Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury Season 1—Bold New Steps

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1 OF GUNDAM: THE WITCH FROM MERCURY

I know I probably shouldn’t do it. Sunrise is notorious for fucking up a good thing by meddling midway, and Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury has been good. Yet, even if I regret in the long run giving this show praise, I want to lay out my thoughts now, especially after an intense and shocking season finale.

Gundam: The Witch from Mercury is the first major Gundam anime to feature a female protagonist. While there have been heroines before like Christina Mackenzie in 0080: War in the Pocket and Hoshino Fumina in Gundam: Build Fighters Try, no one has been as prominent as Suletta Mercury. It’s a milestone that can easily be mismanaged, but the creators have done an amazing job not just with her portrayal, but also constructing a world that is a significant departure from typical Gundam while also feeling true to the spirit of Gundam and addressing modern concerns.

One of The Witch from Mercury’s biggest adjustments to the lore of Gundams-as-mecha is simple but profound: In this universe, Gundam technology was not originally designed for war. Rather, it was meant to help people with disabilities, and was only made into weapons through the greed of others. The world is dominated by corporations operating from space at the expense of those on Earth, touching upon a very relevant concern about the unchecked power of the moneyed. 

It’s within this context that Suletta stands out in contrast to her peers as she enters school for the first time. When we first see her (outside of the traumatic childhood events of Episode 0), she’s a nervous mess of a teen who has never interacted with kids her age, and whose only friend is her Definitely-Not-a-Forbidden-by-Law-Gundam, the Aerial. She seems to have the power to persevere in spite of her anxiety, carrying an innocent-yet-powerful sense of right and wrong. She wants to both make friends and do good, and the wrench she throws into the systems in place at her school is a big one.

The school setting is also something of a first for a main Gundam series, and the way it’s handled is beautiful. While on the surface it makes The Witch from Mercury look like it’s trying to mimic a popular trend, the show successfully does two things to make this work. 

First, it presents the school as an unusual place with unusual rules: a place to train students in the use and management of mobile suits, which also features a formalized mecha-dueling system that participants can use to wager and settle disputes. It seems silly, but it’s also contextualized as a kind of sheltered space to protect/mold the rich kids of the corporations running the world and give them advantages to further leverage their positions. This is precisely what Suletta gums up by becoming the “groom” for the “bride” of the school, Miorine Rembran—the daughter of the CEO who owns the school.

Second, it takes those setting elements of the school and uses them to drive home certain themes and metaphors. The Witch from Mercury has often been compared to Revolutionary Girl Utena, and while the abstract symbolism and allegories aren’t as robust and dominant here, they still carry a lot of weight. Not only are the yuri vibes undoubtable and a more overt step into that territory, but the duels are very revealing about each character and their motivations. The balance is very reminiscent of G Gundam.

So when the other shoe drops in Episodes 11 and 12 as a real battle begins, it really highlights what an isolated environment the school really is. Duels are playtime and ways to establish hierarchy. Combat is where lives are lost. The competition between corporations is only one factor when the tensions between Earthians and Spacians can lead to such death. And when Suletta emerges as being surprisingly okay with murder (for the “right” reasons, like saving people), her lack of hesitation is downright frightening. It’s why Miorine’s reaction at the end is so powerful. She and Suletta worked out their emotional differences and trust issues, but now here’s an unexpected side called “Suletta can literally smash someone into a bloody stain and not bat an eye.” It really is like Utena and Anthy switched spots.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the similarities between Suletta’s mom and Char Aznable, and how they go beyond the masks. I was mostly thinking about their presentations and mannerisms, but this has made me realize there’s a vital aspect of Char’s character I didn’t look at enough: the unwavering desire for revenge. And so it begs the question—what would Char do of he has a child? The likely answer is “shape them into a bringer of vengeance.”

I hope The Witch from Mercury can live up to the greatness we’ve already seen. Please let this one get through okay. The next time I write about this series, I imagine it’ll be as a Gattai Girls entry.

Circles, Full and Partial: Belle

There’s a general arc to the films of Hosoda Mamoru. Over time, they have been increasingly concerned with family and the raising of children, to the extent that his early works can feel like a distant memory. His latest work, Belle, feels like both a return to older titles like Summer Wars and The Girl Who Leapt Through Time that comes by way of his decade-long focus on parenting.

Belle (whose Japanese title translates to The Dragon and the Freckled Princess) is actually an incredibly difficult work to summarize, as it tries to be so many things at once. It’s the story of Suzu, a teen girl who inadvertently becomes the biggest music sensation in an interactive virtual community after being unable to sing due to childhood trauma. It’s also heavily inspired by Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, with the aforementioned Dragon being an online version of the Beast who picks fights with everyone and has to run from a Gaston-equivalent with the power of doxxing. But Suzu also struggles with the cruelty of social ostracization at school, a self-inflicted strained relationship with her dad, relationship woes, and much, much more. 

I believe the way Belle harkens back to Summer Wars is obvious enough (virtual worlds and community), but when it comes to the teen aspect, I think Hosoda basically looped all the way back around. If works like Wolf Children and Mirai come across as explorations of how the feelings of small children influence how they behave and grow, then Belle is smack-dab in the tumult of puberty. Rather than entirely centering the world around teens, there’s a sense that the story is about watching over them as adults.

Belle is a lot, especially when you get into its various topics, including but not limited to: the Internet as a place to find oneself vs. the judgmental eye of social media, the way media facades can bring out positive qualities but also obscure dangerous ones, and the particular ways in-group vs. out-group dynamics run counter to the greater good, among others. At times, Belle seem like it’s going to burst at the seams, which makes it a full and rich experience but also at times thematically convoluted. The rich visuals and stunning musical performances help to tie everything together, keeping the package from falling apart at the end and delivering a complexity that has more merits than faults.

I don’t say this often, but I wonder if Belle would have actually been better as a long-format series. As 13 episodes or maybe more, all its components could be given more room to breathe, and the journey Suzu herself takes could have benefited from the real passage of time. The lack of a film-level budget might have meant a less exquisite presentation, but I think the themes could have rung truer.

Diamond Drama: Princess Nine

1998’s Princess Nine is the kind of sports anime with an instant hook: What if a Japanese all-girl baseball team competed against the boys in pursuit of the national championships? It’s a series I’ve seen get praise from professional reviewers and personal friends alike, and as a fan of the similarly premised Taisho Baseball Girls, I came in assuming I’d enjoy it. While that was indeed the case, what I find especially intriguing watching it now is how this 1998 anime feels like both a time capsule and anomaly whose style and particulars haven’t persisted in more recent sports series, be they shounen or shoujo.

Hayakawa Ryo is a talented female pitcher who helps out with her neighborhood’s small-time baseball team, when she gets scouted by a prestigious private all-girls’ school to be the foundation for an inaugural baseball team—not softball—with the aim of getting to Koshien, the vaunted stadium that symbolizes the romanticism of Japanese high school baseball. Along the way, she helps recruit new teammates, develops a budding romance, learns the secret past of her deceased father, develops a rivalry with a teammate that’s also a love triangle, and plays plenty of baseball.

The drama of Princess Nine takes place both on the diamond and adjacent to it, and that is what makes the anime so unusual relative to so many sports-genre titles. Oftentimes, an anime will use sports as either a central axis or a starting point. The primary conflict of Kuroko’s Basketball, for example, is how Kuroko’s cooperative philosophy fares against his self-centered former teammates from the Generation of Miracles. In contrast, a series like Touch! uses baseball as the backdrop to a portrayal of nuanced human relationships. But in Princess Nine, you’ll have episodes dedicated to mastering the Lightning Ball alongside ones focused on romance, and ones where feelings interfere with baseball and vice versa. The resulting juxtaposition can often be a double-edged sword, generally making the show more gripping but sometimes feeling a bit too overwrought. 

If there’s anything that approach reminds me of, it would be old-school shoujo sports titles like Attack No.1. I have to think this is intentional, especially because of how one character, the aforementioned rival Himuro Izumi, is very much an archetypal descendant of Ochoufujin from Aim for the Ace!—her long and luxurious hair, the way she has the adoration of her fellow students, and even her literal tennis skills are cut from that cloth.

While Ryo and Izumi feature most prominently, the rest of the team showcase distinct personalities that really gives the sense of them being a motley crew where opposites attract, in a sense. One thing that does feel like a quality from a bygone era is how long it takes for the team to fully assemble. Early episodes are basically devoted to gradually bringing in each girl and showing both what makes them tick and the specific hurdles they face (from lack of confidence to family obligations and more). The fact that it was clearly planned for 26 episodes as opposed to 13, all without being based on a long-running manga, is the kind of thing you rarely see anymore. They don’t even play a game of 9 vs 9 baseball until almost halfway!

The looks of the girls themselves also embody a specific period aesthetic for female character design. With the notable exception of Daidoji Mao, the stocky ex-Judo player turned catcher, all of the girls have a particular kind of “narrow hips and even thinner waist” look that I don’t often see these days. Anime isn’t exactly a bastion for diverse body types, but I definitely notice a difference in beauty standards for contemporary anime characters compared to the at-the-time typical appearances of Princess Nine, even when you discount the changes to face design that have occurred in the decades since.

I realize that I couldn’t have gotten this exact perspective if I had watched Princess Nine back when it was first being recommended to me around the mid to late 2000s. At the same time, the fact that this show seems to draw so heavily from a bygone era of anime at that time might also mean that I wouldn’t have appreciated its old-school flavor. 

I also don’t know if Princess Nine was ever intended for a second series, but it definitely feels like it could have gotten one and thrived in the process. I have my doubts that a sequel will ever see the light of day, but more unlikely things have happened. 

RABBIT!: Ogiue Maniax Status Update for January 2023

Yesterday, I watched the Hololive COUNTDOWN LIVE 2022▷2023. It involved 3D concert performances by a variety of members including two of my faves, the currently COVID-stricken Haachama and the on-hiatus La+ Darknesss. I highly recommend it, especially the crossover sections between the girls of Hololive and the boys of Holostars. This clearly takes some inspiration from Japan’s long-standing end-of-year musical event, Kohaku Uta Gassen, but I’ve never actually watched it.

Looking back, it didn’t hit me how long the past year felt until I saw Kio Shimoku mention that Hashikko Ensemble concluded back in January of 2022. At times, it’s like the days move by all too quickly, and other times, it’s like they slow to a crawl. I can’t tell at this point how much of it is the prolonged funk of the pandemic and how much is just me getting older.

But here we are at the start of 2023 and the Year of the Rabbit, at least if we’re going by the solar calendar. Whenever I think about it, I find myself remembering a certain old flash video from the 2000s. Thankfully, someone uploaded it to Youtube, so I can inflict it on a new generation.

January’s Patreon subscribers are looking good. Thank you, everyone, and here’s to another fine (?) year.

General:

Ko Ransom

Diogo Prado

Alex

Dsy

Naledi Ramphele

Sue Hopkins fans:

Serxeid

Hato Kenjirou fans:

Elizabeth

Yajima Mirei fans:

Machi-Kurada

Blog highlights from December:

Elegy of Fire and Metal: A Tribute to Mizuki Ichiro

Paying respects to one of the greatest singers in all of anime who passed away.

Hololive 3D Concerts and Bringing Different Fans Together

This is partly an analysis of how different fans have different expectations for their VTuber faves, and partly an excuse to post more videos of La+ Darkness’s amazing dancing skills.

Prospera Mercury, She Is a Char

How the mom in Gundam: The Witch from Mercury nails that Char Aznable feel.

And normally, I only pick three highlights, but I must mention that I’ve selected my anime characters of the year.

Kio Shimoku

Kio’s tweets mostly show his model-building progress and his thoughts on the 2022 World Cup.

Apartment 507

Chainsaw Man Anime vs. Manga.

Closing

At the start of the year, I feel myself wondering if I should be doing more both with Ogiue Maniax and outside of it. One thing I’ve thought about is starting a Substack, but I have no idea how I might divide my writing. In my head, there’s no real differentiation between “regular” posts and “premium” ones, and I’d probably have to figure out some way to make it worthwhile. One possibility is to break off the VTuber stuff into its own dedicated area in case it’s becoming too intrusive, but I don’t think it’s that bad currently.

I could also do premium posts on Patreon, but that sort of runs into the same issue. If anyone wants to see that sort of content (or if you even hate the idea), feel free to leave a comment. I think I care less about the money at this point and wonder more about how to promote Ogiue Maniax in 2023. All the old ways seem to be vanishing (and Twitter is constantly on the verge of collapse because of its moronic new boss), and I still haven’t caught up.

Whichever ways things go, though, I hope you’ll keep reading.

Best Anime Characters of 2022

BEST MALE CHARACTER

Bojji (Ranking of Kings)

In a massively oversaturated field of boy adventurers and princes with great destinies, it’s easy for a hero to get lost in the shuffle. But that suits that perpetually underestimated Bojji just fine. Deaf and undersized (especially for the son of giants), the hero of Ranking of Kings is one of the finest examples of a protagonist to ever grace the world of anime because of how his combination of cleverness, grit, and a loving heart work as one. What’s most impressive is that while he has a disability, it’s not used as inspiration porn for the able-bodied. Bojji develops himself in specific ways due to the particular challenges he faces, and he is neither wholly defined by them nor portrayed as if they don’t matter. He’s a character who will stand the rest of time.

BEST FEMALE CHARACTER

Power (Chainsaw Man)

There are very few characters that have made as immediate an impact on me in their first appearance, and even fewer who can make me laugh the way Power can. From her slightly archaic manner of speech, to the way she clearly doesn’t think through most things, to her penchant for violence and undeserved self-aggrandizement, Power is a lot to handle. But it’s in the strange yet continuously growing bond between her and Denji that she reveals what can sort of charitably be called a softer side—though it’s more like she’s the type not to care about anything beyond herself until she recognizes it as affecting her emotionally. I love her antics, and I hereby nominate Power for a Nobel Prize in Being Rad.

BEST UNCLE

Uncle (Uncle from Another World)

Here is a character who speaks to me on a deep and powerful level. His love of Sega is second to none, the combination of reclusive awkwardness, gamer brain, and a caring heart (that doesn’t always come across in the best way) makes him an amazing combination of gag character and hero. I’m extremely biased for a variety of reasons, and Uncle was a hair’s breadth away from also being the best male character of the year, but I felt it was more fitting to dedicate a category just to him for 2022.

FINAL THOUGHTS

It was a seriously tough decision picking my two favorite characters of the year. I had to think a lot about the balance between the characters that are closest to my heart vs. those who impressed me the most, and any slight reordering of priorities would have titled the scales in other characters’ favors. In fact, I think 2022 was an unusually strong year for characters in anime, and in some cases, I even held back because I expect them to do amazing things in 2023 as their shows continue. But an entire year is a long time, and I feel like there might be some upsets on the horizon.

Best Girl, Less-than-Best Film—The Last: Naruto the Movie

I’ve always been a big fan of Hyuuga Hinata from Naruto, as well as a believer in the Naruto-Hinata pairing from day one. After all, she loved him before the glow-up, and could see who he really was inside. Curiously, in spite of my support, I had never watched The Last: Naruto the Movie—the work that is meant to portray the moment where their mutual love becomes fully realized. I decided to change that, and now I can lay out my thoughts on this ninja romance film: Eh.

Naruto has never been about romance. Sure, it has plenty of characters with feelings for one another. And the chunk of the fandom is notoriously extremely dedicated to shipping. But the main stories focus on conflict and relationships of a different variety, and often characters are just kind of implied to get together offscreen. Take Shikamaru and Temari, who have a cool battle, come to each other’s rescue, and just seem to start hanging out more.

What The Last does is try to deliver a grandiose story of emotional epiphanies and world-shattering magical ninja action, but it all feels like too much in too little time. There’s never-before-seen flashbacks to their earliest days. There’s an antagonist who seems custom built to position Hinata as extra special but without giving her too much of a limelight. There’s really overt “red thread of fate” imagery. It’s as if the movie is trying to make up for all the lost time that could have been used to really forefront their relationship, and cram it into approximately two hours. 

The result is something that feels like it’s pulling Naruto too off its stable core. Contrast this with Boruto: Naruto the Movie, which I found to be a genuinely moving and thematically resonant film. There, the emphasis on the generation gap between Naruto and his son with Hinata, Boruto, really speaks to the fact that Naruto has to face the challenge of being a dad without having known his own. 

In the end, perhaps the reason I didn’t take to The Last: Naruto the Movie even as a big Naruto-Hinata fan is that I feel it to be superfluous. The building blocks for their romance are definitely there, and they make for a solid foundation, but Kishimoto didn’t have to try to build an entire skyscraper with half the necessary supplies.

PS: Hinata’s birthday is December 27. Merry Christmas, and Happy Early Birthday! In spite of the problems, she’s still one of my faves. In fact, I just voted for her in the big 20th Anniversary Naruto character popularity vote.

Prospera Mercury, She Is a Char

“Char clone” is a fan term to describe a certain character archetype in Gundam. It references Char Aznable from the original Mobile Suit Gundam, and is typically used with a constellation of certain traits: some combination of a rival to the protagonist, who’s masked, morally gray, and mysterious. But while Char clones are practically a given at this point in the franchise, Prospera Mercury from Gundam: The Witch from Mercury might be the most Char of them all.

While Prospera Mercury is indeed a masked character, she’s also unique in that she’s the mother of the heroine, Suletta Mercury. And this isn’t a Darth Vader–esque secret either: Suletta knows she’s her mom, and Prospera even takes off her mask on a regular basis. At this point in the story, they haven’t fought, and there’s nothing saying that they will in the future. Prospera doesn’t have a noteworthy color scheme, she isn’t battling her daughter on a regular basis, which might appear to disqualify her from the ranks of Char clones. But what she does have is body language and a cryptic/veiled way with words that immediately brings to mind the Red Comet himself.

Prospera “Momznable” Mercury is voiced by Noto Mamiko, who’s famous for her gentle voice. Yet, every time she speaks, I can practically hear Char’s actor (the inimitable Ikeda Shuichi) reciting those lines. And every time Prospera is shown interacting with others, it’s like I can picture Yoshikazu Yasuhiko (the original Gundam character designer), drawing her making those exact physical expressions. It’s uncanny, probably intentional, and gives me goosebumps.

Other Char clones have the visual trappings or follow the tropes. Be it Zechs Marquise, Schwarz Bruder, Lancerow Dawell, Mr. Samurai, Harry Ord, Raww Le Kleuze, McGillis Fareed, or others, they look and act the role of the Char. But Prospera Mercury captures the soul of Char, and it makes her the most intriguing figure in all of The Witch from Mercury.

Elegy of Fire and Metal: A Tribute to Mizuki Ichiro

It’s poetic coincidence that the man who sang the Mazinger Z theme would die the same year as the man who composed it. Mizuki Ichiro, aka Aniki, the Emperor of Anime Songs, died at age 74 after a bout with numerous health issues. It’s especially sad that what took him ended up affecting his greatest gift: his voice. But rather than dwell on sorrow, I think it’s important to celebrate what made Mizuki one of the all-time elder statesmen of anime music: the undeniable passion that he imbued in everything he sang.

I’m not going to cover his life and history because that’s already been done elsewhere. Rather, like with Watanabe Chuumei, I want to explore my own history with the songs of Mizuki Ichiro. 

I can remember exactly how I first heard Mizuki’s 70s singing: On a VHS fansub there was extra space at the end, and the fansubber had placed some old anime openings. And among them were Mazinger Z, Combattler V, and Steel Jeeg. At the time, my appreciation for retro stuff was a bit mixed, as I found all those songs to be varying degrees of hoaky—though the intensity of Mazinger Z in particular stood out. If anything, I at least preferred the music from the then-modern sequels such as Shin Getter Robo Armageddon and Shin Getter Robo vs. Neo Getter Robo. Of course, Mizuki was also a singer for those OVAs as well, and I think something clicked in me as a result. He was one of my gateways into classic anime.

I gradually transitioned into having a greater love of old school anime songs, and I remember watching videos of live concerts that featured Mizuki alongside greats such as Sasaki Isao, Kageyama Hironobu, Taira Isao, Kushida Akira, Horie Mitsuko, and MIQ. And while Mizuki wasn’t as prolific as in his heyday, he could still deliver. When paired with Horie in particular, the two could make some real magic, such as in Dangaioh and Godannar.

It was also around this time that I learned about one of Mizuki’s greatest creations: JAM Project.

There are two basic strains of anime music: Songs made for anime and songs placed into anime. Neither means a tune is automatically good or bad, but in 2000, the art of making theme songs dedicated to the anime had long been an increasing rarity. After all, using a 90-second opening as a commercial for a new single has its practical uses. But Mizuki is one of the greatest examples of the first style—the kind where you shout the robot’s name and all the attacks and talk about how they defend justice—and he formed JAM Project, a band that still celebrates anime songs meant for anime. Though members have come and gone, including Mizuki himself, the roster over the years is a veritable Justice League of anison: Kageyama “Dragon Ball Z” Hironobu, Matsumoto “Pokemon” Rica, Kitadani “One Piece” Hiroshi, Endoh “Gaogaigar” Masaaki, Yoffy from the band Psychic Lover, Fukuyama “Nekki Basara” Yoshiki, Okui “Utena” Masami, Brazilian singer Ricardo Cruz.

And even among these younger singers whose styles were more modern, Mizuki could hold his own. In fact, whenever I listen to the JAM Project songs featuring him, I’m struck by how his old-fashioned sound added an extra layer of depth. Whether it’s “Soul Taker,” “Hagane no Messiah,” or “Koutetsushin Jeeg,” Mizuki’s voice provided a sense of history like only a handful of people ever could. Additionally, although he wasn’t part of JAM Project by the time Super Robot Wars Alpha 3 came out, the game made him the voice of the ultimate enemy, Keisar Ephes. I think that says so much about the respect given to him for his contribution to anime, tokusatsu, mecha, and so many parts of Japanese pop culture. I eventually got to see JAM Project at Otakon 2008, but by that time, Mizuki had long been out of the group. I regret not being able to see him in concert, but am grateful that I could experience his music at all. Playing Super Robot Wars 30 this past year, I found myself continuing to listen to his iconic themes.

Among my manga tweets and retweets about Mizuki is an abbreviated translation I did for Nagai Go’s message to Aniki. I think I’ll leave off with it, as it sums up everyone’s feelings well.

“We owe Mizuki for guiding the Mazinger Z theme song to becoming such a big hit.

Through 50 longer years of Mazinger Z, its continued popularity was ensured thanks to Mizuki. Every time, he would never let up, singing the theme with love and soul—that was his power.

He was someone who always went all-out, bringing out high spirits. This was the case for his stage performances, of course, but even when we got together normally, he was cheerful and humorous.

He cherished his fans, and he’d always bow his head from how he felt.

Thank you, Mizuki Ichiro. I pray for your passage into the next world.”

My Visit to the Exhibit “Shichiro Kobayashi: Drama of Light and Shadow”

A painting of an old, small Japanese home, with people huddled around a stove while a woman nearby rolls dough.

I didn’t know who Kobayashi Shichiro was until he had already passed away. But when Anime NYC helped sponsor an exhibit dedicated to his work both in and outside Japanese animation, I decided I should visit this gallery. I then read that he had been a part of the industry since its early days, but what I hadn’t realized is that his art extended all the way into the eras that helped foster my own love of anime.

Unfortunately, I only managed to get there on the last day the exhibit was open. I wish I could have written about it sooner.

A video of Kobayashi Shichiro, with subtitles saying, "Animation, hand-drawn and hand-crafted, is important, precious, and something to be thankful for."

Right after the entrance was a video message from Kobayashi, where he expressed his love of animation and its potential to connect humans with one another. He seemed to lament recent problems in the world and hoped animation could help overcome them.

From there, the pieces on display were both work from anime productions as well as from his own personal art. Some (but not all) of the anime ones were not allowed to be photographed, like the Revolutionary Girl Utena movie, Nobody’s Boy Remi, and The Adventures of Gamba, but there were many that could be, as shown below.

An abandoned and destroyed landscape with a cloudy sky in the background.

Urusei Yatsura the Movie 2: Beautiful Dreamers

Two background paintings from Venus Wars, depicting a destroyed stadium and an abandoned oil rig

Venus Wars

A futuristic-looking building against a blue sky from the anime Simoun.

Simoun

Kobayashi, in his role as art director, collaborated with many great anime creators, especially Dezaki Osamu and Sugino Akio. Looking at Kobayashi’s entry on Anime News Network, it’s clear that this was only scratching the surface. What really struck me was his ability to create backgrounds and environments for a whole range of settings, from small towns to science fiction landscapes. 

A fairly realistic self-portrait of Kobayashi painted with watercolor on paper, from the 1960s

His personal art also showcased Kobayashi’s versatility and powerful expressiveness, featuring pieces dating all the way back to the 1960s and going into the 2010s. They ranged from portraits to abstract art to images of nature, with horses being a lifelong subject due to having grown up with them.

An abstract painting with mostly black paint on a portrait-style canvas with a few specks of blue. A thick and textured band of white paint goes across the middle, and curves as if bending under its own weight. Dated around 1965.

Seeing these interspersed along with the anime work, it gave the sense that Kobayashi was truly a complete artist.

A striking painting of a horse in black on red, dated 2021.

In the corner of the gallery was a video playing a “storybook” animation by Kobayashi about one of his favorite children’s stories: The Red Candles and the Mermaid. He had apparently always wanted to make an animated work out of it, and this combination of stills and voiced narration was the fulfillment of that, to an extent. The tale is a tragic one, a lesson about greed and not appreciating others, brought to life here through Kobayashi’s paintings. Unfortunately, I don’t have an image of it.

It was brief, but I’m glad to have experienced the work of Kobayashi Shichiro this way, where his backgrounds command attention instead of receding in the face of the stories. It makes me feel that I should appreciate background artists more.

Hololive 3D Concerts and Bringing Different Fans Together

Laplus Darknesss and Amane Kanata from Hololive singing and dancing on stage

I’ve watched the recent anniversary streams of holoX, and in light of the announcement of the Hololive 4th Fes, I’ve been thinking about how holding 3D concerts can carry different types of significance depending on the individual member and what their fans are looking for. Hololive seems to celebrate their stars in a manner inclusive to every Hololive member’s diverse fanbase, and I’m all for it.

It’s no secret that Hololive members can vary tremendously in terms of where their talents lie. Some clearly establish themselves as great performers as soon as they have the chance, like Hoshimachi Suisei. Others don’t necessarily have the background but have worked hard and come into their own, such as Oozora Subaru. And then there are those who don’t reach the level of their fellow VTubers in terms of singing and dancing, but they might have engaging personalities that just make for a special experience.

However, when there are 3D concerts or other major events that bring Hololive members together, they potentially become places where all respective fans can come together and appreciate their favorites for their own particular reasons. Take the Hololive 3rd Fes concert, which was the 3D debut of Hololive English’s first generation. Gawr Gura showcased the singing talent that brought so many fans to her, along with a cute dance. Takanashi Kiara brought a more polished idol flair. Ina came with a soothing voice in a subdued performance. Amelia Watson is definitely not a strong singer, but her choice of music (a weird fictitious anime opening from the show Welcome to the NHK!) put her personality on full display. And Calliope Mori put her well-established rap skills (that have since led to a contract with Universal Music Group) to good use. Hololive Indonesia’s first generation also made their 3D concert appearances, with Moona’s diva-like poise, Iofi’s adorableness, and Risu’s ridiculous vocal range all on full display.

With holoX, there is a similar range of strengths and quirks on display in their anniversary concerts. La+ Darknesss (see above) is a ridiculous total package whose impressive vocals and unmatched dance skills both support and defy her “bratty alien demon lord” concept. Takane Lui doesn’t fit the typical image of an idol, but she’s very good at singing while also staying “in-character,” and her choice of songs conveys a sense of maturity. Hakui Koyori is a jack of all trades who also leans into her character the most by adding in puzzles and brain teasers to her concert. Sakamata Chloe is arguably the best singer in the group, with a voice that can seem unreal; she was also the only one to do exclusively solo performances, as if to prove a point. Kazama Iroha’s cuteness shines through in her energetic performances, and it’s clear that she put in a lot of effort to improve her dancing.

It all reminds me of an essay I once read about the differences in presentation between Japanese idols and Korean pop stars: part of the appeal of J-idols is seeing them grow into the role, whereas K-pop stars appear before fans already fully formed. In the context of Hololive, it’s like there’s a purposeful and perhaps even inevitable contrast. While you might have your “J-idol fan” types who want to see their favorites grow and your “K-pop fan” types who love to see perfection in action, a single banner like Hololive allows these groups (and many more) to all thrive in the same general space. 

The power that comes from the variety Hololive has to offer is the way it encourages respect for diversity of talent. People can be fans of different members for different reasons. There are certainly talents whose appeal lies in their sheer skill, and the fans want to see their favorites put their abilities and/or progress on full display. However, there are also Hololive members who aren’t necessarily the greatest performers in one way or another, but their presence on stage makes for a kind of “we made it” moment for their fans. No matter the reason, it emphasizes the idea that there’s no one “right” way for a performance to be, and it encourages the different fanbases to coexist.