Monthly Archives: July 2010

How Diabolical!

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I think there’s more to the manga and anime series Zettai Karen Children than meets the eye, possibly some kind of elaborate conspiracy taking place over a period of years.

The series is about 3 young psychic girls defending the world alongside their adult caretaker (not pictured) Looking at the character designs, I think it’s undeniable that there is at least some lolicon appeal to these characters and that the creators are well aware of this element.

However, Zettai Karen Children does not run in some otaku-pandering magazine. It’s not like it’s from Comic High or Champion Red Ichigo or even Dengeki Daioh. ZKC runs in Shounen Sunday, the home of Detective Conan, Kekkaishi, Touch!, and Inuyasha. It’s meant to appeal to young boys first and foremost, though in a way different from Shounen Jump‘s more well-known approach of commercialized battling and the like.

Shounen Sunday has a well-established track record of introducing female characters who are on equal footing with their male counterparts with the goal of introducing the concept of males and females being equal to one another to children at an early age. There’s Ran in Detective Conan, Tokine in Kekkaishi, Minami in Touch!, and Kagome in Inuyasha. Having the main characters be the girls in ZKC means that the strength of females is readily apparent.

I have trouble thinking that Shounen Sunday would just let a series with lolicon elements run in its pages without some kind of ulterior motive to change or influence people, to just let it run to attract that older otaku audience.

As Zettai Karen Children has continued, the titular girls have aged. As of now, they are junior high age and their bodies have clearly matured. First, this implies that the progression of time is desired in the series, and second, that the girls are gradually moving away from being designed to have that very, very youthful appeal.

What I think they’re actually doing is an attempt to slowly create an  attraction to adult women in a group that might normally reject it otherwise. It’s using the power of the 2D complex to seize the hearts of otaku early on and then gradually wean them off of lolicon.

That’s Shounen Sunday, thinking long-term.

Yelling Till It’s Blu in the Face

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HD video is currently the next step in increasing the visual quality of moving images, and it is certainly more detailed than anything in the past, but it just makes me think about how in terms of visual clarity, video is forever doomed to lag behind still images and photographs.

Here is a fiction re-enactment of the interaction between video and photography.

Video: I’m bigger and sharper and better than ever! Maybe I’ll finally win!
Photography: Well that’s great! By the way, have you seen my new ultra mega resolution that lets me get in 100 times as much detail?
Video: DAMN YOUUUUUUUU

Or something to that effect.

Of course video is more realistic in its own way, but through time we’ve seen that increasing desire for more realism in it, but just by the fact that for every step in visual clarity that video takes, photography and the like are able to be at least twice or three times better just by virtue of being static images.

This might make for a good shounen manga, actually. Personally I can’t wait for the heroic team-up to vanquish a common enemy.

And by common enemy, I mean REALITY ITSELF.

Ike! Pin Panels!

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As Otakon draws nearer I’ve been steadily working on my panels, and I’ve come to realize that this time around I’m really concerned with giving good presentations.

That’s not to say though that I didn’t care about previous panels, nor that I haven’t ever presented in front of a crowd. I have plenty of experience for example defending my art portfolio for various thesis classes. But what feels different about this perhaps is that I really want to convey information in a way that really helps people grow as thinking fans. I want to make sure I do as much as I can with the time that I have so that everyone who attends can come away satisfied and feeling like they want more and want to do more.

I don’t have too many doubts though, as I think not only me but my co-panelists all have passions for the subjects we’ll be presenting, and so I think that once we’re in the spotlight we’ll do well. No pressure!

Otakon’s 21 days away, which seems like a lot but kind of isn’t. And then there’s that other thing looming on the horizon…

Which Genshiken Character Likes Soccer the Most?

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Tanaka.

Believe in the Evangelion 2.22: You Can (Not) Advance that Believes in You

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I watched Evangelion 2.22: You Can (Not) Advance over the weekend and I have a whole smattering of thoughts to put down on the subject. It’ll be part-review, part-editorial, and it will contain a ton of spoilers, so watch out.

Evangelion 2.22: You Can (Not) Advance is the second of four movies whose purpose is to retell the story of Studio Gainax’s Neon Genesis Evangelion, one of the most influential works ever in anime history. Fueled by hindsight and merchandise profits, Rebuild brings it all back while taking into account changes that have occurred in the world and in anime since the original series ended back in the 90s.

The basic premise of Evangelion is that a cataclysm in the early 21st century has left most of the world unpopulated. Ikari Shinji, a quiet, passive teenager, is tasked  with defeating otherworldly monsters known as “Angels” through the use of unusually organic-looking robots called “Evangelions.” However, his nature and personality make him perhaps the least qualified person in the world to be engaging in battle, let alone defending the Earth. He is supported by the organization NERV, which houses the Evangelions as well as his fellow pilots, the mysterious, stoic Ayanami Rei and the aggressive and competitive Sohryu Asuka Langley.

The idea seems fairly simple, but Evangelion would eventually become a whirling dervish of emotional trauma and introspection that sucks you into the characters’ thoughts and fears, and that characteristic of the series is by far its main strength, and according to some, also its main weakness.

Shinji especially is a pile of neuroses and doubts, which can make him an aggravating main character but also establishes him as quite a bit of an “anti-protagonist.” In watching the first Rebuild of Evangelion movie I found myself unable to engage Shinji, as they tried to build him up to have just an ounce more confidence and determination, but failed to spend enough time on his inner thoughts. His change of heart at the end of the movie comes so suddenly that it rings false to some extent as a result. Luckily, You Can (Not) Advance solves this problem with grace and artistry, which is to say, I liked this second movie. Now on to why.

While the movie opens with a fight between brand new character Makinami Mari Illustrious and an equally brand new Angel, I feel like the movie truly “begins” with the scene immediately after. Here, Shinji and his father Gendou, who is also the head of NERV, are at the grave of Shinji’s mother. Prior to the first movie, father and son had not seen each other in years, and so their relationship is justifiably awkward. Walls have been erected towards each other. However, here at the grave of Ikari Yui, both show that the walls are not absolute, that they are willing to express their feelings towards each other, if only briefly.

While Evangelion has always been about humans relating to one another, this idea of taking just that one tiny step towards trying to connect with others is what really sets apart the Rebuild of Evangelion from the original TV series. The characters aren’t significantly different from who they were in previous incarnations, but by attempting to reach out to others they encourage others to do the same as well, which keeps everyone from retreating into the comforting shell of personal insecurity. Ayanami Rei is seemingly without personality in the first film, and could have very well remained that way, but Shinji is able to reach out to her. In turn, in this film when Asuka (now sporting the surname “Shikinami”) confronts Rei and accuses her of being a “doll,” Rei is able to reply that she is not, but more importantly tries to help Asuka, who she sees as being much more human than herself and thus able to foster relationships outside of their “work.”

I really became aware of this element when Rei invites Shinji and Gendou to dinner to try and have them grow closer (or perhaps less distant). Amidst all of the talk of Angels and Human Instrumentality, I began to care a little more about this dinner, as I felt it skirted closer to the heart of the movie than anything else. The film follows a minor variation of the motto for success from another Gainax work, Gurren-Lagann, “Believe in me who believes in you.” Everyone is portrayed as a thinking and feeling being, even the Angels, who are not one-trick ponies but instead contain backup plans which are augmented by contingencies, hinting at the idea that they have brains underneath those monstrous facades.

The dinner ends up being canceled, as a disaster leads to Asuka and her new experimental Evangelion being possessed by an Angel. Shinji is sent out to fight the compromised EVA, but cannot act out of fear of hurting Asuka. Despite Shinji’s protests however, Gendou is able to override his controls, causing Shinji’s unit to go on auto-pilot and crush the Angel, with Asuka still inside. Shinji is justifiably upset at the whole ordeal, but what he curses most is that he ended up doing nothing. When Shinji is faced with a similar situation again, this time with Rei being the one at risk, Shinji is determined to not repeat the same mistake. Even if something terrible happens as a result, it’s better than having stayed on the sidelines.

The final scene of the movie mirrors one of the most famous scenes in Evangelion, that of Shinji falling unconscious and the EVA rampaging out of control, ultimately leading to it consuming the Angel in an orgy of violence and “evolving.” In this instance however, Shinji does not fall by the wayside and instead is fully in control. His desire to do something and make a difference where he once could not causes the EVA to transcend into a god-like state, visually captured by the movement and posture of the EVA. Neither hunched like normal, nor craven like when berserk, this divine manifestation stands with shoulders apart and head raised, as if to say that it has transcended into another level of existence. Its movements are steady and deliberate, with a clearly conscious mind behind them. In the end, Shinji is able to succeed because he has grown as a person with the help of those around them, who were themselves made better by knowing Shinji.

Whether or not I like this more than the original TV series is still up in the air, but seeing as there is so much to this film, so much to discuss and address, I am quite surprised that so much of the discussion going on about You Can (Not) Advance tends to be rather lacking. Instead of exploring the characters in-depth or talking about themes and story, the conversation revolves around talking about whether or not Asuka is tsundere, the levels of fanservice in the film, and how much merchandise the whole thing generates, as if to say that the movies do not contain any merit beyond being cash grabs. Why is that? I understand that Evangelion, being the classic it is, has been discussed to high heaven by anime fans the world over, but I don’t think any of us are too cool for school that we cannot bring about that fervor again.

Actually, a better way to put it would be to say that people seemingly do not allow the discussion to move beyond the idea that Rebuild of Evangelion is tapping into that pool of devoted fans. It is doing that of course, but no one ever said that they cannot still put heart and effort into the whole project.

So let’s talk!

(And if you’ve talked already, kudos to you.)

What Do You Mean Not All Anime Involve Philosophical Discussions?

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When it comes to anime and manga academia, I commonly see two mistakes.

First is when an unusual work that is elevated by critics and scholars as being artistically significant is considered indicative of other works in anime and manga. Oshii Mamoru’s Ghost in the Shell movies are the most frequently misused in this respect, and while I do like Oshii’s work (including his recent film The Sky Crawlers), he’s pretty much considered an anomaly. And even though he’s much more celebrated and popular, I think Miyazaki is the same way; his works are almost a universe unto themselves when it comes to the Japanese animation industry. If you’re going to analyze the nature and life of the Japanese animation industry, do you look at the rare exception or do you look at the more common works, the middle-of-the-road stuff? I’m not saying you should enjoy crap, of course. However, I think that while the former can give you a good idea of what anime can do, the latter gives you a far clearer image of where anime is.

The second is sort of a mirror image of the first problem. Here, run-of-the-mill works with little to say creatively are considered shining examples of artistic brilliance. Shows that served little purpose outside of making some money and are quickly forgotten due to mediocrity are carted about and displayed as if they were seminal works in the history of anime. For example, Seitokai no Ichizon might be presented as a brilliant portrayal of the difficulties in gender relations in education among students in Japan, when it’s more just a show designed to appeal to otaku and has some entertainment value.

But wait, you might be thinking, “How dare you tell us what’s significant and what’s not! You’re not the boss of us!” But I’m not saying that at all. Ghost in the Shell can say a lot of things about the anime industry. The only thing is that because GitS is an exception, you should probably study it as an exception. And I do think Seitokai no Ichizon‘s story is worth analysis to some extent, but you have to be aware of its origins as a light novel, as well as the otaku subculture it’s trying to appeal to, before you really try to present its ideas as indicative of anything at all.

While I do believe in personal interpretations quite a bit, postmodernism can be a terribly dangerous weapon.

Box vs Sphere: What is a Well-Developed Character?

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What is a one-dimensional character? What is a well-developed character? And how is it that two people viewing the same exact anime can reach entirely different judgments on whether or not its characters feel “real” or not? Those are the questions that have most recently been on my mind.

It makes me ponder the differences in the way people perceive the world and the people around them, as well as how those perceptions are then translated into the world of fiction. What do some people prioritize in their concept and understanding of a “three-dimensional personality” that runs so counter to the opinions and values of others?

Personally speaking, I find characters to be particularly well-developed in personality when I can sense that there is something more to them than what they are saying. It’s not like I want characters who are saying one thing and thinking another, however. It’s more about showing or at least hinting at a thought process behind those words. Genshiken, Eureka Seven, and Toradora! for example are particularly good at this, in that you can see the transmission from personal desire to choice of words getting filtered through the characters’ own personalities and values. But then I know there are plenty of people out there who dislike these series while accusing the shows of the very opposite of why I praise them. So again, what causes this conflict?

Many times when a character is seen as “artificially deep,” the accusation leveled at them is that they are simply there to fulfill a checklist. This isn’t necessarily wrong or unwarranted, and even I’ve used the “checklist” criticism before and have no real regrets doing so, but the question then becomes, how did these checklists form and who is responsible for them? To what extent are those negative checklists generated by one’s own standards of realism and authenticity?

What is more important for a well-developed character, that they start off with an almost palpable personality that reveals a heart and mind in them, or that they grow their hearts and minds over the long term?

What is more important, what you let the audience see, or what you let the audience infer for themselves? If you keep on revealing more and more angles, is the purpose to imply a sphere, or simply a many-sided polygon?

And how much of it is tapping into the familiar vs the unfamiliar?

It’s food for thought I haven’t really digested myself yet.

You See Davis

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In anime, it is often the case that a romance is hindered by one or more parties being completely oblivious to their own feelings, let alone the feelings of others. But every so often you see a character who “gets it,” realizing that maybe subtle hints just aren’t enough when the person they’re interested in is just a tad dense. One such character is Lina Davis from Heroman, the All-American Cheerleader who knows how to do it.

Opposite Lina is Joey Jones, a guy unfamiliar with the ways of love. Playing coy doesn’t exactly work with a passive guy like him, as it’s difficult for him to make that first move. But Lina is aware of this; she actively tries to get Joey alone so that she can ask him out. Then, when they actually go out on their first date, Lina really lays it on thick.

Whereas most anime girls would be content to maybe put on some makeup and wear a nice skirt, Lina is well aware of how much prompting Joey needs and knows such small steps are simply not enough.

I don’t think there’s much room for misinterpretation here.

While I would not recommend anyone actually look to Heroman for an example of good relationship anime, I think there’s something to be taken from Lina’s more aggressive approach. A lot of anime nerds, not just guys OR girls, can be unable to move forward. But you don’t need a personality change into someone more confident, you just need a quick burst of confidence, just those few seconds or minutes to make your move. In the case of Lina and Joey, while Lina takes the first step, it also allows Joey to reciprocate to some extent.

Let’s celebrate America with an American as interpreted by Japanese attitude towards being with others, even if you’re not American!

TSUZUKU

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I don’t know if it’s just from the media I’ve watched, but over the past four years or so I feel like there’s been this steady increase in a certain kind of nostalgic sequel/remake. These are different from your A-Teams and your Transformers movies and such, where the works are designed to tap into fond childhood memories and bring them screaming into the modern age; they’re more about addressing the previous work more directly, whether as a sequel or as a remake or in some hybrid form.

The first example that pops into my mind is Rocky Balboa, the sixth movie in the classic series about an underdog boxer, while more recently Toy Story 3 gives off a similar vibe. Anime is no exception, either. The Rebuild of Evangelion movies, while acting as a story reboot, also feel like direct responses to what came before them.

In all of these cases, it is as if there was some unfinished business left by the previous work which the original creators felt needed addressing, something simply beyond “the last thing made some mistakes.” For Rocky Balboa, it was a combination of Rocky V being a terrible way to end the saga of the Italian Stallion and Stallone himself realizing how old he was getting. With Toy Story 3, it seems like Pixar realized just how many years it’s been since the original Toy Story came out and wanted to bring it back one more time and use it to address both the people who grew up on those movies and Pixar itself and talk about growth and change and passing things on to a new generation. And the new Evangelion movies take the raw material of the original series, puts it through the lens of a decade and a half of anime post-Evangelion, and uses it to try to more deeply explore  the relationships between the characters, to talk about all of the new concerns that have cropped up in Japanese society since then.

Again, I don’t know if it’s just that I’m at the age to really notice this sort of thing, or if it’s that this generation of adults is especially keen on discussing the topic of change and resolution, but I can’t help but feel that it could be a defining feature of this time period in creative entertainment.

How to Make a Better Anime Jeopardy!

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“Anime Jeopardy!” is a fairly popular panel to hold at anime conventions, but many times they run into the same problems outside of the general problem of anime knowledge being an incredibly broad subject. First is that they tend to focus too much on specific shows, the second is that the questions tend to be about in-universe topics.

Just think about it: on actual “Jeopardy!” would you ever see a question about fiction like, “These are the number of windows in Dracula’s castle,” or “This man shook hands with a beggar in chapter 10 of such-and-such?” No, the questions do not reward simply having seen some shows more than others, but are more about accruing knowledge about the topics at hand and giving a few context clues.

So what would be the way to improve an “Anime Jeopardy!” panel? First, don’t assume too much about what are considered “easy” questions or “hard” ones. Second, make sure to give a fair amount of context clues as they would on actual “Jeopardy!” Third, there shouldn’t be too great a reward for people who have watched a particular show to death; that skews the results and makes it more difficult for more people to enjoy.

I’ve never run an Anime Jeopardy! panel myself so it may sound like I’m backseat panel-moderatin’, but I really think that if you follow these tips, your anime trivia panel will benefit from it, whether it’s in an existing game show format or not.