Rider, and its sleeker, more modern elements. This is an important theme in general, and it’s cool how the motorcycle symbolizes that.

But the really great stuff is how Yusuke uses the motorcycle in his fights. The way he runs his enemies down to set up for his henshin (transformation)? The way he smacks his enemies with the front wheel? All gold. In many fights, the motorcycle is practically an apparatus of Kuuga, a weapon like any other. No other Kamen Rider I’ve seen fights with their motorcycle like this.

And, oh my God. I don’t want to spoil anything, but Kuuga eventually gets a rival that also uses a motorcycle. Their rivalry would be legendary on its own, even without the motorcycle thing. However. Their fight is, to put it simply, genuinely some of the best action choreography in the whole series. Full stop. It’s just that good.

Broadly, the importance of his motorcycle is just one part of what makes Kuuga feel like one of the most definitive Kamen Riders. It’s one of the best examples of how this show boiled the series down to its bare essentials and then added its own modern spice.

5. Kaoru Ichijo, the prototypical secondary rider

Kaoru Ichijo. The man, the myth, the legend. Except he’s only the first of any of those things. He’s just a man. Just a normal man with no superpowers to speak of. But, damn it, that’s exactly what makes him so great! Ichijo may not have the powers of a rider, but he certainly has the heart of one, and that’s what really counts.

Compared to Yusuke, Ichijo is the show’s more typical “hero,” especially early on. He’s fearless, mature, capable (for someone with no supernatural powers), and has a very strong sense of justice and responsibility. Early on, Yusuke seems like a clown compared to Ichijo. Ichijo chastises him for not being dedicated enough to his fight, and reminds him that protecting others is a sacred duty, not some fun, trifling adventure that you go on for fun.

After Yusuke becomes Kuuga, you’d think their hierarchy would swap, or something along those lines. After all, Yusuke’s certainly much stronger than Ichijo now. But that doesn’t happen. Instead, they become equals. Partners. Yusuke recognizes the value in Ichijo’s detective experience and police connections, and they work together to combat evil. Ichijo is an indispensable ally to Yusuke. The other way around is true, as well. Their fight is one and the same.

The majority, but not quite all, of Kuuga‘s predecessors feature one rider fighting by his lonesome. Contrastingly, every Kamen Rider show from Agito onwards features multiple main characters as riders. The story goes that Kuuga‘s writers had toyed with the idea of this show ushering in the era that Agito eventually would, but they decided not to, as a way of paying homage to late series founder Ishinomori, whose vision of a rider was as a solitary hero. Ishinomori passed away in 1998, two years before this show began. Much of it is based off notes that he left behind.

Nonetheless, if Kuuga did have a secondary rider, then Ichijo would be the obvious and only choice. In fact, it’s clear that Agito‘s secondary rider was created simply by the writers asking themselves, “What if Ichijo was, in fact, a rider?” Of course, I’ll be getting into that next week.

Ichijo’s dynamic with Yusuke is one of the show’s high points (more on this further down), but he’s also a deeply interesting character on his own. A classic Kamen Rider theme is the idea that power corrupts, but also that power intended for evil can be repurposed and used for good. This theme is explored elaborately with Yusuke as Kuuga, of course, but Ichijo’s exploration is much more subtle and much more intimate. Ichijo is a model policeman, for sure, but he still has the same temptations that all humans do. Exemplary as he is, he too is prone to rage, anger, and fury. “A human warrior,” one of the villains routinely calls him.

Ichijo is a sobering reminder that all humans possess the capacity for both good and evil. As a normal human, he holds himself to very high standards, but occasionally falls short of these expectations. But his imperfections are all part of what make him so, well, perfect.

4. The episodic to serialized plot structure

Kamen Rider shows in the 1970s and 1980s were very episodic. This format lends itself nicely to the long episode count for most tokusatsu shows, which is typically around fifty or so episodes. It’s notable that these shows run continuously, rather than being broken up into multiple seasons. A fifty episode show at two seasons has the advantage of a halfway pause where the writers can collect their thoughts and plan things out. For better or worse, Kamen Rider shows have no such advantage.

Of course, writing a fifty episode TV show with a continuous story would be an enormous challenge with all the real-world logistics to consider. What if a certain shooting location is unavailable? What if certain special effects can’t get done on time? What if the lead actor sustains an injury and is unable to perform? Oh, wait, the original 1971 Kamen Rider actually had that happen. They replaced him with someone else, and eventually had the original lead actor return when he was ready. Okay, um, what if a global virus pandemic hit and the whole world had to… Oh, yeah, Zero-One.

So, anyway, I’m sure you can imagine that when Kuuga sought to modernize the series formula by making the story more serialized, it did so gradually and with great deliberation. Initially, Kuuga is very episodic, much like its predecessors. Its formula is pretty simple. Every two episodes form a mini-arc. The first episode introduces a monster, and that monster is defeated by the end of the second episode. This format, aptly known as the two-episode format, would eventually become a series staple. W would use it to particularly noteworthy effect, giving every two episodes the same title but a different subtitle.

But, gradually, Kuuga starts introducing plotlines that carry over between episodes. Minor monsters are introduced before their proper mini-arc when Kuuga fights them. The cast slowly tightens as supposed one-off characters appear more often, and initially unrelated characters meet and form deepening relationships. Characters speak of cryptic mysteries that won’t be solved for many episodes to come. Ongoing plotlines inform the show’s three larger, overarching arcs.

The strength of this steady evolution is most evident in the show’s third and final overarching arc. After the first two arcs solidify the show’s formula, the final arc expertly subverts it and flips everything on its head. Thinking back to when I watched the show for the first time, I vividly remember exactly when I realized that I was watching a masterpiece. It was the conclusion of the second arc. Needless to say, the third arc surpassed my expectations again and again. These deeply cathartic episodes are not only amazing on their own, but they also retroactively enhance the show prior.

Kuuga‘s unhurried emphasis on its overarching plotline was a venture into uncharted territory that could’ve turned out catastrophic. Instead, everything falls into place brilliantly. Nearly every episode is as memorable on its own as it is when viewed as a part of the show’s totality.

3. How Yusuke is as much of a superhero as Kuuga

Yusuke, as stated before, is the protagonist of this marvelous show. He transforms into Kuuga to fight monsters and save the day. You’d think that what makes him a hero, but it’s not. At least, not really. This is because Yusuke himself is a superhero, even without his powers. Not a physical superhero, of course, but an emotional one.

Typically, every mini-arc in Kuuga has both an action conflict as well as a more personal, emotional conflict. Kuuga, of course, heroically solves the action conflicts with his superpowers, but what about the emotional ones? Who solves those? Enter not Kuuga, but Yusuke.

To frame this a bit, we actually need to talk about the real-world condition of Japan when Kuuga was being made. Much of Kuuga was written in response to Japan’s economic stagnation in the 1990s, a period which earned it the title of the Lost Decade. People were losing hope and were pessimistic about the future. Reflecting the reality of the era, Kuuga‘s cast is filled with people who are similarly uncertain. While the monsters certainly present a physical threat to everyone, they are not the only problems that the characters deal with. They also deal with emotional problems both related and unrelated to the monsters. These internal conflicts are more intimate and more delicate.

These sorts of problems, unlike the issue of the monsters, obviously can’t be solved by punching them to death. And this is where Yusuke shines. Even without his powers, he is a superhero onto himself, whose superpower is simple: the infinite and beautiful power of hope. The emotional support he gives other characters is arguably the deepest foundation of the entire show. If Kuuga’s powers ended up in the hands of anyone else, it’s not a stretch to say that most of the show’s conflicts would remain unsolved.

This characterization is also a big part of what makes Kuuga as a show feel so real. Aside from responding to the socioeconomic state of Japan at the time, our protagonist also feels completely and fully realized. Outside of his life as as Kuuga, Yusuke’s relationships with the rest of the cast are all deep and engaging.

While I suppose it could be said for the protagonists of all four Kamen Rider shows I’ll be writing about on this series, Yusuke is one of my personal all-time favorite characters. Clearly, this is a very big reason as to why. Kuuga is an important part of his identity, but it doesn’t define him. Even without his powers, Yusuke still represents an ideal that we can all strive towards, someone we can aspire to be like.

2. The final three episodes

Kuuga is a show that starts very strong and continues to get better the longer it goes on. It’s a show that constantly surpasses and defies expectation. All of this culminates in a set of final three episodes that are the stuff of legend.

Obviously, I’m not going to spoil anything. But even the simple premise of these episodes is… shocking. Now, I know it may sound juvenile to talk this way about a superhero show aimed at children, but I’m going to say it, regardless. I think even the very premise of these episodes is impressively melancholic. In a lot of ways, I think these are some of the darkest episodes of any Kamen Rider show, and that includes the infamously dark Faiz. But when I say these episodes are dark, it’s not because of how extreme they are. In fact, it’s the opposite. They feel so real that all the emotions hit that much harder.

Kamen Rider, like most superhero media, is very concerned with the question of what defines a hero. Earlier shows focused on the idea of power, and how power meant for evil can be repurposed for good. Kuuga is about this, too, but in a more contemplative way.

As I discussed earlier, Yusuke, even without his powers, is a hero unto himself. Any time someone is in emotional distress, he’s always ready with a smile, a thumbs up, and some words of encouragement. Yusuke is a hero in that he builds people up and inspires them to do their best. Yusuke creates hope… but of course, you can’t have creation without destruction. As the show goes on, it becomes increasingly clear just how different Yusuke’s powers are from Kuuga’s. Though Yusuke uses Kuuga’s strength to protect people, it is nonetheless a power that can only hurt others. Something that destroys rather than creates. Something meant for evil. The way that these episodes explore this juxtaposition is brilliant.

The resolution of this conflict is also contrasted brilliantly with Ichijo’s B plot. As the show’s honorary secondary rider, these episodes more than do justice to Ichijo’s importance throughout the show. He has plenty of memorable scenes by himself as well as alongside Yusuke. Similarly, Yusuke and Ichijo’s final scene together is my absolute favorite individual scene in the whole show. It’s the perfect sendoff to a perfect character dynamic.

And then, of course, I haven’t even written about the final fight itself. Kuuga’s final battle is a contentious one, slightly controversial for a tokusatsu. A lot of fans of the more over-the-top newer shows that have gone back and watched Kuuga tend to take issue with it. It’s low-key, not very flashy, a bit brutal, and a perfect thematic resolution. No other Kamen Rider finale is like this. I know it sounds like I’m putting down modern Kamen Rider, but I don’t mean to. They possess very different tones, and I just to happen to strongly prefer the tone of Kuuga and its contemporaries.

There’s nothing else to say except that Kuuga‘s final three episodes are perfect. Not on their own, of course, but they’re perfect for the kind of show that Kuuga is. Heartfelt, melancholic, somber, understated, and with just the right balance between maturity and accessibility. These episodes end a brilliant show flawlessly.

1. Yusuke and Ichijo’s romantic subtext

For those of you that really know me, this shouldn’t come as a surprise. Not in the least. But for those of you who don’t, let me explain. I’ve been a fan of queer subtext for a long time. (Remember my post last year about the 1985 miniseries Edge of Darkness? Yeah.) I’m particularly fond of implicitly homosexual relationships between men. The societal expectation of masculinity that dissuades men from emotional vulnerability makes for one rather convincing reason why these sorts of relationship never fully bloom, as it were.

But let’s take this one step at a time. Yusuke and Ichijo’s relationship would be amazing even if it weren’t romantic. The two of them are partners, two sides of the same hero. Yusuke as himself is the heart, and is the muscle as Kuuga. Then Ichijo is the brain. His connections also provide Yusuke with the many tools he needs to fight effectively, including metaphorical tools such as intelligence reports, as well as literal tools such as his motorcycle.

But even outside the context of the action, Yusuke and Ichijo’s relationship shines. They comfort and confide in each other. What’s unspoken is just as important as what they directly say. They are the beginning and the end. You see, falling in love is a difficult thing to put into words. Maybe I just want to feel like I know it when I see it.

There are small bits of anecdotal evidence that add up, too. During one mini-arc, Ichijo neglects his typical yearly visit to his mother. At the same time, he turns down a female coworker who’s romantically interested in him. The mini-arc ends with Ichijo and his mother sharing a tender phone call, where it’s clear that Ichijo has truly grown into his own man. More generally, many characters regularly ask Ichijo something along the lines of, “Have you finally gotten a girlfriend? You seem a lot happier.” To which he always replies, “No, I don’t know what you mean.” The implication is honestly pretty obvious.

You’ll notice that both of the above examples pertain mostly to Ichijo. Honestly, that’s not too much of a coincidence. While I believe that Yusuke reciprocates Ichijo’s feelings, Ichijo feels a little more interested in Yusuke than the inverse. Ichijo is initially presented as a loner, a self-reliant man whose cold demeanor and seriousness make him difficult to approach. But Yusuke doesn’t care about any of that. His heartfelt kindness wins Ichijo over, and eventually rubs off on him. By the end of the show, Ichijo has better relationships with just about everyone around him, and Yusuke is a big factor in that. It’s beautiful whether you interpret it romantically or platonically.

For some time now, Kamen Rider has had an ongoing fling with male homosexuality. The advertising for Kamen Rider‘s 2017 show, Build, promised “heated drama between men.” So, yeah, there’s not much I can add to make that any funnier. Kuuga may have been the first Kamen Rider show in the 2000s to feature a implicitly romantic relationship between its two male leads, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Not even on this list.

However, what makes Yusuke and Ichijo so special is how key their relationship is to the show. Ichijo is the greatest example of Yusuke’s power to inspire hope in others. Yusuke’s heroics as Kuuga would’ve fallen flat if it weren’t for Ichijo’s help. The show needs both of them, and they need the other as much as the other needs them. If that’s not romantic, I don’t know what is.

And with that, we come to the end of the first entry of this series. I hope you’ll join me next Monday when I write about Kamen Rider Agito. Until then, keep on smiling!