Category Archives: blogging

Seeing the Darkness of Madoka Magica

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Ever since episode 1 of Puella Magi Madoka Magica, many bloggers have been making confident statements about how the show looks to be a dark subversion of the magical girl anime. While that is certainly accurate on some level, it seems to be the case that a lot of people don’t quite understand how exactly Madoka Magica is a subversion, simply because they don’t understand the subject itself. In other words, a good number of people writing about Madoka Magica don’t actually know the magical girl genre, despite the broad statements being made. Thus, I am going to address at least a few misconceptions.

Misconception #1: Magical Girl Anime Are About Good vs. Evil

Correction: Magical girl anime are about “before” vs. “after.”

While there are some shows which pit our heroine(s) against a dark force, the vast majority of magical girl anime and manga do not even factor in the good/evil dichotomy. Instead, they will focus on how the magic changes their own lives or how it changes the lives of those around them. Those shows which do have a good deal of fighting often have it in service to something else; in those instances, it’s generally more about protecting others than it is vanquishing villains. So when someone says that Madoka Magica is different because it doesn’t have “Good vs Evil,” they are basically incorrect in the sense that magical girl shows were never really about good and evil in the first place.

Misconception #2: Magical Girl Anime Say, “You Don’t Have to Change a Thing!”

Correction: Magical girl anime say, “the magic isn’t as important as who you are!”

Yes, the “Be Yourself!” message is fairly common in magical girl shows, but there’s a distinct difference between this statement and the misconception. One implies a static existence, while the other points to an active one. The self-improvement thus happens with the help of magical powers, but it is usually the catalyst for change, with the real reason coming from within.

Misconception #3: Sailor Moon/Nanoha is a Typical Magical Girl Show

Correction: Sailor Moon is more of a typical fighting magical girl anime and Nanoha is an atypical fighting magical girl anime, while a typical magical girl anime is more along the lines of Ultra Maniac or Fushigiboshi no Futagohime.

This ties in directly with misconception number 1 and it’s fairly understandable why people make this mistake. Sailor Moon is a very significant show in the magical girl genre, and for many anime fans the very first mahou shoujo anime they ever watched (myself included), but it wasn’t really typical for its time. Certainly it has had its influence on later series, probably most notably Pretty Cure, but Sailor Moon combined the magical girl anime with the team dynamic popular in live action tokusatsu and to a lesser extent giant robot anime, and used that as a platform to deliver action-packed fights, but don’t confuse what Sailor Moon added to the genre with what the genre is fundamentally about.

Similarly, Nanoha is a show made for otaku, taking the magical girl formula and targeting it directly towards an older male audience–much like Madoka Magica itself–but it draws a lot from Sunrise action and mecha shows and adds a cup of moe. It’s also understandable why this might be an anime fan’s main exposure to magical girls, as fans who might have avoided the genre as a whole may have been pulled in by what Nanoha did differently, but that is the Nanoha formula, not the magical girl one.

“So what exactly is Madoka Magica subverting, then?”

To understand the answer to this question, we have to know the basic theme of the magical girl anime, which is how magic can make your wishes come true, or let you do things you couldn’t before. This can be portrayed by having a character, generally a normal girl, come across their magical abilities, or it can directly target the audience (which it generally assumes to be young girls) and have a girl who already has magical powers from the start. Either way, a magical girl show typically says, “Wouldn’t it be great to be a magical girl?” You can see this in pretty much every magical girl show aimed at girls, be it Cardcaptor Sakura, Majokko Megu-chan, Shugo Chara, Minky Momo, Ojamajo Doremi, and yes, even Sailor Moon. If the show is geared more towards male otaku, then the theme might turn into “Wouldn’t it be great to know a magical girl?” but the opportunity magic gives you to change/better your life is the crux of it all.

On some level magical girl anime are about the exploration wish fulfillment, and when you keep that in mind the true nature “dark” element of Madoka Magica becomes clearer. The dreary aesthetic of the witch realms, the violence, and the ambiguous morality in the characters play a role, but the most important point to consider is how the magical mascot Kyubey offers the chance to make your wish come true at the “price” of becoming a magical girl. The fact that the wish-granting comes with some sort of unknown, unquantified, and unqualified cost is where the direct subversion is strongest.

“How much are you willing to sacrifice to make your wish come true?”

Ogi 3, Gooooooo!!!

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Today marks the 3-year anniversary of Ogiue Maniax. Looking back at all that’s happened to me and this blog since last November, it almost doesn’t feel real.

These days, I generally update Ogiue Maniax twice a week, but for over two years I posted daily. It was a signature of sorts for this blog, and I was dedicated to constantly thinking of new areas to explore, questions to ask, and bad jokes to tell. I was fairly proud of keeping up this pace, and swore to myself that only the most drastic circumstances could possibly derail me from my schedule. Even when I was working seven days a week, I still maintained it. But as I sit here in the Netherlands, a country I’ve never visited previously on a continent I had never set foot on, knowing that my purpose here is to focus my passion for anime and manga and penchant for analysis into a doctoral thesis, I know that life answered my challenge. Or perhaps it might be better to say that I challenged life. I hope you’re still enjoying this newer, slimmer Ogiue Maniax.

So if it weren’t for that big change, the most significant blog-related event would have definitely been the revival of Genshiken. It was December when I found out about the one-shot sequel known as Genshiken Chapter 56. Wanting to share it, I spent my Christmas Eve translating it so that all could enjoy one last Genshiken hurrah, not realizing that there would be another follow-up months later. With Genshiken 56 appearing last December and Genshiken II having started in October, the series almost acts as a bookend for year 3 of Ogiue Maniax. It’s more Genshiken than I could have possibly asked for. Not that I’m complaining, of course.

Then there were the panels at Otakon, my trips to play real mahjong with real people, and so many other things. It’s been exciting times, to say the least.

Really though, I am grateful for everyone who’s read Ogiue Maniax, whether you’ve commented or not. I simply can’t take that for granted, and if I do then something must be terribly wrong. Although I’m far away from my friends, my family, and those I cherish most, I still take great joy in being able encourage others to take a closer look at the anime they love and to deepen that passion a little bit more.

From the moment I found out I was moving to when I arrived here, I had this constant feeling that my life was entering a new stage. But when I think about it, my life’s been moving forward for a while now, and I have you to thank.

Shudou Takeshi, Pokemon, and Me

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*NOTE: Turns out some of the information I have in this post is inaccurate. Check the comments below for the correct information!

Shudou Takeshi, anime writer, has passed away at age 61. To fans of magical girl anime, he may be best known as the writer for Fairy Princess Minky Momo, and giant robot fans may associate him with his work on series such as Sengoku Majin Goshogun, but as for me and for millions of others all over the world, our first true exposure to Shudou was through his work on the Pokemon anime. Pokemon is undoubtedly one of the most successful anime series of all time, having penetrated popular culture down to its core along with the games on which it’s based, and while a good portion of its success can no doubt be contributed to effective marketing, underneath it all you will find a surprisingly engrossing story that can attract people of all ages, particularly in the beginning. It is Shudou’s work on those early seasons of Pokemon that helped to give it so much character and memorability.

Pokemon wasn’t always considered the evergreen franchise that it is today, and Shudou’s writing on Pokemon in those early days reflects that. Let’s go back to the very first Pokemon series, to the time when it was just 151 Pokemon; if you were to ask someone who watched the series avidly during this time to list their most memorable moments with the show, what would they say? Most likely, they would recount moments such as Pikachu defeating an Onix by activating ceiling sprinklers, Team Rocket giving their famous speech for the first time, a Bellsprout with expertise in martial arts overwhelming opponents many times its size, and a mysterious and absolutely menacing Pokemon in cybernetic armor asserting total domination over Gary Oak. What these events and many others have in common is that they not only broke the rigid logic of the Pokemon games but also created rules where there were none.

Before the games told us that Pokemon lay eggs and that Rhydon’s horn can act as a lightning rod, the anime gave us a story about how Ash’s Butterfree had to leave to find a mate and showed us that Rhydon’s invulnerability to electricity could be bypassed by attacking it through the horn. Before female main characters were an option, the anime saw fit to turn a water-loving boss character into a supporting cast member. Unorthodox creativity characterized those early seasons of Pokemon under Shudou, and while it meant that kids who believed the show’s every word tended to do poorly when playing against their friends on their Game Boys, on a storytelling level it was a complete boon. I believe that it is this dedication and relative freedom that Shudou and his fellow staffers were able to exercise is that enabled the anime to capture the imaginations of people everywhere and bring them into the Pokemon franchise. They wanted, above all else, to tell a good story.

Nowhere is this desire to entertain and inform more evident than in the very first Pokemon film. Placing Ash, Pikachu, and their companions against the formidable armored Pokemon which so soundly defeated Gary, Mewtwo Strikes Back on its surface seemed like it would be the story of Ash taking on a villain and coming out victorious, but it turned out to be far more profound than perhaps anyone anticipated. Watching the movie through a VHS fansub, I was introduced to Mewtwo, a cloned Pokemon genetically engineered to be the ultimate fighting machine. Having come into the world fully grown and told of its purpose as a living weapon, Mewtwo first destroys its creators and eventually sets out to show that clones are inherently better than their natural counterparts, or at least that’s the initial story. While perhaps even Mewtwo believes that its own goal is telling the world about the superiority of genetic enhancement, in actuality Mewtwo’s true desire is to find worth in its own existence. Ultimately, the important message to take from the film is as follows: the circumstances of why you’re in this world don’t matter nearly as much as the fact that you’re alive and have the right to keep on living.

As the man responsible for the story of Mewtwo Strikes Back, Shudou Takeshi gave us an amazingly complex antagonist in Mewtwo, by far the most well-developed character in Pokemon to date, as well as an amazingly intelligent children’s movie, and his only cues from the original games were that Mewtwo was an offspring of a Pokemon named Mew, that Mewtwo destroyed a lab and escaped, and that Mewtwo is designed to be the strongest Pokemon ever. The manner in which Shudou was able to weave these simple story elements together into an existential tale of a being cursed with incredible power is nothing short of amazing, and it is this very reason that I consider Mewtwo Strikes Back to be the best movie of the franchise, with or without nostalgia. This is also why I was so disappointed at the English release of the film back in 1999 and still am today, as it almost completely whitewashed the actual message of the movie, replaced it with a thematically inappropriate “fighting is wrong” moral. But even with such a compromised story, the light of Shudou’s script is able to shine through, at least a little.

Pokemon was and is one of my first great obsessions, and I cannot understate how beneficial my time with Pokemon has been. I have made lifelong friendships through it. I have interacted with fellow fans about it, and through those interactions established the roots of both my writing style and my approach towards anime as an artform. Without those early seasons of Pokemon, I would not be who I am today. Thank you, Shudou Takeshi. You have made my life.

Shoujo is Good

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Recently, debate about shoujo manga has centered around “girliness.” Although the word can have multiple meanings, in the context of shoujo it generally refers to pink hearts, sparkles, and school romance, all things you may very well see if you are to pick up a random volume of shoujo. Writers have been addressing how the girliness of shoujo is seen by people of all varieties, girls, guys, those intimately familiar with manga and those who hardly know anything, and any issues that arise from that perception.

The definition of shoujo manga comes into question as a result. Is shoujo defined by those aesthetic and thematic tropes, or is it something much broader? Is shoujo manga simply any comic that runs in a shoujo magazine, no matter the content? But while these are all very good questions, I feel like they are obscuring a very important idea that is more fundamental to manga and storytelling in general.

Setting aside whether or not shoujo is limited by tropes, average girls and impossibly handsome men covered in hearts and sparkles do not preclude good storytelling. It may not be someone’s cup of tea to read about the trials and tribulations of a 14 year old’s love triangle, but there is no ironclad rule stating that such a story cannot be not only entertaining but also legitimately good and able to speak to a wider audience.

Brigid Alverson equates shoujo manga with trashy romance novels, stating, “You read your chosen genre for relaxation, not literary quality.” While I do read shoujo for my own comfort, I also actively look for literary quality in it and am frequently rewarded as a result. I do not believe that it is some rare feat to find strong storytelling and strong characters in shoujo, whether it’s from the 70s or from this past decade, and that is also largely because I do not see shoujo as being limited by convention.

I’m not saying that one should just accept everything without a critical eye, but simply that when the reward is less stellar, one should not necessarily condemn the tropes from holding back shoujo, but perhaps view it as an individual story failing to use those elements in an effective manner. The potential for good, strong fiction is still there and the fact that the heroine’s parents died, conveniently leaving her to fend for herself, is not a death sentence for quality.  It is not only possible to appreciate both shoujo which has all the trappings of “girliness” as well as shoujo which eschews that aesthetic, but to appreciate both on equal levels. Just because you enjoy the unorthodox doesn’t mean that the orthodox is inherently worse or vice versa. Shoujo is both and everything in between, and in every case, whether the manga are adhering to convention or not, good stories can be told, and found, on a regular basis.

Review Time

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How soon after you watch something should you review it?

Over the course of writing Ogiue Maniax, I’ve taken different approaches to writing reviews. Sometimes Iwrite them almost immediately after watching something, while other times I wait a day or a week. In some instances the delay is a month or more. Writing a review right after finishing something means that the experience is very fresh, that a lot of the emotions you felt in watching it are still welling up inside, but expressing your thoughts so soon after can also mean that you haven’t had time to process everything. On the other hand, the longer you wait, the more distance you give yourself in order to really chew on the work, to really see what it says. Too much time however, and you might start to forget important things. But then if you forgot those things, were they really that important in your mind?

So then you might say, “Why not rewatch it? That way you’ll have your memories of having seen it the first time, and then also it’ll be fresh in your mind.” But while I’m in no way against rewatching a show for review purposes or otherwise, I have to wonder about what the process of rewatching does to your experience with a work. In my review of Xam’d, I talk about how the series pretty much thrusts you into a very complex situation with little or no explanation to the extent that you aren’t even sure who’s on what side until a few episodes later. Going back and rewatching those episodes after having finished at least a good portion of the series means you can actually see what is happening in those early episodes, but at the same time is that a good thing? Is it a positive that you have that greater clarity, or is the loss of that rushed, turbulent feeling detrimental to your experience with it? Lost memories, indeed.

One last question for you all: The concept of “reviewing” aside, do you feel the way you talk about a show or a film or a book changing as time passes, like when you compare your conversation right after you get out of the theater to when you’re talking about it one month later?

Onegai Dutch Dutch Koko ni Dutch

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So I’ve spent my first two days in Europe, getting slowly accustomed to the lifestyle here. While the schedule is fairly loose around here, I do not know how much time I really have to update Ogiue Maniax, nor do I know if I should. Is it a sign of slacking off? I guess that’s only the case if I’m using too much time that should be spent doing important manga research. In any case, as was made obvious by my lack of a post yesterday, the streak has been broken and it is a very likely chance that no longer will I be posting daily.

Part of what I was interested in was how cultures outside of the US and Japan perceive anime. Fortunately, I spoke with a Japanese (that is, ethnically) philosophy PhD today, who informed me that the Netherlands does indeed have one or two small anime conventions. Maybe I’ll check one of them out. It’d be an exciting experience, I think.

Anyway, this is the start of my path to changing the face of anime and manga academia. Wish me luck!

This Hand of Mine is Burning Red, It Tells Me to Watch Anime: Thoughts on Blogging

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Ever since THAT Anime Blog came out with its guides on how to establish yourself as a blogger, I’ve toyed around with the idea of writing my own. My intended approach was to focus less on steps for “establishing” a blog-like entity and more on the act of writing one’s feelings on anime and manga. As I started to think about it more though, I realized that as much as I can talk about the way I write, the last thing I want to do is to give the impression that my style is better or that you should be trying to write how I write.

But even though I don’t think I can write a proper guide for anime blogging at this point, I still want to convey what I think are essentials for anime blogging, or at the very least are pointers that will help you, whether you’ve already been blogging for years or you’ve just started thinking about committing your thoughts to your internet journal. I will still use myself as an example, but mainly so that I can give some context to my thoughts.

Think of the Possibilities

Before I even start to write, I approach anime blogging with the notion that there is always, always something interesting to talk about or to consider. Now a lot of times I don’t even manage to reach those interesting conversation points, but what’s important here is the mindset. Somewhere out there in the nebulous space of otaku-relevant thought is at least one on-going discussion that is worth exploring, or perhaps an idea that has yet to be expanded upon, or even an area into which you can funnel your own thoughts and opinions.

Anime series, manga series, comparing anime to manga, fandom itself, story, characters, episodes, story arcs, character design, costume design, political and philosophical messages, psychological elements of games, the possibilities are near-endless, and if I fail to talk about something interesting, I don’t think it’s anime’s fault for not having enough meat, but more my fault for having my attention caught up by other things.

Which isn’t a bad thing, really. I can’t fault someone for not feeling like they can write about anime or an anime-related subject because their mind was elsewhere. However, I think you can see that there’s a difference between “I couldn’t find anything interesting to talk about” and “There wasn’t anything interesting to talk about.”

Understand Yourself, or At Least Try to

If you’re looking to foster your “voice” as a writer or at least as an anime fan, I think it’s good to have a good sense of yourself and how you approach your anime fandom. Do you see any trends? Why do you think you like one show but not the other? Can you commit those thoughts to your keyboard in a way where others can understand where you’re coming from even if they disagree with you?

My personal voice as it has been established on this blog is one of creating connections. I look to connect seemingly disparate ideas with one another to foster conversation and at the same time connect readers with ideas both old and new so that they too can think more about themselves and their fandom. However, this is not entirely how Ogiue Maniax began, and it’s something that was only eventually established as I wrote more. So even if you feel like you don’t have a voice, or you don’t feel like you understand yourself as an anime fan, you can still treat your blog as a venue for self-exploration. It doesn’t even necessarily have to be about you. One possibility is to write your thoughts on two different shows and to just kind of compare your two posts and see if they differ any in tone, attitude, or some other area. Then, simply ask yourself, “why?”

Love It Even When You Hate It

The feeling that I really want to emphasize is joy. Anime blogging should be fun even when it’s frustrating and you feel like it might not be worth it to say anything. If you can keep it fun for yourself by watching fewer shows, do so. If it’s more fun when you focus on specific things, focus on that. If it becomes a bit of a chore, don’t be afraid to experiment and find something you do want to talk about. If you can get fired up over what’s wrong with a series instead of what’s right, talk about that provided you can do so with genuine gusto. Burn-out is fairly common within anime blogging, and the chief cause is a simple loss of passion. That’s not to say that you can’t sometimes get tired of writing about anime or whatever topic you’re on, but that even when you get the strange feeling that your blogging has turned into an obligation, it shouldn’t completely extinguish the flame of fandom that burns within you.

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.

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

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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.