The Hardships of Raising a Child in the Ghetto: District 9

A few days ago I saw the new movie District 9. Having passively avoided all of the explicit advertising for the movie that would explain any of the story at all, I came in with fresh eyes, and by the time it was over I felt pretty amazed. The movie takes a variety of unusual elements and ideas, such as its balanced blend of strong science fiction elements in a real-world setting of sorts, as well as its documentary-style camera work and uses them to approach a variety of themes, from fatherhood to xenophobia. However, for all of its scope, it is ultimately is a very personal and very emotional story, and that is what makes the movie so strong. It takes all of these wild and disparate elements, presents them naturally, and then tells a surprisingly localized tale of a man not knowing what will become of him. In other words, much like Up, it shares a lot in common with many of the best anime titles.

While not a strength exclusive to anime, I’ve always felt that this recurring ability to take very unorthodox plot settings, be they science fiction or otherwise, and tell a very emotional story with them is one of the hallmarks of Japanese animation and one of the key ingredients to drawing in new fans and keeping them there. As is the case in District 9, when done well or even half-decently, the various parts of the story do not fight each other for your attention.

One might say that the very idea of doing any sort of complex story and having it be a cartoon is unorthodox enough of a setting, but it might also be the case that such unusual trappings and the meat contained therein is generally helped by the stylistic coherency that comes with making something animated. Generally I say, because as you can see there’s a movie called District 9 which manages to do it all with real actors.

On a final note, I’d just like to say that the CG characters themselves were also fantastic and arguably better than the humans. The level of attention they were given is something the Transformers movie franchise should learn from.

“Liking Less” vs “Disliking”

While not something I see as often as of late, I remember for a while noticing how people’s tastes in anime shift, particularly in their transition from new fan to fairly hardcore. What may sometimes accompany this transition is a desire to do away with the past and to deny how one used to be, specifically by ridiculing one’s former self for liking certain specific anime titles. The most common form of this is, “I used to like Anime X, but now I like Anime Y, and so Anime X sucks.” It’s that mindset I want to specifically address.

Obviously people’s tastes change over time, and the things you may have been in love with at one point may not hold your fancy years down the line. This applies to many things beyond anime, from food to relationships. I just find it funny though that people, in this case anime fans, would be so quick to divorce themselves from their pasts, to say that liking certain titles is not something they should be doing once they’ve discovered finer entertainment. Again, I’m not saying you can’t end up disliking something you used to like, but that to do so actively only leads to an endless cycle of dissatisfaction.

To this end, I was considering the life of a manga artist. Manga artists in general get better over time. Their art and their ability to tell a story via visuals improve or at the very least might change. Sometimes the shift is so subtle that you don’t notice how different the artwork’s become until you compare Volume 1 with Volume 20. Now let’s say a person fell in love with a manga at Volume 1 and kept reading throughout, and arrived at Volume 20 and then looked at the artwork in both. To his surprise, Volume 20 looks much, much better and by comparison Volume 1 looks unrefined, perhaps almost amateurish.

Then let’s say the fan, having been exposed to the quality of Volume 20, went and read another manga with art on the level of Volume 1, he would reject it because his tastes have become “better.” Which is all well and good, but what happens when he reaches the superior artwork of Volume 40? Or Volume 60? Does Volume 20 no longer meet his or her criteria? When will this ever end?

I’d like to believe that there’s a distinct difference between liking something less and disliking it altogether, but I know that people’s emotions, even my own, are not so easy to bottle and tame and act as if everything and everyone can get along. Even one of my heroes, Megaman creator Inafune Keiji, said that if one of his artists today brought artwork on the level of what he himself drew for Megaman 1, Inafune would call it terrible and reject it immediately. That’s the way it goes.

When the Visitor is the Tour Guide: Reviewing Unfamiliar Genres

I spent last weekend watching some awesomely bad anime with friends. One title that stood out though, that is the very opposite of bad, was the OVA Baoh, based on the work of Araki Hirohiko, creator of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. This was not my first time watching Baoh, as it was actually one of the seminal titles that made me into an anime fan when my brother brought it home years ago, but it’d been well over a decade since I last laid eyes on the blue man who shoots needle lasers from his hair, and I was eager to revisit. It was an uproarious time, and it sports one of the best dubs ever. Listen to the Anime World Order review of it to give yourself a better idea of the glory of Baoh.

Just for fun, I decided to look on Anime News Network for a review of Baoh, and what I found was a terribly misguided summary of the OVA, with choice quotes such as this:

Making matters even worse is the show’s ludicrous habit of freezing the action mid-battle to display the names of BAOH‘s attacks. Do we really need to know that BAOH has just performed the “Reskini Harden Saber Phenomenon”? Is there a quiz after the show?

Now, I can obviously forgive this review as it comes from a less enlightened era of anime fandom (2003) and most likely the original writer has improved and matured since then, but it does bring up a recurring problem in the realm of anime discussion: Those who know little about a show’s content or genre discussing the work from a position of authority.

Anyone who’s watched action-based anime knows that the Special Move Name Displayed at the Bottom of the Screen is a common theme in such shows, and is often used for dramatic effect in ways similar to the combination sequence for giant robot anime. This is why the above quote is so off-putting; it shows a lack of knowledge of the type of show Baoh is trying to be, even if it doesn’t pull it off perfectly. I feel that it’s like criticizing a Power Rangers show for using spandex and rubber suits, or a harem anime for featuring lots of attractive girls. It’s a problem which still plagues ANN from time to time, though I understand that when you review professionally, you can’t always pick what you want to review.

I’m not saying that people should not discuss or review anime of genres and tropes to which they’re unfamiliar or for which they have a strong dislike, but that to do so while assuming a position of authority just makes a person look uninformed and trying to toot his or her own horn, rather than actually look at the work.

In summary, if you’re going to give a negative review of Twilight, you can complain about how you think the writing is awful. You can complain about characterization. You can complain about the portrayal of vampires in the story, or even lament the popularity of the suave, handsome vampire. What you can do but should not however, is complain about the fact that there are vampires in Twilight in the first place, because–Surprise!–this series is about vampires.

Even More Podcast Hijinks: Ogiue Maniax on Anime3000

Two in a row! Who would have thought?

In case you didn’t tire of my voice yesterday, here I am again.

On this Anime3000 podcast, Hisui from Reverse Thieves, Moritheil, and I discuss the Summer and Fall seasons of anime, mainly what shows we’ve watched and what shows we’re looking forward to. More info at the Anime3000 site.

Ogiue Maniax and the Reverse Thieves Talk Otakon on Ani-Gamers

A while back I was on the Ani-Gamers podcast along with the Reverse Thieves where we talked about our experiences at Otakon 2009 this past July in Baltimore. There’s some overlap with my written review of the invent, but I invite you to listen anyway and hear us crack wise in Real Time.

This episode of Ani-Gamers can be found here.

Style Born out of Necessity

In Fred Schodt’s book The Astro Boy Essays, Fred points out that many of the qualities and traits of Japanese “limited” animation (as opposed to Disney-esque “full animation”) could trace their origins back to Tezuka Osamu’s original Tetsuwan Atom anime TV series, a series which was impeded by a staggeringly low budget that all but required these sorts of animaton “shortcuts.” Critics in Japan at that time would remark that the qualities of anime described above, qualities that were born out of necessity, gave anime much of its distinctive Japanese style and that it was in certain ways better than Disney-style full animation.

Of course, not everyone agreed, and others saw the fact that the limited animation style was because of a lack of money, and could not see it as a “style.” Evidently, Tezuka himself had mixed feelings about it: he was happy that these cost-cutting measures allowed him to animate Atom in the first place, but as a loyal fan of Walt Disney it hurt him to be unable to use the full animation he loved so much to bring Atom to life.

There is a sort of latent fear that goes hand in hand with the use of limited animation, and it is the fear of limited animation gone awry: Still frames, camera pans on single images, talking heads, if a show consists of nothing but blatant animation shortcuts, how can it be called animation? From that perspective, the concept of full animation seems safer, but it too carries its own pitfalls, namely “over-animation.” This is where an animation wants to show off its use of full animation so much that everything is animated and nothing ever stays still, to the point that it is difficult to concentrate on what’s actually happening in a cartoon. That’s not to say that it is impossible to do either extreme well, but that ultimately the answer lies somewhere in the middle given the limitations.

A similar problem occurs in 3D animation. Sometimes an animator will work very hard on a scene and it will look visibly impressive and absolutely gorgeous. However, because of the ease of replication in 3D animation, where with a simple switch of the camera angle you can use the same animation or effect and make it seem like it’s entirely new, many animators become tempted. They are so proud of their work that they want to use it again, and again, and again, until it loses all meaning and impact, much like the animators who wanted everything in a frame to move in order to prove just how amazing their animation could be. At this point, the animators must choose to limit themselves, to realize that their tools while seemingly infinite will not produce an infinitely enjoyable experience.

People are boxed in by their limitations, but within those limitations they find ways to improve and to get the most out of what they have. Then, should those limitations no longer be necessary, the people who worked in that style might continue to do so, having honed their technique all those years, and from there it no longer becomes a necessary step but a stylistic choice. Among those stylistic choices are stylistic limitations, to keep a work from being overwhelmed by seemingly endless potential.

What’s amazing about this concept, style born out of necessity, is how often it occurs in art: Tezuka and Tetsuwan Atom leading to the prevalent style of the anime Industry is one example, but you also have video game music of the 80s and 90s giving birth to the “chiptunes” (electronic music made through sound chips, generally the kind found in video games and computers) scene, and even oils becoming one of the de facto forms of paint, among many others. What’s even more amazing is that when you move well beyond the era in which the artistic style was born, well beyond the memories of anyone who was alive to experience that era, you get fresh minds and fresh faces who can approach material with few preconceived notions.

A while back I attended a outdoors chiptunes concert with some friends. While I was enjoying the music myself, I also noticed that a small boy, no more than four years old, enjoying the hell out of the chiptunes. At first I thought it was cute, but then something occurred to me: this kid had been born well after the heyday of the NES and SNES, and so he wasn’t enjoying chiptunes out of some sense of nostalgia, but rather out of the aesthetics he had acquired in the little time he had been alive. It gave me hope that we would be rid of the idea that just because a style was born out of necessity that it would not be considered inherently inferior.

I Am/Am Not an Otaku: The Reverse Thieves’ Otaku Diaries and the Definition of Otaku

After an initial introduction of the demographics of those who chose to partake in the Otaku Diaries, the Reverse Thieves have released the second part of their study. This time around, the discussion centers around the word “otaku” and what it means to anime fans.

A large number of their results showed that many anime fans consider the word “otaku” to have negative connotations and may even be upset if someone referred to them as an otaku. It is, in other words, an insult. Sometimes, the negative connotations come from wanting to distance oneself from the “other” anime fans, e.g. socially inept naruto fans, and other times they stem from wanting to use the word as the Japanese use it. Of course, I can’t be the only one to see the irony in a person denying that they’re an otaku while also championing the true, JAPANESE definition of the word, or at least their interpretation of the Japanese definition.

I remember years ago when I was part of a Pokemon community on the internet (the Team Rocket Headquarters if you want to know), where one of the site owners got very upset whenever someone called him an otaku, insisting that the term was in reality extremely derogatory and that it should only be used for the most extreme cases of anime fandom. It was around that time that I began developing my hypothesis on the Path of  Otaku Self-Acceptance, or the path the typical anime fan takes when confronted with the term “otaku.”

Phase 1) I Want to Be an Otaku!

This phase is usually the first one that new anime fans feel. Anime is fresh and exciting, and they want to see more and more of it. They consider the status of “otaku” to be a goal to strive for. However, if they start to sour towards the anime community they may enter…

Phase 2) Don’t Call Me an Otaku!

This is the point at which you find many of the subjects of the Otaku Diaries, as well as many anime fans you know. Sometimes they genuinely are just not that into anime and don’t want to be considered hardcore fans, but often times you see that many of the people who fall into this category are simply in denial. They hide their anime fandom from others as hard as they can, and they will put on airs so that no one can discover their terrible, terrible secret. Eventually, some of them pretend not to be otaku so hard that they permanently make the switch. Others, however, may grow tired of the charade and come to acceptance. That is what leads them to…

Phase 3) I am an Otaku

This is the point at which people realize that “Otaku” is just a descriptor. It is no more a self-inherent badge of shame or badge of pride than any other part of a person’s life, like saying “I am short” or “I work in construction.” It’s where I hope to see more anime fans, and I believe it’s the key to becoming true to oneself, provided you actually are an otaku.

I am an Otaku. Are you?

My Modern Take on the Tezuka Star System

Tezuka Osamu, the “God of Manga,” is famous for many innovations in comics and basically influencing the entirety of the manga industry we see today. His techniques for cinematic paneling, use of comics to tell long and drawn-out stories, as well as breadth and depth of topics basically helped define manga as we know it. Even the comics that tried to reject Tezuka’s methods were still a reaction to Tezuka’s work.

One technique Tezuka introduced is something referred to as Tezuka’s “Star System.” Tezuka grew up in Takarazuka, home of the Takarazuka Revue theatre where an all-female cast would give stage performances. Much like actors in a play, Tezuka’s characters would assume different-yet-similar roles across the manga he created, like Orson Welles playing Kane in Citizen Kane, Harry Lime in the Third Man, and Unicron in Transformers. However, the “Star System” concept never really caught on among anime and manga creators and remains something generally unique to Tezuka. “Generally,” I say, because I can think of at least one relatively recent example of the Star System in use.

My-HiME came out in Japan in 2004 sporting an almost all-female cast and telling a story of love and betrayal and summoning a mechanical dog to shoot ice shard bullets. Around the time it ended, there was news that a sequel was starting up, and that it would star a new main character instead of the titular Mai, pictured on the left. Instead, the protagonist would be the girl on the right, Arika, and to emphasize this point the last scene of the last episode of My-HiME shows Arika, like a hint of things to come. What people did not expect, however, was that the “sequel” to My-HiME was anything but a direct continuation of the story. Released as My-Otome (also sometimes spelled My-ZHiME), Arika’s story took place on what seemed to be alternate Earth completely different from My-HiME. Arika’s world had a sort of techno-medieval vibe, and in the story male characters were de-emphasized to an even greater extent compared to the previous series. The most interesting thing though, is that the characters of My-HiME were re-cast as new characters, similar yet different, without any explicit acknowledgement of who they were previously, not unlike actors in a new television series. Here in anime, Tezuka’s Star System manifests itself.

My-HiME’s Kuga Natsuki on the left, My-Otome’s Natsuki Kruger on the right

Anybody who sees the My series is sure to acknowledge that the show is designed to sell to a certain audience and to push figures and posters and all sorts of goodies on the demographic of guys who think anime girls are hot. Fanservice is not a stranger to My-HiME, and the re-using of characters from My-HiME in roles for My-Otome may seem like just an attempt to draw in the same audience who fell for the girls the first time. However, when you think of the characters a little less like actors and a little more like actor-idols, and incorporate the concept of (pop) idol worship, then the My-HiME Star System really shows itself as a modern, 2000s adaptation of Tezuka’s technique.

Incidentally, stars (the literal kind) are a common motif across the My series. It is the source of power for characters in My-HiME, and My-Otome was originally going to be titled “My ☆Maid” (pronounced My Star Maid). Whether this was a conscious reference or not, though, I can’t really say.

The Trickiness of Taste

Discussing artistic taste is always a mine field no matter the subject, and anime and manga are no exception. People can have very different backgrounds, mindsets, and approaches to anime and manga, and when there is a rift separating two people on many levels, misunderstandings occur. When you have a common point of interest such as anime, people may feel united by that common interest only to realize (or not realize) that it is very possible for people to enjoy anime differently.

That is not to say that arguments about such topics are meaningless, even on the internet as some might claim. It is an opportunity to listen to another point of view and to learn from it with an open mind. Now, an open mind doesn’t mean that you accept everything and let your opinion be bent by every little comment by a strong-voiced individual, but what it does mean is that you engage the other person’s opinion and if they’re wrong you show why you feel they’re wrong without having it descend into a shouting match.

I think one of the main reasons internet arguments are so prone to going nowhere is that they are not based on debate, but rather pride. “I am right, you are wrong.” This happens so much that it ended up creating a countermeasure, “We’re all right, so let’s stop arguing.” One is a statement which bolsters pride, the other is a statement that preserves pride. Neither is correct, but neither is wrong, and what I feel to be the real key to enjoying art, enjoying anime and manga, is to never stand at the absolutes. You can stand very close to them, but once you arrive at an absolute, no matter how right it feels, you’ve now cut yourself off from growth and change.

I hope that more and more people will desire internet debate about their hobbies not to assert their sense of righteousness but to learn and to inform. If you liked this post, I would also recommend reading my post on the Geek Logical Fallacy, which warns of the dangers of applying a “logical” mind to everything in life.

What Could Afro Samurai’s Emmy Nomination Mean For GONZO?

In case you haven’t heard, the GONZO-produced, Samuel L. Jackson-backed made-for-tv animated movie, Afro Samurai: Resurrection, has been nominated for an Emmy in the category of “Outstanding Animated Program (for programming one hour or more.” Granted, there isn’t a lot of competition in the first place (the Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends movie is the only other show nominated) so Afro Samurai may have simply gotten in by default, but that doesn’t make the MARKETING potential Afro Samurai and by extension GONZO may have now any less significant. After all, the legendary 100% viewership of Goldorak (Grendizer) in France had much to do with how boring the rest of TV was at that time. Even if it doesn’t win, it can still plaster EMMY-NOMINATED on the cover and GONZO will forever have something of official merit.

GONZO, as you might know, is in dire straits at the moment, having cut its staff by about 70% and being removed from the commander’s chair for the mahjong anime Saki. I don’t think GONZO is quite dead though, and I believe that if they utilize this sort of thing correctly they can gain sponsorship from companies they didn’t have previously, companies you might not even expect to sponsor anime.

If I had it my way, I’d have GONZO produce an animated soap opera for the daytime Emmys. Who the hell is going to compete with that?