Category Archives: thought exercise

Ao is His Father’s Son (Eureka Seven AO)

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Eureka Seven is one of my favorite anime ever, Eureka is one of my favorite characters ever in a show full of incredible characters, and I consider the pacing of the show to be among the best I’ve ever seen. It’s a tough act to live up to, and so with the new Eureka Seven AO currently running in Japan, I wanted to at least give it more than one episode before I started talking about it. Not that I thought that the first episode was bad and needed a second one to “give it a chance,” but my experience with the original told me that this may very well be a show which continually ramps up and whose threads (plot, thematic, or otherwise) are only barely visible in the beginning.

To cut straight to the chase, the main character Ao is clearly implied to be Eureka and Renton’s son. As a result, I feel like Ao inevitably draws comparisons to Renton, but also that the show obviously wants you to do so. The first episode of the original Eureka Seven was all about how Renton wanted to escape his boring, do-nothing town and join the fabulous rebels of Gekkostate, whereas Ao has to deal with the constant materialization of skub coral and the destruction it causes. On top of that, both have parents whose legacies at first seem larger than them, with Renton’s father Adrock being regarded as the greatest hero who ever lived and Ao having to cope with the fact that even mentioning his mother and her turquoise hair on the island garners animosity. The difference between the overbearingly positive reputation that Renton had to deal with and the overwhelmingly negative one that Ao must live with draws an additional interesting parallel, but I feel like it does so while making Ao seem like his own character.

It also doesn’t hurt that Ao’s relationship with his friend Naru is distinctly different from Eureka and Renton’s. It seems to be built on this strong friendship which goes beyond the immediate conventions of the island where they live, and I actually have it in my mind to judge anything related to Eureka Seven based primarily on how it handles its main romance. The reason is that when Eureka Seven was originally airing, during the breaks there would be commercials for the Eureka Seven: New Wave PS2 game where the slogan for the game was “Another Boy Meets Girl.” This of course implies that Renton and Eureka were themselves a “boy meets girl” story, and the fact that their romance was so unbelievably strong supporter that concept. In that respect, and many others, I continue to look forward to Eureka Seven AO. No guarantees it won’t wipe out (see what I did there), but I feel like it’s definitely off to a strong start.

Created Equals

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Warning: Spoilers for Aquarion EVOL in this post

Amidst fears that a television series starring the matron saint of anime femme fatales would be mired in an inescapable well of sexism, Lupin III: The Woman Named Mine Fujiko manages to assuage those worries through extremely sharp characterization. Say what you will about nudity or Fujiko as an object of sexual desire, but the show makes it clear that they all have the skills and the smarts to succeed in their mutual world of thievery. Even if trust is at a premium (as is often said), there is no shortage of respect between Fujiko, Lupin, and the rest, and with mutual respect comes a sense of equality.

I’m not about to decry anime and manga as being polluted with unequal male-female relationships, as I can think of many examples to counter that idea, enough so that they don’t collectively turn into “the exception that proves the rule,” but this very idea of representing gender-egalitarianism has me thinking about what goes into portraying such relationships. For example, if a boyfriend and girlfriend each alternate being “dominant,” then is that “equal” or is it merely just multiple instances of inequality? Does breaking things down for comparison defeat the idea of equality between a guy and a girl by putting too much emphasis on haves and have-nots, or is ignoring it a bigger mistake?

As far as recent anime goes, the other show besides Lupin: Fujiko which has me really considering the concept of equality among opposite sexes is Aquarion EVOL, particularly that of Yunoha and Jin, the (literally?) star-crossed lovers who seem to have taken Pixiv by storm. Yunoha is an extremely quiet girl whose very shyness translates into her power (invisibility), and when she meets Jin (an enemy spy whose power is to keep others away), the two form a bond which gradually grows stronger.

Between Yunoha’s diminutive size in multiple respects (in a series full of toned and busty girls, her proportions are significantly more subdued) and her personality, Yunoha can seem to carry a potential problem that is similar, yet in a certain sense opposite to that of Fujiko in the sense that she can come across as the girliest girl, harmless and pleasant and easy to dote upon. Yet, despite the awkwardness of some of her interactions with Jin which can come across as her being dominated (notably the part where he tries to kidnap her out of love so that she can be the mother of his children and save his woman-less population from dying out), I don’t get that sense from their relationship.

While Yunoha can seem weak, and even her willpower and inner strength aren’t particularly impressive, Jin in many ways seems even weaker despite the basic idea that he’s an extremely skilled pilot and a deadly fighter. There’s something to his personality, perhaps a combination of naivete and extremely subtle yet numerous emotional scars, which make even his “domination” seem weak. In that sense, I find their relationship to be a very equal one, but in the sense that the two seem to grow to understand each other, a resonance between similar, yet complementary individuals.

One of the big ideas I keep running into when it comes to portraying a character well with respect to their gender is “the right to be a weak character.” By that, I mean how weakness (mental, physical, emotional, etc.) is generally thought of as a trait which makes one character “lower” than another, and which implies that their appeal is in their “lower” status, but at the same time that weakness can resonate on a more “equal” level with those who perhaps find themselves similarly weak. I think this is probably part of what makes arguments over moe so volatile, but let’s leave that for another time.

(Please don’t argue over moe.)

Mysterious Girlfriend X is Somewhat Different in Anime Form

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I’m actually a pretty big fan of the manga Mysterious Girlfriend X, so I naturally had to check the anime out. While it followed the manga very closely, I still came away with a somewhat different experience (though not necessarily a bad one), and it has something to do with some of the choices they made in adaptation, as well as the very act of adaptation itself.

Mysterious Girlfriend X is definitely a weird concept that just isn’t for everybody. The story centers around a high school couple, Tsubaki Akira and his girlfriend Urabe Mikoto, and their connection through saliva, specifically the fact that Urabe’s drool seems to have paranormal properties related to empathy. As boyfriend and girlfriend, rather than kissing, they exchange saliva by finger. I’ve seen it argued that the series is solely for people who have a saliva fetish, but I think this is really shortchanging the series and its viewers, because the reasons for following it aren’t as overly specific and narrow as “liking drool.” The appeal is more basic than that, as you have this thrilling and bizarre romance between an established couple who share a bond that seems to go deeper than anyone else’s.

That said, I found the experience of watching the whole saliva exchange to be different between the anime and manga in a way I’m not entirely for. In the manga, the drool is kind of a visual motif, drawn very simply, something that while ever-present is almost just like a rendered symbol. In the anime, however, they go out of their way to make the drool glisten and glow, to give it depth and dimension. The real killer is the sound, because in addition to all the effort they put into it visually, they also tried to make it sound as loud and slimy as possible. Again, drool is definitely a part of the series, but I think a little too much attention is given there.

Another thing that makes the anime quite different is the lack of manga-style paneling. This is kind of unavoidable, as anime is a different medium that works along different rules (unless it went out of its way to mimic the panel-based structure of manga), but Mysterious Girlfriend X has really fantastic page composition and paneling, especially in its smart usage of the contrast between black and white. I even used it in my article about decompression in comics. Take a look at the page above, and you’ll see that even if you took every one of those panels and animated them together, it would simply lack the overall structure of the “columns” created by the characters. When you then add color to the film-like style of the anime, it just makes for a different impression.

There are also a couple of more minor things to note. The first is that the elaborate dream backgrounds, which are fully drawn in the manga, are rendered in CG in the anime. A practical change of course, but one which kind of takes away that impressive bit where you realize someone drew all of that. The second is that the voice actor for Urabe doesn’t sound like I imagined she would, though that’s more on my end than anything else. Her voice actor also seems to be quite new at this, showing something of a similar effect to Omigawa Chiaki in her days as Maka from Soul Eater.

I’m still going to keep watching Mysterious Girlfriend X, of course, and I’m probably going to enjoy it. I just wanted to say something about the subtle changes that are present, and perhaps how this speaks to the things that can occur in adaptation from one medium to another.

My Experience with “Fudanshism”

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As part of the ongoing project that is the Fujoshi Files, I’ve been reading Fudanshism and its sequel Fudanshifull! By Morishige (of Hanaukyo Maid Tai fame/infamy), the story is about a boy named Amata who can only get close to the fujoshi he loves by crossdressing.

Though at first I didn’t particularly enjoy this series, at some point I found myself growing attached to certain characters in particular, to the point that I looked forward to reading about them more. A natural progression, perhaps, but it’s important to note that this change of heart didn’t happen until about volume 4 (out of 7) of the first series. If you’re wondering why I kept reading despite being pretty unimpressed, when it comes to the Fujoshi Files, I try to read as much as is available. But because I “forced” myself to read through, I have to ask myself, how much of it is me genuinely starting to enjoy the series, and how much of it is the effects of otaku Stockholm Syndrome, where you’ve been with a work for so long despite signs that you should have abandoned ship long ago, and even the below-mediocre starts to be impressive?

One of my favorite characters is Toumine Michika, a ditzy (and ritzy) non-otaku girl who talks about moe like Homer Simpson talks about the internet, as if she’d say, “Oh, moe is in anime now, huh?”

When paired with another character, an always-exasperated male otaku named Matsumoto Senri, it makes for enjoyable comedy. It doesn’t hurt either that Toumine isn’t malicious or selfish; she simply likes to have fun, and she acts as a foil for Matsumoto. Though actually, Matsumoto seems to exist for the purpose of having foils, or maybe it’s better to say that he’s the perpetual tsukkomi character. I mention this because my other favorite character in the series is Matsumoto’s younger twin sister, Setsuna.

Unlike Toumine, Setsuna is very much a fujoshi, which alone wouldn’t make her stand out in a series where there are more fujoshi than male characters, but I really dig the fact that Setsuna always has this strangely diabolical look on her face. Her brother knows she’s a fujoshi, and knows the true nature of the gears constantly turning in her head, and it results in this interesting back-and-forth where he calls her “kimouto” (kimoi (disgusting) + imouto (little sister)), and she mockingly refers to him as “onii-chama.”

Then there’s Rittoku Kanae, resident gothic lolita/crossplayer with some particularly complex and interesting body issues when it comes to her large chest. When she first meets “Amane” (the main character in drag), she’s immediately able to tell that he’s really a guy because she knows from personal experience what hiding a developed female figure should look like. However, because Amane epitomizes her ideal image of how a woman should look, Kanae takes a liking to him. An additional twist is that she also has a crush on Amata but doesn’t realize the two are one in the same.

In any case, I find them a lot more interesting than the main characters, who are kind of bland overall. I get the feeling Morishige eventually thought this too, because there’s much more emphasis on them in Fudanshiful!

Thinking it over, I feel like I have very legitimate reasons for enjoying those characters, and that they make the series itself more enjoyable to read to the extent that, while I wouldn’t call myself a fan, I can say that I liked it overall. The odd part is that I wouldn’t really expect anyone to stick with the series as long as I had to get to the point where I changed my mind about it. At the same time, I can’t deny that it did get better, and not just for the characters but also artistically, as Morishige’s ability to convey information visually improves as the manga goes on. My dilemma isn’t so much if I would recommend the series, but more, what does the very act of sticking through with a series do to one as a consumer of entertainment?

SRWZ2 Saisei-hen Out Already?! And It Has Tetsujin 28?!

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Recent events have made me aware of how out of the loop I am with the mecha fandom. Whereas I would’ve once known and posted about it within days of the first announcement, this time I wasn’t even aware of it until someone linked me to a video the day it came out.

(Thanks, Jorge.)

Probably the most surprising thing about the new game is that, finally, after something like 20 years’ worth of games in the franchise, the grandfather of the heroic giant robot, Tetsujin 28, has made its SRW debut. Now, all of the questions about how Shoutarou factors in will be put to rest (he doesn’t even appear next to the robot, meaning he won’t accidentally get smashed by falling debris).

Granted, it’s not the original 1960s Tetsujin 28 here, but rather the 1980 remake, Emissary of the Sun Tetsujin 28 (not to be confused with Emissaries of Light Cure Black and Cure White, or Brave of the Sun Fighbird). I have to wonder why they decided to go with this iteration, as opposed to the ultra-90s remake, or the more recent Imagawa adaptation, but I figure it probably has to be for one of two reasons (or maybe a combination of the two). First, its style meshes the best with all of the other robots in the series, and so it has the least chance of sticking out. Original Tetsujin, which also appears in the 2004 version, is too clunky and rough, and the 90s version is too beefy and doesn’t share enough of the iconic look of the original. Second, as per the reason Space Emperor God Sigma got into SRWZ (the director said, “I liked it as a kid so now it’s in the games), maybe someone just wanted it in there.

One thing I find interesting, however, is the fact that they managed to get Tetsujin 28 in any form into the game at all. I remember hearing that back when Super Robot Wars Alpha 3 came out that they were originally going to have Giant Robo: The Animation in, just as they had it in the first Alpha game, but that the license had become too expensive after the creator of Giant Robo and Tetsujin 28, Yokoyama Mitsuteru, passed away. But now years later we have what might be his most lasting legacy ever in an SRW game. What gives? Was that rumor merely just that? Is the cost perhaps the reason why there are so few new series in Saisei-hen? Does being an adaptation factor in, much like Godmars?

In any case, check out the game’s animation. It is fantastic.

Maybe I Don’t Read Enough Manga

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Given the fact that I dedicate an entire blog to anime and manga, it might be strange for me to think that one of my problems is that I don’t read enough manga. Many burned-out bloggers cite the activity of blogging itself ends up taking a chunk out of their actual enjoyment time with the stuff they love, but that’s not really what I’m feeling here. My posting rate is consistent but light enough for me that, while I do sometimes feel the pressure of thinking of something to say, I don’t treat it as a chore.

Part of it may have to do with the fact that, although I can read Japanese, I do have my limitations and one of them is speed. I just can’t read fast enough. That’s only a part of it, though. Instead, I have this strange sense that I don’t quite have a proper pulse on manga as it currently is, and by extension manga as it has been. When I’m reading a bunch of manga in the same genre or for the same demographic, I get this strange sensation that I’m continuously boxing myself in too much, that I need to keep expanding my horizons. And so I do, I keep reading more, I keep trying new things out, but it’s like I can’t try them fast enough. I want to feel everything manga has to offer, to understand it as well as I possibly can, but somehow it’s just not enough, like I’m losing my connection to it.

What I’m experiencing may be somewhat the opposite of burn-out, though not in the way that you feel when you initially dive head first into a new obsession, where you have to consume every little bit that you can possibly find, good or bad. Rather, it’s this unusual melancholy where instead of feeling like way too much, it feels like not enough.

Ishiguro

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Last week saw the passing of one of the greatest anime directors of all time, Ishiguro Noboru. I’m not an expert on Ishiguro, so I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk as if I am keenly aware of his entire history. Instead, I would like to just talk about his impact on a more personal level.

Ishiguro’s list of influential works is almost second to none, and I know from personal experience that his finest works stand the test of time in a way that few can. Back in 2004, I was a college student who finally managed to get all of the original Super Dimensional Fortress Macross. The show was so utterly engrossing that I managed to finish all 36 episodes in two nights. During that time, I felt myself moving from cheering for Minmay to cheering for Misa; the way the show had developed and grown its characters amidst the backdrop of pop-songs-as-simple-ideals and war made it feel like I might  never experience that kind of thrill burning through a show again. Then came late Autumn 2008, and Legend of the Galactic Heroes.

At a daunting 110 episodes, it wasn’t a show that was really possible to marathon in a short period, but I still found myself often unable to stop. This wouldn’t have been any sort of a problem except at the time I was also studying for my Level 2 Japanese Language Proficiency Test. Was it worth it to cut into my study time so much? Well, the fact that I managed to pass probably colors my reflection, but again I was treated to one of the most well-crafted, intelligent, and hopeful pieces of fiction I’ve ever had the privilege to enjoy. I know Macross and LOGH aren’t Ishiguro’s only works, and there are even people who hold them far more dear than I do, but together they shape much of my views of the man.

I first had the opportunity to talk to Ishiguro as part of a press conference at Otakon 2009, and asked him a question about Nagahama Tadao, director of Combattler V, Voltes V, and Daimos. The way I framed my question was that since Nagahama had passed away decades prior, the only way to really know about him was to ask those who had worked with him, which included Ishiguro. Reflecting on this question, I realize that I had mentally placed the idea of Ishiguro dying far away from Nagahama’s own passing.

Then at Otakon 2011, I attended a panel which had both Ishiguro and Shinkai Makoto (5cm per Second, Place Promised in Our Early Days), and seeing the significant age gap between the old veteran and the newer talent and how that difference also meant the difference between cel and digital animation, I asked if Shinkai had any advice for Ishiguro. I caused a fair amount of light-hearted controversy for suggesting that the younger Shinkai could advise Ishiguro on the craft in which he made his name, but Ishiguro was more than open to it. For a man who was still looking for his next anime to work on, the hierarchy of age didn’t matter to him.

One question about the past and the old, one question about the future and the young, both assuming the man would live for many more years to come. Funny how things work.

I hope Angel Scandies makes it somehow.

Forgetting Spoilers

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Spoilers can be hard enough to avoid even without the internet, but in this age of Twitter, blogs, chats, Facebook, etc., it can be especially difficult.  It doesn’t necessarily ruin the viewing experience, but for anyone who’s ever had the ending to a show revealed prematurely or accidentally seen the score of a game they hadn’t watched yet, it can take the wind out of your sails a little. I have a way of dealing with spoilers already read, however, and while it isn’t fool-proof, it has worked for me on multiple occasions.

So let’s start off with some generic spoiler:

I can’t believe his dad was really a gorilla and that the conspiracy began in 1327.

First thing, don’t read that sentence again!

Now, do you have any doubts as to what it said? If so, this is good. You basically have to let the doubts in your mind make the memory of what you just read increasingly hazy. What was the sentence about? What was the big twist? If you can’t remember exactly, then the uncertainty of your memory can make even the things you know you read seem subject to ambiguity.

Once you’ve made your memories a sufficient mush, the final trick is to just let it go. Stop thinking about it, period. Give yourself some time, like a few minutes or maybe even a few hours or days, and don’t even let it cross your mind. Eventually, by the time you do think about it again, there’s a good chance the faulty elements of your short and/or long-term memory will have scrambled the spoiler to the point that it’s at least less of an issue.

Did I just create a guide to encourage doublethink? Well, best to just forget about that.

The “Real Fan”

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Though I don’t talk about it often here, I enjoy watching Starcraft, be it Brood War or the current Starcraft 2. Currently, competitive Starcraft 2 is enjoying something of a boom, with tournaments and teams popping up all over the world, from Korea to Ukraine to Las Vegas. This past weekend, one organization tried their hand at a new tournament broadcast format: pay per view.

Typically, Starcraft 2 tournaments are free to view online in some capacity, with additional content available at a cost, such as higher quality video, additional video streams, or recorded match videos you can watch after the live event is over. Major League Gaming, known as having the most exciting Starcraft 2 tournaments in North America, decided that they would have a supplemental event called the “MLG Winter Arena” and that it would require $20 to view live. This barrier to entry in turn caused a large amount of discussion, whether or not $20 was simply too much, business models for eSports organizations, etc. I personally did not pay to watch MLG Winter Arena, especially given that there was a second big tournament going on at the time.

One comment I saw cropping up repeatedly had to do with being a “real fan.” The idea was that if Starcraft 2 tournaments were so important to you, why wouldn’t you prioritize them? For those who can’t afford it at all, there’s no choice, but for those who can, isn’t the product worth its value (tons of big names, very good production values, promises of extremely intense competition). I had the money, but I didn’t use it. For me, as much as I love spectating, Starcraft is not my primary passion or hobby, and if given a choice between spending money on something anime/manga-related and spending money on SC2, I’ll typically lean towards the Japanese comics.

That’s not to say I’m not willing to spend money on Starcraft at all. I felt that the convenience of being able to watch matches any time instead of adhering myself to the Korean time zone was reason enough for me to subscribe to GOMTV’s Global Starcraft 2 League. But I didn’t get the premium package, I got the light one. All of those nice perks offered for the extra money weren’t worth it for me, and I’m glad they gave me the choice. That’s one thing that GOMTV correctly recognized that seemed to get lost in this flurry of discussion: Starcraft fandom (or any fandom in general) does not exist in a binary setting where it’s either one or the other. People can like something, but there may be a limit to how much they like it, especially if money is involved.

Manga and Women in Refrigerators

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Introduction

If you were to ask an avid and informed fan of superhero comics about controversies surrounding the portrayal of women in the cape-and-mask genre, you might get answers having to do with the male gaze, or the number of female protagonists, or perhaps even whether or not comics need to do more to attract female readers. In every case though, the focus can potentially lead to the phenomenon known as “Women in Refrigerators.”

Coined in 1999 by comics writer Gail Simone (probably most famous for her work on Birds of Prey, a series starring a team of female superheroes), “Women in Refrigerators” refers to a tendency for female characters in superhero comics to be either killed, abused, raped, or depowered in what seems to frequently be a move to anger or inspire a male superhero into action, or to intensify the hatred between the hero and his nemesis. Named after the Green Lantern character Kyle Rayner depicted above (who not only literally finds one of his girlfriends in a fridge but has also lost a number of significant others in his career), WiR has been an on-going discussion among comic fans for the past 12 years. In spite of the age and scope of the topic though, the conversation has not really penetrated the realm of anime and manga.

Given arguments over things like moe and lolicon and how Japanese society treats women, what of “Women in Refrigerators in Manga?” Furthermore, whether they’re informed or ignorant, with the number of people who have spoken or written about WiR in the superhero comics community, what would happen if they all focused their attention more towards manga?

Casca from Berserk, a strong female character horribly traumatized by brutal rape

When initially thinking about the topic, a number of questions came to mind. Would they look at manga and find it to be more sexist than superhero comics? Is the lack of a similar phrase or concept in manga a potential problem for it and any movements towards improving manga? However, I soon realized that WiR and its surrounding discourse are very much shaped by the superhero genre itself; evidence of this includes the whole idea of being “depowered,” something which holds a lot more weight in a setting where super powers are the x-factor in the story.

Of course, comparing one genre to the entirety of manga makes things quite unfair, but even when you narrow it down to, say, shounen fighting and action series, or even a single magazine such as Shounen Jump, the setup of superhero comics has particularly unique consequences.

Conceptual Paradox in the Superhero Genre

The basic superhero (of which Superman is probably the most well-known example) is someone who is somehow stronger, faster, and overall better than the average human, and this allows them to right wrongs. Where the regular authorities falter, the superhero-as-vigilante can come in and thrash the bad guys and make the world a better place. These settings rely on an environment fairly close to our own, one grounded in a similar default reality so that we can compare the ideal of the superhero to the everyday, but it also makes for a world that can start to unravel if the concept is pushed too far.

Adding a superhero to an otherwise normal world can transform it entirely, and when you begin to really question the effects a particular superhero can have on his environment,  you wind up with questions like “If Mr. Fantastic is so smart, why hasn’t he found a cure for cancer?” While there are comics which do explore in detail the influence superheroes can have on society (Watchmen, for instance), and the Mr. Fantastic question isn’t some magic contradiction that destroys the superhero genre, it does point to the idea that a typical superhero story has to set its boundaries if it doesn’t want such questions jumping out at its readers.

The idea of boundaries isn’t limited to superheroes, as just about any story which adds something “superhuman” while wishing to maintain a semblance of normalcy has to draw the line somewhere. The tricky thing with superhero comics, however, is that the manner in which they have developed over the years encourages readers to find those limits through the prominent usage of a shared universe. When a comic is just about Batman, you can see how he fights crime and strikes fear into the seedy underbelly of Gotham City. When you cross him over with Superman though, suddenly Batman is put in contrast with a near-omnipotent alien who can outclass him fifty different ways. The reason to join them together is not to just make Batman look bad but rather to afford both heroes sufficient respect, so it requires Batman to have something extra to make up for it.

Where once he could just be a clever and ingenious individual, Batman is now the smartest man on Earth, armed with the most complex contingency plans ever conceived by man, all to make him Superman’s equal. In manga terms, this would be the equivalent of putting Monkey D. Luffy and Son Goku in the same universe and having to find a way for Luffy to be as powerful and influential as the Dragon Ball protagonist, like saying that Luffy’s rubber body makes him more resistant to ki blasts or something. As Marvel and DC actively promote their shared universes, this type of comparison becomes almost inevitable, and when you’re comparing, then the superhero universe comes under at least a certain degree of scrutiny.

If you then add the on-going saga aspect that is “continuity” to that mix, then the world of the hero can be scrutinized not just in terms of space, but also time. Superhero comics encourage a long-term view of its characters, where the events build on top of each other to create a loose history. And given the longevity that some of these characters possess, an action 30 years ago can continue to be associated with that character. In a comic from 1981, Avengers character Hank Pym hit his wife Janet , and it became a recurring topic all the way up until she died a few years ago. If they were to just ignore it and have the two characters act like nothing had ever happened, then it would have been perhaps silently condoning spousal abuse. However, because they kept it, it wound up defining the characters in certain respects. Although one can argue that this enriched their characters, it also meant that once it was done, neither of them could return to what they were prior to it. And while things are re-written or counteracted on a somewhat regular basis in superhero comics, this shared universe setup means that just one bad decision by one creator can potentially define a character to the point that no amount of reboots or retcons can undo its influence.

One Woman, One Refrigerator, One Universe

Let’s go back to manga for a little bit and pick a title that most definitely has female characters that are WiR candidates: Fist of the North Star. Now I love this series and consider it among my all-time favorites, but its female characters range from essentially cheerleaders to useless. Going in the style of the original Women in Refrigerators post, I’m going to list them with a list of ways they’ve been “fridged.”

Yuria (above) abused, forced to become Shin’s lover, kills herself (not really), contracts a fatal illness from long-term radiation exposure

Mamiya turned into a sex slave, her lover Rei dies, stops fighting entirely

Lin almost forced to have Kaioh’s baby, brainwashed into falling in love with another man

And so on and so forth.

Women are kind of a non-factor in Fist of the North Star no matter what they say about love and no matter how many women nobly sacrifice themselves. But at the same time, the fact that Fist of the North Star ran in Shounen Jump doesn’t mean that its portrayal of women exists in the same environment as One Piece or Toriko or City Hunter. Misogyny can exist, and it can even exist in multiple titles from the same publisher in the same magazine to the extent that you could call the whole thing sexist, but there is less of a risk of the comics congealing into an entrenched, constantly self-reinforcing “super misogyny.”

With superhero comics and their long continuity and shared universes, it can be incredibly easy to permanently “poison the well.” In this environment, a single instance of a WiR does not stand alone in its own conceptual space, but ends up existing in a greater universe, and then stays there in the timeline potentially forever. While this is not inherently a bad thing, it means that more innocent and simplistic stories and concepts have a harder time maintaining that innocence. If someone said The Cat in the Hat and Schindler’s List occupied the same continuity, it would be very hard for Dr. Seuss’s characters to be quite the same when the idea of genocide hangs over them.

This can even apply to the degree to which women are sexualized in comics. Somewhat like how “Hollywood Ugly” requires you to believe that the attractive celebrity in baggy clothes and glasses is meant to be homely, if you take a title where the aesthetic portrayal of women is geared primarily towards the sexual gratification of men and put it in the same world as a comic where the attractiveness of women is depicted in a more neutral fashion, then there is bound to be a conceptual clash, especially if the two were to cross over directly. Either the overt “butt and breasts out” poses would have to be acknowledged directly with respect to how a woman would normally pose herself (accounting of course for stylistic flourish), or the more neutral design would have to be subsumed by the overtly erotic aesthetic. If respect is supposedly afforded to both portrayals, then there winds up being a compromise, much like Superman and Batman’s situation, that generates at least a certain degree of schizophrenia.

It can also be easy to poison the well of a shared universe because once that idea takes root in one corner of the world, it becomes easier for it to spread to other parts as well, and I think this is what ends up really shaping Women in Refrigerators in terms of the superhero genre. While I may be assuming things too much, I think it’s far easier to corrupt an innocent idea than it is to make a corrupted idea turn innocent, and so every time another woman gets killed or raped or depowered, it means less and less of a chance for that whole thing to be turned around entirely, which means the rate at which the universe becomes “darker” winds up being far faster than the rate at which it becomes “lighter,” unless deliberate steps are taken to work against it.

Given everything I’ve said about the danger of a shared universe, does this mean that any sort of shared universe will lead to similar problems? Not necessarily, but I think that regardless of which direction that universe goes, compromise is almost inevitable. When Neon Genesis Evangelion with its emphasis on psychological turmoil enters the crossover environment of the Super Robot Wars games, its story and characters end up less traumatized overall. When Lupin III meets Detective Conan, his role is more of a lovable scamp than a hardened thief. Even taking darker series and making them lighter to fit in another work is a form of compromise. However, neither of those bother to maintain their continuities for prolonged periods. Moreover, while a shared universe does not guarantee Women in Refrigerators, the way that superhero comics have turned out means that it is constantly poised to do so, and as far as I can tell, the discussion surrounding WiR is very much about a concerted effort to turn things around, to deal with what may very well be a case of inertia.

Towards Methods for Manga?

A quote from Gail Simone in 1999 clarifies one of the original purposes of Women in Refrigerators:

My simple point has always been: if you demolish most of the characters girls like, then girls won’t read comics. That’s it!

This is not as much of a problem for manga, even titles and magazines designed for boys, as many publishers in Japan have learned ways to court a female audience. Some titles in Shounen Jump are especially known for their sizable female readerships: Saint Seiya, Katekyou Hitman REBORN!, and The Prince of Tennis, to name a few. Granted, most of these titles have primarily male casts and so the portrayal of female characters is not the primary draw, but that is also getting into another more complex issue of gender-based character identification. I’ll leave this as something of an aside for the sake of not going too off-course, but will say that this might mean that it doesn’t take outstanding portrayals of women to attract a female audience, but at the very least ones that won’t make them feel uncomfortable to be women.

As it is, the “Women in Refrigerators” discourse is especially suited for the superhero genre. Its concerns and the manner in which it can quickly spread to other stories are at least partly predicated on the structure set out by decades of development. If WiR is to be applied to manga, or even a certain genre or magazine/publisher, then it likely needs to be modified to fit a very different history, both in terms of manga itself and the Japanese culture surrounding it. Personally, I’m not entirely sure what changes need to be made. It’s probably an endeavor that is too big for one post, but I can throw out some possible directions.

I think the killing, rape, and abuse aspects probably translate adequately as is, but to go back to the “depowered” aspect of WiR as something very particular to superheroes, perhaps it would be a good idea to find something that is not quite so specific. If we’re dealing with a genre like shounen action, your Dragon Ball‘s and Naruto‘s and such, then maybe it’s not so much a matter of depowering as it is being quickly outclassed or made irrelevant. A lot of characters in these works often get some kind of improvement to their abilities, but that is made obsolete by the fact that every other hero gets stronger at a quicker rate. While this is not exclusive to female characters, it may be something worth tracking among female characters to see how they’re made to be functionally useless.

If we’re looking more at sexually-charged (but not necessarily pornographic) titles, maybe it would be wise to keep an eye out for degradation or humiliation. For example, how often are characters made to do something or wear an outfit that not only embarrasses them, but sexualizes them in the process? What of humiliation as a sexual tool, even when it’s meant to be light-hearted prodding and not something more extreme like torture?

Maybe it would also be a good idea to take a look at one popular title and to note where the female characters are mistreated solely to advance the male characters’ stories. After that is done, the next step would be to look at works that may have come about as the result of its popularity, whether it was because there was a clear influence, there was a blatant attempt at riding the wave, it was the next title readers flocked to, or even if there was some kind of editorial mandate to feature more of those stories. Do some of those WiR-esque ideas and portrayals still exist? Are they getting weaker or stronger? This may be a way to track things across one magazine or one genre without having the shared universe of superhero comics.

Of course, this is all assumes that WiR is not an issue when the female readership has been established and sustained sufficiently, but what about the possibility that the phenomenon not only exists in shoujo and josei, but that such events might occur in greater numbers compared to manga geared towards male readers?

What I’ve provided in the ideas above would not comprise a complete framework, but then again neither did the original list of Women in Refrigerators. There is a distinct possibility that with each genre of manga, even if you were to narrow it to titles somehow similar to superhero comics, that it would require its own adjustments be they subtle or broad. It may even be the case that in the end, we find out that WiR cannot be applied to manga no matter how many modifications are made, but I think it would still be a worthwhile endeavor to figure that out in the first place. I’m sure we’d learn something along the way.