“Broad Appeal?”

Whenever I see an article or post about how anime is declining because of a focus on an increasingly niche, otaku audience, I’m a little taken aback. This is not only because the most commonly given solution, i.e. “make things with broader appeal” is easier said than done, but that the very idea itself doesn’t actually seem to be what its most adamant proponents truly mean or want.

Take Redline for instance, which is touted by a number of people as a sort of magic bullet that has the potential to blast away years of anime-related stigma. Certainly it’s a fantastic film on a number of different levels, but I have a hard time believing that it qualifies as “broadly appealing,” unless your definition of “broadly appealing” is limited to geeks with a penchant for thrills and visual spectacle, or alternately, anime fans from previous decades, especially from when “anime” was closely tied to “science fiction” in their eyes. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be the first to argue that the storytelling in Redline is excellent, and that it’s far more than just pretty explosions, but something like Redline will be not judged by a more general audience unfamiliar with anime based on the subtle nuance that exists in its otherwise extreme characters. It’s full of violence and has a sprinkling of nudity, and while that sells for some, it’s also an instant turn-off for others.

“Anime with broader appeal.”

“Anime that the average person will enjoy.”

I believe these to be obtainable goals, but I find that when people talk like this, they don’t necessarily want something for a wider audience, they want anime that is closer to what they enjoy most, that possess the qualities they think are most essential to great anime, or at least acceptable anime. Certainly, wanting more of what you enjoy only makes sense, but it results in conflating “broad appeal” with the tastes of the individual. Rather than something like Redline or Cowboy Bebop, maybe the answer will be the anime equivalent of The Big Bang Theory or Hannah Montana or something else far-removed from the aforementioned anime titles. Which is to say, if anime in whole or in part transformed itself to really aim for that bigger audience around the world, the result may not be what we might be expecting.

This somewhat reminds me of all of the manga creators that have been revisiting their older work. Even putting my beloved Genshiken aside, you have GTO: Shonan 14 Days and Rurouni Kenshin, among others. All of them have certain expectations associated with them because you have the original creators working on them, but when you think about it there’s no guarantee that the work will actually be all that similar. After all, artists can change given time and experience. Macross: The First is a retelling of the first series by the original character designer Mikimoto Haruhiko, who is praised especially by a certain generation of anime fans as being one of the best character designers ever. They might point to his work and say, “There, why can’t anime characters look more like that, instead of what we’re getting today?”

The only problem is, Mikimoto’s own artwork today doesn’t look like his work from the 1980s. For that matter, if you look at his stuff from between the original Macross and now, it also looks quite different.

Expectations shattered?

Age in Gundam AGE

Two Gundam AGE posts in a row! Why not?

I’ve been thinking for a while now about how Gundam AGE shows that it’s an anime made with younger viewers in mind. There are the more youthful-looking characters, and the choice of colors used in the show, and the toy line which tries to diversify well beyond just “model kits,” but I realized that it also handles the younger characters in a particular manner that appeals to kids a lot more than adults.

Essentially, in the world of Gundam AGE, adult treat the opinions and ideas of children as seriously as they do the words of adults. Whenever Flit or Emily or anyone else has something to say, they’re willing to listen and not patronize them, as if the kids may know something that they don’t or may have simply forgotten in the process of becoming adults. It’s a feeling that I think most people can remember from when they were kids, that maybe the adults in our lives overlooked something that we knew to be absolutely right. Kids don’t want the adults around them telling them that they’ll “understand when they’re older” or that they need to wait a few years before they can say anything of value.

Heck, teenagers don’t want them from adults, and people in their 20s don’t want that from the people older than them either. It’s probably more relatable than I first realized.

So what’s really interesting about this, then, is the fact that Gundam AGE has that generational theme, that we’ll eventually be seeing the first arc’s children turn into adults, and then see how they handle their offspring and the new ideas they offer. I can’t say for sure, but it’s almost like the show was built for this.

The Thrill of Average Characters in Gundam AGE

Ever since the original Gundam and its relatively stark look at war, the idea of the “average soldier” has been a prominent part of the franchise. Here, the lowly soldier with a photo of his loved ones back home getting stabbed through the cockpit as he screams his girlfriend’s name is a recurring image, but in reality such figures are rarely given a spotlight. Even the “everyday grunts” that comprise the titular “08th MS Team” often seem above-average. In Gundam AGE though, two characters in particular have made “averageness” a joy to watch.

The first is Largan Drace, the man who was originally meant to pilot the Gundam, but who ends up in a regular ol’ robot when Flit takes the Gundam as his own. With actual military training but no notable reputation, Largan is pretty much “just another soldier,” but the fact that he is aware of his skill level while being both humble/confident about it actually causes him to shine through at a fair level which says “I’m a side character, but I’m also important in my own way.” He’s even the person who, upon injury, suggests Flit take the Gundam in his stead in the first place. While Largan has no special abilities to speak of, nor any exceptional talents, his behavior and integrity make him an excellent representative of the average soldier.

The second is Adams Tinel, who sits in the bridge of the Diva as Navigation Officer. Loyal to the Federation and thus torn by the fact that the Diva’s captain, Grodek Ainoa, is very much a rogue and a man willing to use almost any means to achieve his goals, Adams has shown his character in contrast to Grodek on a few occasions now. From this, we know that if given a path of light or a path of darkness, he will always choose the former, such as when he informs the Federation of the Diva’s situation in fighting the enemy despite fact that Grodek is a man wanted for treason. However, his goal in doing so is not to tattle, or to show his loyalty, but because he honestly believed that trying to get the Federation’s support was the best course of action. Adams plays by the book and does so without being a wet blanket, and in a series full of characters so fully intent on achieving their goals, his sense of restraint is notable and admirable.

A common complaint with many anime characters is that they are too average and therefore too boring. Largan and Adams show however that playing by the rules and doing okay does not disqualify a character from being interesting. Instead, they show that there is a big difference between average and bland, and when it comes to both main and side characters, the approaches taken for them are valuable lessons.

Fusion, Hato: Genshiken II, Chapter 71

Chapter 71 is here, and if you’re wondering about the Hato figure that came with the latest issue of Afternoon, yes I do have it, though the Volume 11 one has yet to arrive.

When last we saw the club, everyone was getting ready for the campus festival, with the pièce de résistance being a special edition of the club newsletter Mebaetame featuring original stories by the members of Genshiken. As this chapter makes us aware from the very start however, things are not going as planned, as Ogiue is in a slump, Yoshitake and Yajima are finding teamwork to not be so simple, and Hato’s drawing style seems to change drastically depending on whether or not he’s crossdressing. As the club tries to figure out not only how they can get anything done in time for the festival but also why Hato would have such an unusual psychological block, Sue suggests that Ogiue and Hato should collaborate, with Ogiue providing the story and Hato the artwork.

This solution, still not agreed upon by the parties involved, seems to create new challenges as well. On top of the difficulties they were having already, Yoshitake and Yajima (with beers) now feel intimidated by the fact that a collaborative work between Ogiue and Hato would completely outclass them, and this frustrations even results in Yoshitake admitting that she finds Yajima’s drawings to be pretty bad where she would previously have sugarcoated it. Ogiue meanwhile is moving towards writing a shoujo-esque romance for Hato to draw, but is aware of the fact that shoujo is untested territory for herself.

Hato too is wondering about whether or not having Ogiue’s script as a guide would provide enough structure for him to not go offtrack while drawing, when he comes across the fact that Madarame bought the game being sold by Kohsaka’s company at Comic Festival. Touting a girl-boy as a significant feature, Hato begins to think about Kohsaka putting the moves on Madarame with the game as pretext, and finds that his “Stand” is going too far. He also realizes an odd fact about himself: “Stand” Hato seems more hardcore and extreme than Hato when crossdressing. Madarame comes home earlier than expected, which results in Madarame walking around for a while to let Hato finish changing. Once Hato is done, he (in women’s clothing) mentions to Madarame that they haven’t met in a while, and that he wants to apologize for all of the trouble he’s caused recently, like the whole incident with Kuchiki. Madarame, reminding himself that despite appearances Hato is definitely a guy, invites Hato back into his place to chat.

I think Chapter 71, possibly more than any other chapter, makes me aware of how different the new Genshiken (both club and title) is from the old one, at least compared to where it began. This in turn has me thinking about some of the comments I’ve read and heard from both friends and relative strangers about how unapproachable or how unrelatable the characters and stories are for them now. So, my intent is to think through how the sense of unfamiliarity plays out in Genshiken II, particularly because I find the changes to be especially pronounced with this chapter.

The first and least, shall we say, controversial point of difference is the fact that a good portion of the club seems to show a kind of creative energy, even if they might not have the talent to match up with it. While they are all having difficulties making their works, all of these are problems which occur after they’ve begun their creative processes. This is a stark contrast to the old club where the primary issue with putting out any sort of material was that it was difficult to get them moving in the first place. I think the best comparison might be Yajima now to Kugayama back when he drew that first Kujibiki Unbalance doujinshi. Both of them are lacking in confidence and don’t believe they have what it takes to be real manga-ka, but where Kugayama delayed things as much as he could, we’re made aware of the fact that Yajima has continued to include drawings in her entries for the club newsletter even though she thinks her own work isn’t good. The fact that Yajima appears to be less skilled as an artist compared to Kugayama anyway seems to suggest that it’s mostly a subtle matter of mentality separating the two, and by extension the mindset of the current club versus the old one.

The second point of difference is that the mostly female cast produces conversations concerning concepts like body image and, more generally, that the characters talk about their feelings regularly. I think this comes across even when the topic at hand is something otaku-related, like how Yoshitake and Yajima are frustrated trying to work on their story. A few harsh words are spoken, but the whole thing ends up coming across as therapeutic for them in a way; even if nothing is solved (and perhaps they might even have made things worse), it seems to be oddly helpful. Not to blindly promote stereotypes about the types of conversations that occur among men and among women, but it’s hard to see this being a regular thing for the old guard of primarily male characters. Moreover, the interactions between Yajima and the rest are framed by their otaku/fujoshi mindsets, as well as the fact that they come from a different “subcultural” generation compared to Madarame and the rest. Not that there isn’t some overlap between the two groups or differences within, but overall I think it’s that the characters, now mostly female, have a tendency to talk about things that they might not be willing to if the club were dominated by men like it used to be, just as there were once certain topics conveyed as being uncomfortable if Saki or Ohno were around.

Hato is a kind of X-Factor in all of this, his crossdressing ostensibly making him one of the “girls,” but the actual physical truth makes things much trickier, particularly for Yajima, who now has that very same physical truth burned into both the shallow and deep recesses of her mind. Hato is the gateway, albeit a “troublesome” one in that he can seem familiar yet alien at the same time.

That leads to me to the third point of difference: Nidaime continuously challenges ideas of gender and sexuality in ways that the original Genshiken only began to touch on, with Hato being the most prominent example. With Ogiue, the “controversy” was about the degree to which being really hardcore into yaoi might affect actual intimate relationships, but that was still a girl being attracted to men, whether or not they were fictional/into other guys. With Hato however, the fact that he is into yaoi but finds himself attracted to women in real life makes for a trickier dynamic, especially when he starts to fantasize over fictional portrayals of real people like Madarame. While Ogiue did the same thing (and even said to Sasahara that she has no feelings for Madarame himself), Hato’s gender makes it feel like the idea is really being pushed to its limits, and every time they add another layer to it as they did in this chapter, it becomes that much more complex.

Overall, I find that when taking the notion of a sequel as more of the same, more of what you loved, more of what you’re familiar with, Genshiken II doesn’t quite feel like that. However, when taking a sequel to mean a progression from what has occurred before it and a development of ideas began in the original, Genshiken II fulfills that definition much more thoroughly. When I look at it and the work that has come between the two Genshiken (notably Jigopuri), I get the feeling that Kio Shimoku as at a point in his life somewhat removed from the typical otaku, especially male otaku, and that this is the result. Maybe this would have been better to talk about in its own separate post instead of as part of a chapter review, but I do think it was relevant here.

By the way, this post is probably going to push Ogiue Maniax’s lifetime hits to over 1 million. When you think about it, there’s no topic more appropriate for this than Genshiken.

The Fujoshi Files 33: Takayo

Name: Takayo (貴代)
Alias: N/A
Relationship Status: Dating
Origin: Fujoshi no Hinkaku

Information:
Takayo is a 29-year-old office worker (OL) who is so experienced in the ways of the fujoshi that she is able to perfectly juggle her professional and personal lives, even using the latter to enrich the former. In addition to carrying a daily planner for fujoshi-related events (coded so that normal people are unable to understand it) and being adept at saving money (to be used later on BL goods), she has also managed to memorize her company’s entire inventory by associating their products with personality types in yaoi. As a young girl with a limited budget, she would purposely take many days to read a single work of BL to extend its enjoyment.

With a younger fujoshi named Fujoko joining the company, Takayo gains an apprentice to whom she teaches the art of being an adult fujoshi. Takayo ahas a little fujoshi sister named Takako, as well as a boyfriend who is fully aware of her hobbies and interests. She is also a fan of the Shacho franchise and its BL potential.

Fujoshi Level:
An “elite fujoshi,” Takayo was able to master the English language for international traveling by reading Slash fiction on the internet. Using the English-language term specifically, Takayo shows that her fujocity knows no borders.

Best Anime Characters of 2011

BEST MALE CHARACTER

Kaburagi T. Kotetsu, Wild Tiger (Tiger & Bunny)

The world of Tiger & Bunny is filled with heroes, but none are quite like Wild Tiger. With the power to increase his physical abilities hundred-fold (his so-called “Hundred Power”), he fights to protect Sternbild City, but when we see him at the beginning of the series, he’s a C-List star, unable to capture the public’s attention as his peers do. However, it doesn’t matter to him, because he loves being a hero to people and he loves to save lives. While his actions may sometimes create more problems than they solve, it’s clear that his heart is always in the right place. In Kotetsu, you have a man full of pride but without an ego.

What is even more impressive about Kotetsu however is that he handles success just as gracefully as he handles failure. When he and Barnaby start showing the world what they’re made of, it’s clear that he’s still the same person he always was. Rank is of no concern to him. And when his powers start to decline, we see him deal with that in arguably the best way possible as well.

Wild Tiger is not the first hero to have his powers wane, but the prior example we’re given shows how the gradual loss of that superhero identity can be devastating to not only the hero but also their family. Tiger, though he struggles with deciding what to do, simply doesn’t have quite the same problem, as his personality doesn’t allow for it. At first, he opts to retire and just spend more time with his family, but he eventually realizes something important : even if he has only one second’s worth of superhuman ability, that’s still one second more of a difference he can make that a normal person could not. This, above all else, is why Wild Tiger is my pick for 2011.

BEST FEMALE CHARACTER

Tsurugi Minko (Hanasaku Iroha)

An aspiring chef working at the inn “Kissuisou,” Minko (“Minchi” to her friends) is notorious for her creatively blunt word choices, whether it’s telling people to go die, or calling them an unborn chick fetus used in East Asian cuisine. However, her seemingly constant and fierce anger is in reality a product of her never-ending determination.

The first scene that really had me take notice of Minko came early on in Hanasaku Iroha, when she rejects the feelings of a would-be suitor by listing the traits of her ideal man. Describing this “perfect guy” as someone with a sharp tongue and the ability to take initiative who is also very kind and takes his work seriously, the profile turns out to be that of Tohru, one of Kissuisou’s resident chefs. This becomes something of a recurring aspect of her character, as she angrily defends Tohru’s character and honor from what she believes to be unjust criticisms on more than one occasion.

It might seem like I’m defining her character entirely by her feelings for a man, but what is clear about Minko is that she is very serious about becoming a chef. She originally even wanted to skip high school entirely, and along with the fact that Tohru acts as her mentor, it is this dedication to cuisine that allows her to see Tohru’s better traits so thoroughly where others would write him off as brash and uncaring. When a rumor surfaces that Tohru is leaving for a better position elsewhere, Minko refuses to stop him despite her strong feelings, because she recognizes that this would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a chef and knows how hard Tohru works to perfect his craft.

Minko does not want to get into cooking as a profession because she is in love with Tohru; rather, she is in love with Tohru because her dreams (and the ability to follow through on them) put her in a position where she can truly understand him. Even in love, her dedication to her goals shines through.

Final Thoughts

Kotetsu and Minko certainly do not share the same personality, nor very much anything at all. In fact, the Hanasaku Iroha equivalent of Wild Tiger would be the main character Ohana, while the Tiger & Bunny counterpart to Minko might be Barnaby. However, Tiger and Minchi do have one major thing in common, and that is a strong will. In either case, their powerful personalities potentially lead to misunderstandings for those who don’t know them well, but for those that do they wind up being devoted friends and partners who you know have ideals and goals far above the norm.

Creamy Mami, All Right In the End I Guess

A few months ago when I decided to write my mid-series thoughts on the 80s magical girl anime Mahou no Tenshi Creamy Mami, I expressed some dissatisfaction with the show. With a story centered around a young girl who gains the ability to transform into an older version of herself, and who becomes a beloved pop star as a result, the fault I found in Creamy Mami is that did not do enough to convey its main character Yuu as a normal girl. All of her friends around her age were boys somehow romantically linked to her, and she seemingly never had a normal environment such as as school setting which you could contrast with her adventures.

Shortly after I published that post, I went into the second half of Creamy Mami and lo and behold, the anime now featured her attending classes and talking to female classmates. Seeing as it’s highly unlikely that my thoughts somehow traveled back in time and influenced the production of Creamy Mami, I can only imagine that similar criticisms were brought up at the time, and that at the half-way point they decided to do something about it. At the same time, the show was also clearly successful enough to hit that 6-month mark and continue (and I know there are OVAs and such as well).

While they eventually resolved some of the issues with Creamy Mami, I have to say that it’s the kind of show where even though it gets better, it takes so long to do so that I can hardly expect anyone to stick around, even if it concludes well. Overall, it’s mostly a cute fluff kind of show, which can be nice, but you can also get cute fluff and some more substance from other shows.

Actually, if you want to know the best part about Creamy Mami, it’s probably the second ending theme, Love Sarigenaku. It’s catchy, and kind of a far cry from the rest of the songs in the show, in a good way.

Double Dragons vs. Abobo

Check out this exciting fight!

Secret Santa: Planetes, for the Sake of Humanity

For the 2011 edition of the Reverse Thieves Secret Santa, I was given three excellent titles to choose from. Given that I have been hearing good things about Planetes for a very long time though, I felt that it was the right and proper choice to make. After having watched through all 26 episodes, I find the series to be one that is difficult to pin down because of how it handles so many of its elements extremely well, and asks a great deal of its viewers without making it necessarily a “challenging” watch.  It is a show which eases you into its difficult, mentally engaging portions but also doesn’t let up on them either.

Planetes takes place in the early years of space colonization, when mankind is utilizing resources found outside of the Earth and has established cities on the moon and on orbiting satellites. In this era, space travel is naturally common, but decades of collected junk (old satellites, garbage launched into space, etc.) around Earth’s orbit have made it potentially dangerous. Even a seemingly harmless object becomes deadly when controlled by the unrestrained laws of motion. In order to combat this serious issue, mankind has developed the profession of “debris hauler,” a job which is absolutely vital to space travel but is treated with about as much reverence as a janitor. The story of Planetes focuses primarily on these debris haulers, especially the brash-but-serious veteran Hoshino “Hachimaki” Hachirota, and the new recruit filled with lofty ideals for people and space, Tanabe Ai. Together, they work for the Debris Section of their company, derisively referred to as the “Half-Section” for being perpetually understaffed.

Though I cannot comment on the accuracy of the science in Planetes, I can say that it plays a large role in the series, particularly how inertia works in space. It is taken seriously, and though the show feels light-hearted, the seriousness of their respective positions is also made immediately apparent. As space debris is dangerous, so too is the work of a debris hauler, as they have to be prepared for the fact that every time they are out on the job could be their last.

The challenges of space travel are not simply limited to the tasks at hand, either. When it comes to expanding humanity further into the universe, there are very real consequences. Space development is seen as a way to benefit all of mankind, but the truth is that the wealthiest nations, the ones that have the funds to develop space programs, are the ones that profit the most. The gap between nations grows ever wider. Planetes is an anime that questions progress and development, the interaction of politics and science, personal motivations, the nature of human interaction, and even the way we view ourselves individually.

The beauty of the series, however, is that it does not give a clear winner in the conceptual battle of “cynicism” vs. “idealism,” nor does it say which side is which. Planetes does not push one side over another, as if to say that once you weigh all of the advantages and disadvantages of space travel relative to the state of mankind, you can figure out which is right. The answers are as myriad as the the show’s cast of characters, all of whom are fantastically developed and who contribute heavily to the unlikely combination of feel-good comedy, political intrigue, and genuine speculation, balanced in a way that very few works of science fiction are able to accomplish. Even when you disagree with them, you cannot deny their convictions.

Hachimaki decided to go into space because he wanted to go faster and further than ever before. Fee Carmichael, the pilot of the Half-Section debris ship “Toy Box,” is a chain-smoking pragmatist whose skills are the best in the business, but who shirks at the chance to get promoted because she feels her skills are most needed out in the “field” instead of being behind a desk. Werner Locksmith, the developer of the first inhabitable ship to Jupiter, is a brilliant mind whose emphasis on science over humanity can be shocking to those who expect empathy, but his attitude is also necessary for pushing space development technology further. Tanabe herself strongly believes that the key to everything is love, and that actions without love are lesser for it, an attitude which can be grating to those who see reality as a much harsher place. And yet it must be asked, who is truly naive, the one who believes that love connects humanity, or the one who believes that people are forever alone?

Similarly, some problems are seen as trivial when faced by issues of a larger scale, seemingly insurmountable ones which affect entire countries, but those in turn are dwarfed by the vastness of a perspective with the entirety of the universe in mind. Suddenly those “small problems” of the individual start to play a much greater role. In the end, Planetes never leaves you with a definitive answer to any of the questions it posits, leaving you to decide for yourself.

Before I finish, I feel that I must emphasize once again that somehow through all this, Planetes is fun and even a bit romantic. It takes itself seriously, but it also doesn’t neglect the personal joys that can be found in life. There isn’t anything quite like it.

Extent of Fandom

I’ve recently been watching the new season of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic as I also watch the on-going The Idolm@ster anime, and it has me thinking about the upper limits of my own fandom and what effect that might have on how I identify as a fan.

I think My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is quite a good show. It’s funny and charming and it has remarkably good characters. Whenever I see people praising the show or expressing their love for it and its ponies, I know where they’re coming from. I’ve seen it, and I think it’s worthy of praise. I even have a favorite character, Twilight Sparkle. The Idolm@ster I was less immediately fond of, and kept watching primarily to understand this franchise which I had heard about for so long but never knew anything about. In time, I grew to like the show well enough, and like My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, I gained a favorite character within the show. In this case, it’s Akizuki Ritsuko.

However, I’m not sure how much I can call myself a fan of the show. I like it to be sure, and I think it’s excellent, but something about it keeps me from identifying as an MLP fan, and it’s not because the “bronies” are so outspoken. That’s not a problem at all. If there is something “amiss,” it might be that I have experienced greater passion for other shows, and so by comparison, as highly as I think of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, I know my capacity to love a cartoon can be much greater.

This makes me wonder, if I hadn’t come to MLP: FiM or The Idolm@ster as the person I am now, Ogiue Maniax blogger and academic of dorkish things with plenty of experience in geekdom and a propensity for expressing in writing that which I cherish, would I have more readily considered myself a fan of that series and devoted more of my time and energy to it?