TSUZUKU

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I don’t know if it’s just from the media I’ve watched, but over the past four years or so I feel like there’s been this steady increase in a certain kind of nostalgic sequel/remake. These are different from your A-Teams and your Transformers movies and such, where the works are designed to tap into fond childhood memories and bring them screaming into the modern age; they’re more about addressing the previous work more directly, whether as a sequel or as a remake or in some hybrid form.

The first example that pops into my mind is Rocky Balboa, the sixth movie in the classic series about an underdog boxer, while more recently Toy Story 3 gives off a similar vibe. Anime is no exception, either. The Rebuild of Evangelion movies, while acting as a story reboot, also feel like direct responses to what came before them.

In all of these cases, it is as if there was some unfinished business left by the previous work which the original creators felt needed addressing, something simply beyond “the last thing made some mistakes.” For Rocky Balboa, it was a combination of Rocky V being a terrible way to end the saga of the Italian Stallion and Stallone himself realizing how old he was getting. With Toy Story 3, it seems like Pixar realized just how many years it’s been since the original Toy Story came out and wanted to bring it back one more time and use it to address both the people who grew up on those movies and Pixar itself and talk about growth and change and passing things on to a new generation. And the new Evangelion movies take the raw material of the original series, puts it through the lens of a decade and a half of anime post-Evangelion, and uses it to try to more deeply explore  the relationships between the characters, to talk about all of the new concerns that have cropped up in Japanese society since then.

Again, I don’t know if it’s just that I’m at the age to really notice this sort of thing, or if it’s that this generation of adults is especially keen on discussing the topic of change and resolution, but I can’t help but feel that it could be a defining feature of this time period in creative entertainment.

How to Make a Better Anime Jeopardy!

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“Anime Jeopardy!” is a fairly popular panel to hold at anime conventions, but many times they run into the same problems outside of the general problem of anime knowledge being an incredibly broad subject. First is that they tend to focus too much on specific shows, the second is that the questions tend to be about in-universe topics.

Just think about it: on actual “Jeopardy!” would you ever see a question about fiction like, “These are the number of windows in Dracula’s castle,” or “This man shook hands with a beggar in chapter 10 of such-and-such?” No, the questions do not reward simply having seen some shows more than others, but are more about accruing knowledge about the topics at hand and giving a few context clues.

So what would be the way to improve an “Anime Jeopardy!” panel? First, don’t assume too much about what are considered “easy” questions or “hard” ones. Second, make sure to give a fair amount of context clues as they would on actual “Jeopardy!” Third, there shouldn’t be too great a reward for people who have watched a particular show to death; that skews the results and makes it more difficult for more people to enjoy.

I’ve never run an Anime Jeopardy! panel myself so it may sound like I’m backseat panel-moderatin’, but I really think that if you follow these tips, your anime trivia panel will benefit from it, whether it’s in an existing game show format or not.

You wa Culture Shock: Peepo Choo Volume 1

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Felipe Smith is an American artist who found his way to Japan and became serialized in an actual manga magazine. His resulting comic, Peepo Choo, is a fusion of the two cultures, feeling like both and neither at the same time, but unlike many others actually manages to succeed in creating something unique.

Peepo Choo follows a young otaku, Milton, living in the south side of Chicago. Forced to hide his anime fandom to survive the harsh urban environment, Milton finds reprieve in anime, particularly his favorite title, Peepo Choo and sees Japan as an ideal paradise from which he can escape his life in Chicago. When he wins a ticket to Japan, he sees it as an opportunity to really be himself, but learns that his dreams and reality don’t quite line up.

The first volume of Peepo Choo can create an odd initial impression. The art is very in-your-face. The heavy amount of sexual content and violence can seem out of place even knowing that there are plenty of sexual and violent manga out there, and the way in which it makes fun of geeks can be a turn-off for the geeks reading it. However, there are reasons for all of this, and it’s not simply to offend everyone.

Peepo Choo appears to glamorize sex and violence, but does so in a way that also simultaneously removes much of the fetishism in both. The “Peepo Choo” meta-series itself that Milton so adores resembles superflat artwork crossbred with Pokemon, looking not like anime so much as the impression someone completely unfamiliar with it might get from watching an episode. And while Milton comes across as pathetic, he’s also a very good and righteous person in his own way.

Most, if not all of the characters in Peepo Choo are horribly flawed in different ways. Paralleling Milton is a yakuza member who has so fallen in love with the “American gangsta” aesthetic that he has adopted a wardrobe (cowboy hat included), attitude, and name (“Morimoto Rockstar”) that is a garish parody of the lifestyle, essentially trying to obtain the life that Milton is trying to escape. Supermodel Reiko has an as-of-yet unexplained violent streak to her. Comic book store owner Jody lords it over his customers by telling them how pathetic they are, but is only covering up his own insecurities. Everyone wants to be more than they are, or at the very least feel like there are two conflicting sides to them.

Yet, despite all of these human faults, all of the characters show some degree of goodness and altruism through their otherwise broken personalities. And so while the message one might initially take from Peepo Choo is “hopelessness,” there is also a glimmer of progress and growth in all of them, or at least the potential for such. In a way, it reminds me of Ressentiment, which also has a similar theme of the beauty in ugliness.

Is Peepo Choo going to be uplifting, or is it going to be a heel to the face of fans? Honestly, as of Volume 1 I cannot tell. The story can easily go in either direction, and while I hope for the former I can’t make any guarantees.

Pick up Peepo Choo Volume 1 if you feel like something different. It’s not like any manga you’ve ever seen, and it also goes to show that perhaps the way to achieving that manga dream is to do something unique.

Thanks to Vertical Inc.’s Ed Chavez for providing this copy.

The Feminine Touch to the Manly Spirit

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Whenever I listen to the full version of the opening to Brave of the Sun Fighbird, a particular lyric gets my attention. Not present in the TV version, the line says, “Kanashimi o kudake, taiyou no tsubasa,” or “Crush sadness, oh wings of the sun.” The way the singer Yasuko Kamoshita emphasizes each syllable of “kanashimi o kudake” sends a jolt of excitement through me.

I think the reason why I notice it so much is because it’s a super robot theme sung by a woman. However, it’s not just because it’s a female vocalist, but because I feel like given the exact same song with the exact same fiery lyrics, male singers and female singers for super robot anime produce different results. Music’s not my strong suit, but if I had to describe the difference, it’s that the male singers tend to sound more passionate while the female singers tend to sound more heartfelt. When Kamoshita tells Fighbird to “crush sadness,” you can hear a twinge of sadness in her voice too.

You might be thinking, “But wait a second, it might just be because this is a 90s anime and at that point anime songs were changing!” And you’d be right on both points, but I think that this feeling extends back towards previous decades as well. Let’s not forget that female singers for super robot anime have been around for quite a while. I get the same impression from Horie Mitsuko’s work on Super Electromagnetic Machine Voltes V and Space Demon Daikengo, as well as MIO/MIQ’s Aura Battler Dunbine and Heavy Metal L-Gaim openings, though those two  are real robot shows so that genre shift factors in as well.

“Men and women sound different!” seems like such an obvious thing, but it really makes me aware of how the same song or piece of art can take on varying emotions once you change certain pieces.

For a fun comparison, let’s look at various openings throughout the decades featuring duets between Horie Mitsuko and anime song legend Mizuki Ichirou.

Chunno Azusa: A Chinese-Japanese Mahjong Tile Comparison

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

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The Manga Moveable Feast makes a cultural shift this month, transforming into the Manhwa Moveable Feast  in order to focus on the Color trilogy, a series by Kim Dong Hwa about a young girl in Korea on the cusp of womanhood and her subsequent growth.

Having only ever read the first of the three books, I decided not to participate this time around. Still, I know that this title is different from the general marketed image of “manhwa” in the United States, where it comes across as just a more illustrative variation of Japanese manga.

Manhwa simply doesn’t have the same level of exposure that manga does; even I have to admit I know little about it as a whole. Thus, my hope is that the Color series and this inter-blog discussion inspire people, including myself, to try and learn more about it.

You can start at the introductory post here, and then make your way through the archive of participatory posts. Of course, watch out for spoilers as some of these posts will contain some thorough analyses of the series.

Doodle Doodle Dee

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Thoughts on Learning and Teaching Mahjong

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Ever since I’d been approved for the mahjong panel at Otakon, I’ve been both consciously and unconsciously thinking about the game in terms of how beginners approach it. Here are some accumulated thoughts from this slight change in mindset.

As Sub and I work on our panel, we have to be aware that many people don’t have the first clue about mahjong, and that in order to get to the meaty psychologically thrilling parts of the game, we have to show what the game is actually like without going overboard. I trust the both of us to come up with something great, though. Sub especially is a natural at pleasing the crowd.

Sub and I also played some games both online and real life this past week with various levels of beginners, from people absolutely new to the game to people who’ve been playing for a bit but are still grappling with some of the fundamentals.

While neither of us are particularly good at mahjong, we too have made many of the same mistakes, and so we are more keenly aware of them. Generally these errors are the product of over-eagerness and desperation combined with not fully knowing the rules.

In mahjong, when someone discards a tile, there are situations where you can steal the tile and use it as your own, but in doing so confine yourself to fewer options and leave yourself more vulnerable to the attacks of others. One of the most prolific manifestations of this desperation is the over-reliance on stealing others’ tiles in order to move towards victory. Japanese mahjong values defense, and so every time you go on the offense you leave yourself more and more open.  The newbie tendency is to just keep stealing tiles whenever you have the chance. Eventually, your options become so limited that you’re left near-impotent with possibly not even the strongest of luck being able to save you.

Naturally, Sub decided to exploit this and gain a commanding lead over an entire game. I came in second, unable to get a win in, but also able to avoid the traps Sub had set for the other players. In a later game, I did pretty much the same thing he did. It’s a good reminder of where we were and where we can go.

We also realized that the game is not quite as difficult to learn as we originally thought it to be. Yes, when you factor in all of the various small rules and exceptions and knick-knacks, the game can become ridiculously complex, especially because mahjong resembles so few other games. However, the very basics are fairly easy to learn and one or two games and a bit of observation is all it takes to get going.

Of course, there won’t be time for that at the panel as it is not a workshop, but our goal is more to convey a sense of mahjong and the excitement therein in order to bolster your enjoyment of mahjong anime and manga. In that sense, I truly believe we will succeed, and that every game of mahjong we play, not only with those less experienced but also those far superior to us, will be useful lessons towards this goal.

The Fujoshi Files 16: Shirai Sae

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Name: Shirai, Sae (白井紗江)
Alias: Shiro-chan
Relationship Status: Single
Origin: Kodomo no Jikan

Information:
Shirai Sae is a teacher at Futatsubashi Elementary School, where she is known for her strict, authoritarian teaching style stemming from a severe dislike of children. Her cynicism is often at odds with male teacher Aoki Daisuke.

Optimistic in her youth, Shirai is left embittered by years of criticism from her mother and her peers, both as a child and as an adult. Though seemingly a lost cause, her time spent with female student Kagami Kuro slowly causes her to open up a little more as the two learn from each other.

Owing to her lack of social intraction, Shirai is still a virgin, having never dated anyone despite being in her late 20s. Having somewhat of a complex about the whole matter, Shirai tries her best to not reveal it, though at this point it is more of an open secret.

Fujoshi Level:
Shirai Sae is not a fan of anime or manga, but perhaps due to her lack of experience with men her mind does wander into the territory of fujoshi. Despite not getting along with Aoki, she has allowed herself to picture him with another man, though was quick to force the fantasy out of her imagination.

Stickers Can Go to Hell

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I am very grateful to live in New York City, as there is a sizable Japanese (as well as every other ethnicity) population here, and it means I can eat all sorts of good foods both inexpensive and pricey. One of my favorite quick snacks is onigiri, the seaweed-covered rice ball you often see in anime, and the thing that was translated as “donuts” and then “popcorn balls” in Pokemon.

When the seaweed touches the rice, it eventually gets soggy, so manufacturers some years back devised a way to keep the seaweed separate from the rice until you open it. By having a series of pullable tabs, you can enjoy crispy seaweed with little hassle.

Image taken from empty streets

Or at least, you should be able to, except places all over New York City decide to place a sticker right where you’re supposed to pull the first tab, and it gets in the way and defeats the purpose of the specialized wrapper in the first place. Instead, you have to now struggle with the sticker, and what was once a pain-free activity has now become an exercise in tearing the whole thing apart and making a bit of a mess.

Why do you do this, Japanese convenience stores and shops? Why is that sticker always in the worst place possible?