Mr. Scalpel

Gunpla

My friend Jenny K. is a wonderful artist — an abstract painter & sculptor — she lives in NYC, except in the summer, when she’s up here in her studio, where I visit her to see what she’s up to, and she returns the favor.

A couple of weeks ago she emailed me about her trip to Chinatown to attend a drawing class, and noted en passant (literally): “Across the street is a place called Mr. Scalpel. I have no idea what goes on inside. No windows, just a white wall.”

And of course, that was manna to a guy like me. So off I went. And sent her this reply:

Good morning secret agent K. [Play Mission Impossible theme song, if it’s not already in your head.] Your mission, if you choose to accept it, involves the photo in this CONFIDENTIAL envelope: You must penetrate Mr. Scalpel’s place of business and determine whether or not they sell “gunpla” kits for the manufacture and assembly of toy plastic robots like the one shown here.

If you are caught or arrested during this mission, you’re on your own. So good luck. You have only 2 weeks to complete your task. This recording will self-destruct in 10 seconds.

And Jenny had a good laugh. But I was perfectly serious.

About the possibility that Mr. Scalpel’s establishment is in some way connected to “gunpla” — a made-up combo (a “portmanteau”) for “Gundam plastic model” — Gundam being a fictional (sci-fi) universe — actually 9 different universes, some parallel to ours but others in a different timeline — all created by Bandai, the largest toy maker in Japan. (And perhaps not entirely unlike the universe I built a model of in my bedroom when I was six.)

Many Gundam robots are tiny — their armored outfits are called “mobile suits” — and they come in kits with hundreds of pieces, and are assembled (without glue), using only a sharp pair of pliers, or a scalpel, following dozens of diagrams (none of the instructions are in English, or even Japanese). Snip snip click pop.

As a final step, they are accessorized with a staggering variety of weaponry and “posed” (kneeling, jumping, lunging). After which you are free to “emote” their gestures, animating them to suit whatever scenario you desire to act out in combat, often with other gunplas you have brought to life so they can be brought, like samurai, to an equally honorable death on the field of battle.

But “real” gunplas are larger than humans, sometimes MUCH larger. The one they put up in Tokyo a few years ago was “life-size” at 65 feet (though still dwarfed by Godzilla) and became a major tourist attraction for millions of global gunpla addicts. (A miniature Statue of Liberty?)

A rendition of this gunpla warrior, a model RX-78–2, set against panels of gold leaf, sold at Christie’s for $600,000 in 2008.

But if you are more than just a fan, a Gundam aficionado, part of the game is to create your own — entirely from scratch or a customized version of one of the roughly 2,000 dye-injection molds that Bandai has manufactured since the first daddy gunpla emerged from resin in 1979 (about 5 years before rival Hasbro created its first knock-off Transformer, pre-assembled for lazy Americans).

Since then, more than 450 million kits have been sold, the vast majority in Japan. So the average Japanese family would have more than a dozen gunplas living with them. But the very best don’t stay put in Japan but go off to Singapore or Malaysia to compete with about 1500 rivals (all winners of their own nationals) in the annual Gundam World Cup.

I discovered all of this after googling “Mr. Scalpel” — where I found Mr. Scalpel Studio, with this description on his Facebook page: “Mr. Scalpel is a part-time gunpla builder who resides in Hong Kong. He would like to share his gunpla journey and link different ideas between east and west.”

Had Jenny come across one of his western outposts? Is it a franchise? Or is “Mr. Scalpel” some kind of generic term? I wrote Jenny back and told her I was glad I’d gotten her to laugh, but now I was hoping I could get her to actually cross the street the next time she was down there. And knock on the door (assuming there is a door) and inquire within.

And see if she could engage Mr. Scalpel’s assistant in conversation, and IF they do in fact make (or provide parts for) these creatures, maybe he — I assume it’s a he, though most gunplas are considered to be without gender — could arrange for her to meet one, in plastic, if not the flesh.

And Jenny was game, as by nature her brain is about 75% water (like the rest of us humans) — but most of her remaining quarter is curiosity.

So about a week later, she filed her report: “Dear Bob: I went across the street and tried to find a way in, but the door was locked and there was no buzzer.”

So who knows what lies hidden behind that white wall in Chinatown. An entire cosmos? Or will never the twain meet?

Jenny and I are still curious. If you’re ever down there and manage to get through the door, let us know what you find. Or if you can’t wait, go online, order a kit and build one yourself. Or just imagine building one.