What Do You Mean Not All Anime Involve Philosophical Discussions?

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?

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

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

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!

“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.

You wa Culture Shock: Peepo Choo Volume 1

Felipe Smith is an American artist who found his way to Japan and became serialized in an actual manga magazine. His resulting comic, Peepo Choo, is a fusion of the two cultures, feeling like both and neither at the same time, but unlike many others actually manages to succeed in creating something unique.

Peepo Choo follows a young otaku, Milton, living in the south side of Chicago. Forced to hide his anime fandom to survive the harsh urban environment, Milton finds reprieve in anime, particularly his favorite title, Peepo Choo and sees Japan as an ideal paradise from which he can escape his life in Chicago. When he wins a ticket to Japan, he sees it as an opportunity to really be himself, but learns that his dreams and reality don’t quite line up.

The first volume of Peepo Choo can create an odd initial impression. The art is very in-your-face. The heavy amount of sexual content and violence can seem out of place even knowing that there are plenty of sexual and violent manga out there, and the way in which it makes fun of geeks can be a turn-off for the geeks reading it. However, there are reasons for all of this, and it’s not simply to offend everyone.

Peepo Choo appears to glamorize sex and violence, but does so in a way that also simultaneously removes much of the fetishism in both. The “Peepo Choo” meta-series itself that Milton so adores resembles superflat artwork crossbred with Pokemon, looking not like anime so much as the impression someone completely unfamiliar with it might get from watching an episode. And while Milton comes across as pathetic, he’s also a very good and righteous person in his own way.

Most, if not all of the characters in Peepo Choo are horribly flawed in different ways. Paralleling Milton is a yakuza member who has so fallen in love with the “American gangsta” aesthetic that he has adopted a wardrobe (cowboy hat included), attitude, and name (“Morimoto Rockstar”) that is a garish parody of the lifestyle, essentially trying to obtain the life that Milton is trying to escape. Supermodel Reiko has an as-of-yet unexplained violent streak to her. Comic book store owner Jody lords it over his customers by telling them how pathetic they are, but is only covering up his own insecurities. Everyone wants to be more than they are, or at the very least feel like there are two conflicting sides to them.

Yet, despite all of these human faults, all of the characters show some degree of goodness and altruism through their otherwise broken personalities. And so while the message one might initially take from Peepo Choo is “hopelessness,” there is also a glimmer of progress and growth in all of them, or at least the potential for such. In a way, it reminds me of Ressentiment, which also has a similar theme of the beauty in ugliness.

Is Peepo Choo going to be uplifting, or is it going to be a heel to the face of fans? Honestly, as of Volume 1 I cannot tell. The story can easily go in either direction, and while I hope for the former I can’t make any guarantees.

Pick up Peepo Choo Volume 1 if you feel like something different. It’s not like any manga you’ve ever seen, and it also goes to show that perhaps the way to achieving that manga dream is to do something unique.

Thanks to Vertical Inc.’s Ed Chavez for providing this copy.

The Feminine Touch to the Manly Spirit

Whenever I listen to the full version of the opening to Brave of the Sun Fighbird, a particular lyric gets my attention. Not present in the TV version, the line says, “Kanashimi o kudake, taiyou no tsubasa,” or “Crush sadness, oh wings of the sun.” The way the singer Yasuko Kamoshita emphasizes each syllable of “kanashimi o kudake” sends a jolt of excitement through me.

I think the reason why I notice it so much is because it’s a super robot theme sung by a woman. However, it’s not just because it’s a female vocalist, but because I feel like given the exact same song with the exact same fiery lyrics, male singers and female singers for super robot anime produce different results. Music’s not my strong suit, but if I had to describe the difference, it’s that the male singers tend to sound more passionate while the female singers tend to sound more heartfelt. When Kamoshita tells Fighbird to “crush sadness,” you can hear a twinge of sadness in her voice too.

You might be thinking, “But wait a second, it might just be because this is a 90s anime and at that point anime songs were changing!” And you’d be right on both points, but I think that this feeling extends back towards previous decades as well. Let’s not forget that female singers for super robot anime have been around for quite a while. I get the same impression from Horie Mitsuko’s work on Super Electromagnetic Machine Voltes V and Space Demon Daikengo, as well as MIO/MIQ’s Aura Battler Dunbine and Heavy Metal L-Gaim openings, though those two  are real robot shows so that genre shift factors in as well.

“Men and women sound different!” seems like such an obvious thing, but it really makes me aware of how the same song or piece of art can take on varying emotions once you change certain pieces.

For a fun comparison, let’s look at various openings throughout the decades featuring duets between Horie Mitsuko and anime song legend Mizuki Ichirou.

Chunno Azusa: A Chinese-Japanese Mahjong Tile Comparison

I’m Not in the MMF But Check It Out Anyway

The Manga Moveable Feast makes a cultural shift this month, transforming into the Manhwa Moveable Feast  in order to focus on the Color trilogy, a series by Kim Dong Hwa about a young girl in Korea on the cusp of womanhood and her subsequent growth.

Having only ever read the first of the three books, I decided not to participate this time around. Still, I know that this title is different from the general marketed image of “manhwa” in the United States, where it comes across as just a more illustrative variation of Japanese manga.

Manhwa simply doesn’t have the same level of exposure that manga does; even I have to admit I know little about it as a whole. Thus, my hope is that the Color series and this inter-blog discussion inspire people, including myself, to try and learn more about it.

You can start at the introductory post here, and then make your way through the archive of participatory posts. Of course, watch out for spoilers as some of these posts will contain some thorough analyses of the series.

Doodle Doodle Dee