Two films into director Shukou Murase’s Mobile Suit Gundam: Hathaway’s Flash trilogy, he has remained remarkably faithful to the original novels, other than the occasional new mobile suit, expanded sequence, or scene adjustment here and there.
One of the most fascinating additions to his films is the inclusion of Earth Federation ace Amuro Ray. Outside of passing mentions, Amuro is absent from the original novels, but in Murase’s adaptation he lingers as a ghost haunting Hathaway Noa.
Toru Furuya has reprised his role as the iconic mecha hero in both films, and he remains in top form. Even with the more subdued and spectral portrayal of Amuro in Hathaway’s Flash, Furuya effortlessly slips back into the character’s warmth, conviction, and quiet authority, making Amuro’s presence feel both comforting and haunting at the same time.
This was an inspired choice by Murase, leaning into his penchant for psychoanalytic storytelling, because there are so many ways to interpret it. Is this version of Amuro truly a lingering Newtype ghost? A manifestation of Hathaway’s guilt-ridden and traumatized psyche following Char’s Rebellion? Or does Amuro instead function as Hathaway’s conscience, the idealized moral compass he feels incapable of ever living up to?
In both films, Hathaway behaves antagonistically toward this vision of Amuro, even as Amuro continues attempting to mentor and guide him. It creates the impression of a boy lashing out at an older brother figure, a reflection of Amuro’s role in his life dating back to Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam and especially Char’s Counterattack, where Hathaway witnessed both the burdens and ultimate tragedy surrounding him.
This disillusionment comes to a head in the second film. During the third act battle against Lane Aim, Hathaway is psychologically triggered upon seeing the Mass-Produced ν Gundam, mentally projecting RX-93 ν Gundam in its place. The confrontation transforms into a surreal battle against the ghostly image of Amuro himself, with the two exchanging ideals and dialogue lifted directly from Char’s Counterattack.
Lane himself could be interpreted as an Amuro-like figure, the young Federation ace pilot and naive idealist acting as a foil to Hathaway’s Char-like role as a radical extremist. Although both recognize the corruption and failures of the system, they ultimately stand on opposite sides of what justice should look like.
By having Hathaway mentally project Amuro onto Lane during their battle, Murase reinforces the idea that the Amuro-Char dichotomy carried over into the next generation.
The sequence powerfully emphasizes Hathaway’s internal contradiction. Ideologically, he has drifted closer toward Char Aznable’s worldview and methods, yet symbolically he is also fighting against his own conscience and unresolved trauma. The battle is not simply against Amuro’s memory, but against the part of himself still tethered to the moral framework Amuro represented.
No Comment