It's interesting to think of Denshinbashira Elemi no Koi as a nostalgic sendoff to the landline phone era and its greater intimacy. Cellphones appear nonexistent or a luxury of the wealthy, and the technology is suggestive of the 1980s or the 1990s. We've yet to reach the nadir of poorly composed text messaging filled with baby talk in Elemi. However, the story may be too plain, were the creators to treat us to the standard bittersweet and long-distance romance facilitated by the phone. Instead, we're presented with a literal goodbye to the era, as Takahashi, without foreknowledge, becomes entangled in a lovey-dovey and electrifying trystwith an ANTHROPOMORPHIZED TELEPHONE POLE! Telephone pole... Yes, telephone pole. T-E-L-E-P-H-O-N-E P-O-L-E...
How does one get roped into the incel to "Mom, I'm dating a telephone pole" pipeline? No, Takahashi couldn't simply be "normal" and stock up on PVC figurines or snuggle up with an anime girl pillow. He had to be special and straddle a telephone pole to shock and awe an audience that would have otherwise rightfully concluded that the staff was doing little more than phoning it in.
There are plenty of dates you can't bring home to mom, but this is going a bit too far, and I can imagine the awkward silence unfurling between the older, probably married, co-worker and Takahashi:
Co-worker: So, Takahashi, how is your sex life?
Takahashi: (blushes) W-what!?
Co-worker: I can see it in your rosy-red cheeks (winks). Tell me about her. (He visibly snorts steam into his nostrils.)
Takahashi: Well... I have been talking to a girl lately... and, you see, uh, um, t-telephone p-p-pole.
Co-worker: Is that what you're calling your little engine that could, champ? (He tosses a copy of The Little Engine that Could onto the table, inching it toward Takahashi.)
Takahashi: (Screaming, he squeezes his eyes shut in that embarrassed schoolgirl confessional way so familiar to anime.) I'm in love with Elemi! The telephone pole across the street! She's very pretty, and her face resembles your favorite character from the train series! (He points to the company's copy of Thomas the Tank Engine on the shelf and then bows multiple times while babbling.) I mean, uh... if Thomas had a sister (Takahashi looks excited).
Co-worker: Reading these books has led to you developing a complex. You're a Denchucon.
Takahashi: No, she's real. Don't you believe me?
Co-worker: I'm sure you've stuck a few forks into random sockets in your lifetime, but how do you expect me to believe such a shocking story, Takahashi? Listen, you know how I asked you to dog-sit while I'm out of town next week? Let's cancel that.
Takahashi: What? But why?
Co-worker: ...
After a long workday, Takahashi clocks out and stands near a telephone pole, craning his head to look at her well-endowed cross-arms; the hum of her transformer soothes him. Ever since childhood, he liked tall women. Even ones taller than him. And this was one tall woman: a gorgeous galvanizing giantess, he thought... oh, my sweet pole princess... I hope she falls over and crushes me like a bug. "HELP, HELP! It's him! It's the Denchu Diddler, and he's struck again! Look at the illegal things he's doing to that poor defenseless telephone pole! Take him to prison..." yells the co-worker at the top of his lungs while peering at Takahashi from a company window. Takahashi blushes, runs face-first into the telephone pole, hems and haws around to apologize to the telephone pole, and finally makes his way down the street and turns the corner. The co-worker and everyone at the company laugh. They joke about it every day. They hide photographs of telephone poles in Takahashi's desk drawer and accuse him of looking at pornography while on the job. One of the co-workers even spray paints Takahashi's apartment complex with the line "THE DENCHU DIDDLER LIVES HERE!"
What does one even say in response when your conversational partner is that deep into the sunk cost fallacy and indulges in the most bizarre erotic target location error imaginable? Anthropomorphism in fiction has gotten weird. It used to be cute, innocent, and even sophisticated back when people like Beatrix Potter were illustrating children's books, along with numerous other artists and storytellers from various countries, who would use these same kind of characters. Then drugs and sex saturated popular culture and became a more significant part of fiction, with animators like Ralph Bakshi and numerous comic artists injecting these talking animal works with a steady dose of cocaine and hookers. Somewhere along the way, furries became a viral internet sensation, and we've been shambling about blind while burning in hell ever since.
The set pieces, animation, production values, etc., are all fine. There are no serious issues from a technical standpoint. However, a few scenes that didn't directly involve Elemi or Takahashi felt out of place or pointless. I'd be lying if I said it was not sloooow and booooring, but it's sort of like an old realistic slice of life film—it's just more offbeat because, you know—telephone pole dancing—but if you imagine this as a typical romance film, it doesn't stand out in script or delivery. Everything hinges upon the curious concept. Most of all, I hate this kind of "Oh, it's such a quirky tale of forbidden love, how bittersweet. Such is life. Boo hoo." Takahashi is such a loser that he gets rejected by a telephone pole. Remember, when life gets rough, and you start to call yourself a loser, think of Takahashi. "At least I didn't get rejected by a telephone pole like that loser Takahashi."
No matter how disgusting you think certain fetish content is, you probably understand why and how it might exist. But a botched escapade of hopeless romance between a telephone pole and a 25-year-old man? Now I've seen everything, and I know the so-called rule 34 is alive and well. By the end, trying to be objective in my appraisal, I thought, "Well, it's not so bad, I guess. Fair enough execution." Then I'm like... I just watched a 44-minute short film about a failed relationship between a 25-year-old man and a telephone pole. What the hell? 1/10...
One by one, the street lamps flicker out; the windows go dark. A pitch-blackness spreads across the city in one monolithic sweep. Takahashi scales Elemi as a strange auroral light envelopes him, shifting from a sickly green to a bloody red. He says, "You've been a dirty girl, Elemi. A filthy girl." The glimmering stars become engorged, and they throb like hearts, and he notices the moon is watching him climb Elemi. The moon flashes its vast Thomas-the-Train-Engine grin and winks, drool dripping down from the corner of its mouth and all over the streets. If Takahashi squints, he can see that the stars are not just blinking figuratively but have actual peepers and are watching the action with bated breath. Elemi moans ecstatically. "Takahashi, we're being watched," she says, discharging electricity. Takahashi gets a jolt out of hammering nails into Elemi as he climbs. "I'll fasten a clamp on you when I get up there." "You got the new pole clamp!? Oh, yes!"
The other utility equipment and telephone poles twitch into life. "Mind if we join in, Takahashi?" They laugh and whip their wires around. Elemi flicks her eyelashes and licks her red lips in anticipation. Suddenly, the ground splits beneath them, and they fall into darkness. The earth swallows them, masticating them between a gnarled bunch of stony teeth. The billions of stars, the moon, and other anthropomorphized entities scream. Takahashi yelps, Elemi squeals, the alarm clock wails, and the co-worker shrieks and snaps awake in a cold sweat.
"What kind of terrible nightmare was that?" the co-worker mutters aloud, gasping for breath. He gets the Sunday newspaper and places it on the table. The front page story involves a death, which is unusual for his small town. He reads the lede: "Shocking story: a 25-year-old man—known in the neighborhood as the Denchu Diddler and the Pole Pincher—fell to his death after being electrocuted while trying to have sex with a telephone pole." Piff in perdition, Pole Pincher.
