Deep dives into the nature of consciousness with a side platter of police action, gunplay and high-speed pursuit. At first glance this may come off as stiff and impenetrable, but like the thematically-similar Blade Runner, Ghost in the Shell offers untold rewards to repeat viewers. The nature of our memories, how they define us, and the dangers of nefarious interference upon them; these are some pretty heavy topics, and it should come as no surprise that it takes some time to really let it all sink in.

Reflective and immersive, the film spends a lot of time ruminating on the meaning of life - both in conversation and in the long, lingering glances of city still-life it indulges upon between bursts of action. In these scenes, Kenji Kawai's magnificent score really gets a chance to shine; haunting and alien, it's a strange beauty and a perfect pairing for the uneasy-in-your-own-skin themes explored by the film. The art direction is a similar brow-raiser, effectively bringing the residents and landscape of New Port City to life in a style that remains loyal to Masamune Shirow's original work while also carving out a bold, fresh identity of its own.

It's rare for a twenty-year-old film about technology to still remain relevant in a modern light, but this one somehow seems even more appropriate today. The advent of smartphones and tablets alone has brought the essence of human interaction up for debate, and this lonesome vision of a near-future Japan now seems hauntingly prescient.

A conceptual powerhouse, it does have faults - far too many stationary talking heads, breathlessly spouting plot points - but inarguably deserves its status as one of eastern animation's cornerstones. I fear its subtlety and nuance will be lost upon Hollywood's forthcoming live-action adaptation.