NOW ONLY PLAYING IN MY HEAD

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Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time doing nothing (by necessity), and whenever I have about half an hour’s worth of time to take up, I think about how that’s roughly the span of a TV show. And so I engage in the same failed exercise: I try to form an original anime episode in my head and pretend I’m watching it from start to finish. I’ll play a poorly thought-out song in my head, maybe have characters talking about something with some kind of goal in mind, and then try to progress from there. Eventually I get tired and have to take a break.

Then I look at my watch and realize that it’s only been five minutes. This is why I call it a failed exercise.

This reminds me of how when I didn’t have a music player while exercising, I used to sing anime openings in my head as I used the treadmill. The opening to Getter Robo was a favorite, and the best part was that if I lost track of a song it didn’t really matter, and in fact starting over could be seen as a good thing as it acted as further distraction.

ABeshi!

An Ally of Justice, a Subordinate of Evil, a Symbol of the Past and the Future: 2004’s Tetsujin 28

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Yokoyama Mitsuteru’s Tetsujin 28 is one of the landmarks of anime and manga, a classic among classics and a significant influence on the history of comics and animation in Japan. It is widely considered the “father” of the giant robot genre, being the first notable manga to feature a towering humanoid behemoth of steel and jet engines in a heroic role. It rivaled Tezuka’s Tetsuwan Atom in popularity, bringing with it a more base thrill than Tezuka’s stories. One thing Tetsujin 28 did not do, however, was really look at its own contents and try to incorporate them into a greater story, which is where the 2004 anime adaptation of Tetsujin 28 comes in.

Tetsujin 28 2004 was directed by Imagawa Yasuhiro, who is known for his work on shows such as G Gundam and Giant Robo the Animation: The Day the Earth Stood Still. The latter is of particular significance, as Giant Robo is adapted from a manga/live-action show by Tetsujin 28‘s creator Yokoyama, and acts not only as a story of gaining maturity and forging destiny, but also as a tribute to Yokoyama’s works in general. So Imagawa, being no stranger to the works of Yokoyama, approaches this adaptation by putting a subtle, yet profound spin on the story of Tetsujin 28, using in the 21st century what was not available to Yokoyama back when he was creating the original manga: hindsight.

Tetsujin 28 is the titular giant robot of the series, and in the story’s premise it is a product of World War II, a super weapon designed to fight the Allies that finds a new purpose in post-war Japan. Its “master” is 10-year old boy detective Kaneda Shoutarou, the son of Tetsujin’s original creator. With his trusty remote control, Shoutarou uses the iron golem not to wage war, but to protect peace and stop crime. With these essential ideas, that of a weapon of destruction finding a new identity as a guardian of good, and the young boy at its controls, Imagawa transforms Tetsujin 28 into a story about the relationship between the people of post-war Japan and the demons of their past, tying the characters and stories from Tetsujin 28 into actual historical events and paralleling the development of Shoutarou and Tetsujin with the development of Japan.

Though Tetsujin 28 is most certainly a giant robot series, it is not as much of one as you might think. Many times the episodes feel more like detective fiction, and in a great number of instances the antagonists don’t even utilize giant robots. Instead, the recurring theme among the villains in Tetsujin 28 is that they are all relics of World War II and the weapons developments that were going on at the time, ranging from artificial intelligence to hideous disease to genetic manipulation and a host of other mad sciences. Shoutarou must constantly confront the past and the horrors that came from the very same war in which Tetsujin itself was created. That’s not to say that giant robots are out of the question, of course. The series takes Tetsujin’s greatest rival, the Black Ox, and increases its role in the story. This is actually a hallmark of director Imagawa, his interest in fleshing out villains, and he ends up giving a somewhat similar treatment to Ox as he did Baron Ashura in Shin Mazinger.

The strength of the visuals in Tetsujin 28 are perhaps best exemplified by the show’s portrayal of Tetsujin itself. While Tetsujin’s face is completely static, it is still able to convey a sense of mood and emotion by utilizing a technique from the No plays of Japan, where the apparent expressions on No masks change depending on the angle at which they’re seen. Viewed from below or straight on, Tetsujin’s eyes appear large and friendly. From above however, the visor on Tetsujin’s head turns its expression into a vicious glare, a look often enhanced by changing the color of Tetsujin’s eyes from a bright yellow to a menacing red.

The show’s visual direction isn’t all good however. Tetsujin 28 has this odd tendency to use these extremely awkward digital transitions which can really jolt you out of the show. They really do stick out poorly, though it’s my only real complaint in terms of visual direction.

There is a near-constant gravity in the 2004 Tetsujin 28 series, and it can be a lot to take in, especially if you expect the series to be as lighthearted as its source material, and doubly so when you factor in the potential incongruity of the tone of the series and the character designs. Everyone in the show, from Shoutarou to Police Chief Ohtsuka to scoundrel Murasame Kenji are drawn to resemble the original manga’s look, with only slight updates to their designs. The animation looks new, but the characters look very old-fashioned, and Tetsujin 28 thus potentially runs into the same problem that Tezuka’s work does in front of a modern audience. To the show’s credit however, while the character designs are old-fashioned, almost none of them take on the useless slapstick roles that characterized older series. Ohtsuka in particular benefits from this transformation, as his role as police chief is greatly expanded upon and he is shown to have an iron resolve fitting his position. Many other elements from the original series are taken as well, such as the fact that the 10-year old Shoutarou not only drives a car but also carries a loaded gun and isn’t afraid to bust a few heads to reach his goal. Again, it can be a difficult pill to swallow.

Overall though, Tetsujin 28 is a very intelligent show that asks a lot of good questions, and is thoroughly entertaining throughout, though it can get depressing at times given the subject matter. At 26 episodes, it’s a bit of an investment but I think it pays off very well.

Book Off Broadway: Toshiki Okada’s “Enjoy”

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While I am not normally a patron of theatre, my interest was piqued when I heard about Enjoy, a play centered around a manga cafe and the colorful individuals who work at it. Translated by Aya Ogawa and directed by Dan Rothenberg, Enjoy was originally written by Toshiki Okada, a man apparently known for using very “realistic” language in his scripts. After having seen Enjoy, I understand what that really means.

The first big impression I got from the play happened before it even began. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I assumed that the people coming to a play about a manga cafe in Shinjuku would probably be manga fans and otaku eager to see this part of their lives dramatized, so it was a little surprising when I realized that the majority of the audience consisted of roughly middle-aged theatre-goers. It makes sense in hindsight, but I still didn’t expect it. Meanwhile, the stage itself was very close to the front row and probably less than twelve inches away. It was also very bare-bones, being essentially an empty room. That simplicity and proximity would be the first hint at how the play would unfold.

Enjoy is split into four acts, focusing on the various workers at the manga cafe and the ways in which their lives appear to be in stasis. Some of the characters are over 30 and still working part-time. Others are younger employees who seem to define their self-worth relative to those 30+ year olds. The story is told through actors who, while each technically playing different characters, go between talking about themselves in the first person, talking about themselves in the third person, and talking as if they were another character involved in the story, resulting in constant perspective shifts all in the form of expository dialogue. Very much to its credit, however, this is never truly confusing, as it’s less important who on stage is saying what as it is what is being said at all.

The “realism” of the language stems from the fact that every character in the play is incredibly awkward in their own way, and through a combination of acting talent and an effective script are able to really convey that awkwardness in a convincing manner without having it be unintelligible. It strikes a delicate balance that could easily be undone. All of the characters, whether they’re being played by their original actors or being assumed by different actors, are very flawed people whose individual hangups come largely from the active pursuit of uneventful lives. Insecurities abound in areas of work, romance and friendship.

As for the story itself, there isn’t exactly one, at least not in the traditional sense. Enjoy is primarily an exploration of characters, and though you get a clear image of who they are as the play goes on, none of them have any real motivations to move themselves forward. It’s the kind of thing that works ideally as a play and would probably not be so personal as a film in a theater. By having the actors so close to the audience, and having them seem as if they are speaking directly to the audience (without actually acknowledging it), it gives a direct emotional connection that’s hard to replicate without real bodies in a live performance.

Although adapted for English-speaking audiences, Enjoy still sets itself in Japan and uses Japanese names for all of its characters (Kato, Shimizu, etc), even if none of the actors are Asian, as if to say that this story could not be told elsewhere and that the adaptation is mainly in the transformation of the text itself. This makes sense, I think, because the manga cafe for the most part does not exist in the US. However, the play is not so Japanese that it is impenetrable for those unfamiliar with the country or its comics. In fact, Enjoy makes only one reference to any specific manga title, and it comes and goes so quickly that it’s more for flavor than anything else. Moreover, the characters’ idiosyncrasies and doubts about their worth and the way their success in employment (or lack thereof) might define them seems to be especially relevant and universal today.

Truthfully, some of the themes of Enjoy hit a little too close to home, but that’s also the very same reason I consider it a success.

I Don’t Not Not Know About This Not-Ending

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I recently finished the Imagawa-directed 2004 anime adaptation of Tetsujin 28, and knowing that Imagawa played around with a lot of the existing material the source manga by Yokoyama had to offer, I began to wonder just how the original manga ended. I could not find any information on how Tetsujin 28‘s manga ended. So I thought, hey, I’ll start researching on Japanese sites, but then I stopped myself for a second and had to ask, why is it that there is so little information on how Tetsujin 28 ends? Or for that matter, something like Tetsuwan Atom?

I do know that Tezuka tried to end Atom a number of times and was forced to bring his most famous character back every time, and that Tetsujin‘s original manga isn’t exactly the most serious and serial of stories. And it’s one thing if something said, “This story never ended,” or “This story just kind of tapers off,” or even, “This story has a non-ending.” But there isn’t even that little. And I’m not condemning anime fans or anime researchers for ignoring this. It’s just that I find it incredibly odd that, despite Tezuka and Yokoyama being such big deals, somehow this information is not common knowledge, especially in this age where it’s difficult to go down two websites without tripping over ending spoilers.

Anyway, once I’ve found out this information, I’ll be glad to share it.

Ogiue’s Conscious/Subconscious Desire to Change

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If you were to pinpoint an event in Ogiue’s life that began her path of self-acceptance, you would not be incorrect in saying that the catalyst was her arrival in Genshiken. The story makes that much clear. However, what I would like to remind people about, even if no one’s arguing for or against it, is that the signs are clear that Ogiue changed because she had a deeper desire to change. If she were truly resistant to the idea of changing herself, it would not have happened.

While Ogiue’s preference for clothes changed throughout the series, in the very same conversation where Saki convinces her to start wearing better clothes you learn that Ogiue had already undergone a small makeover in the transition from high school to college. Her signature paintbrush hairstyle was something new, and she switched out her eyeglasses for contacts. The message is, “I don’t want to be the person I was,” though it’s marred by the fact that she isn’t sure at first what person she wants to be. Does she want to be more of an otaku or less?

This also comes out in her apparent interactions with the school’s Manga Society, where she antagonized the girls in the club. It’s clear looking back that all she really wanted was friends, but she projected her own shame onto them. Still, as poor a reaction as she had towards them, this was also a sign of change.

There’s that saying, “help comes to those who help themselves.” In this case, I think it happened on a subconscious level.

K-On and On and On!!

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In college, a teacher gave me some good advice on animation. He was a 3-D animation teacher, and he knew full well how time-consuming it could be, and how rewarding it was to make something really impressive. His advice, however, was a message of artistic prudence. I don’t remember the exact words, but the message was basically, “Don’t get so attached to a bit of strong animation that you reuse it to excess.” I was reminded of his words while watching K-On!! (the second season of K-On!).

In the new opening, there’s a very distinct part where the camera pans around the five girls of Houkago Tea Time, and it’s really some impressive animation, especially because while the background of the clubroom is 2-D, the girls themselves are still animated in 2-D, and overall it looks pretty natural.

So it looks really nice. But then they use the effect again. And then a third time. At that point, I think it’s just excess.

The opening for the first season also had something similar, a shot where all the girls are playing together that gets reused about three times total. However, in my opinion the recycling isn’t as jarring for a number of reasons. First, it doesn’t have that three-dimensional rotation effect going on like the new opening, where that piece is so different from the rest of the opening that you notice it immediately. The shot in K-On!! sticks out like a really nice-looking sore thumb, and it becomes all the more obvious when they use it another two times. Second, the first opening changes the background between usages of the stock animation, and while this can be seen as simply being lazy, the change in scenery makes the reuse more comfortable to the viewer.

If they really, really wanted to use the revolving camera effect that much, I think a good solution would have been to put more camera movement in the scenes right before that animation to ease the transition into it.

Not that Kyoto Animation is reading this blog, of course.

I Actually Woke Up Thinking About This

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Poketousen
Dragonair Destiny Bond
Growth Gardevoir
Extremespeed Exeggutor

Yes, I know they’re all illegal moves.

Turds Smell Like Crap! Again!

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So Anime News Network is previewing the new season of anime, as they always do. Some shows get positive ratings, some get negative, it’s the same old game. However, it’s gotten me thinking about just how often we go back to something even though it’s resulted in agony and torment in the past.

Among the new shows this season is Ikkitousen: Xtreme Xecutor, about Three Kingdoms-era figures reincarnated as fighting high school students where panty shots and exploding shirts are as plentiful as the air we breathe. The series is completely vapid fanservice and an exercise in selling lewd PVC figures. As expected, a number of ANN’s reviewers are rating the show pretty poorly. I don’t find anything wrong with that. What I do find wrong is that Xtreme Xecutor is the fourth season of Ikkitousen. By this point, the content of the series should be surprising to no one. Was it really that necessary to review?

I understand giving something a second chance and being burned twice over. I thought the first live-action Transformers movie could have been good if only a few tweaks were made, so I expected the sequel to be better. Boy was I wrong. I’ve also tried again and again to watch high level Warcraft III matches, thinking that this time I’ll be able to follow it! No such luck. And I’m not the only one who’s fallen into the shounen trap of waiting for a series to get “good again” while still following it regularly. This Ikkitousen thing however seems more like an exercise in futility.

I know it’s important for an operation like ANN to be thorough, and I can appreciate it on that level. Everyone’s putting on their best critic hats and trying to push something of value out. They’re talking about how the animation has changed, to what extent the series can draw in new fans, injecting song and dance and razzmatazz to their reviews, like the challenge is to write anything of value at all.

Actually, now that I think about it, that sounds like a pretty fun writing exercise.

The Otaku Diaries Hint at the Secretive Triumvirate of Hugpillow Enthusiasts

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Now that the Otaku Diaries main events are over, the Reverse Thieves have seen it fit to hit us with all sorts of tidbits, from the number of people who were officers in anime clubs (13) to the number of man-crushes on Daryl Surat (greater than 0) to the number of people who own hugpillows.

Some of the trivia also sounds like it came straight out of anime. And assuming that everyone told the truth as they were expected to, that’s amazing. For example, the person who broke up with his girlfriend after canceling a date to watch Yu Yu Hakusho reminds me of a manga, Fujoshi no Honkai, where a closet fujoshi breaks up with her boyfriend by telling him that she’s “spending time with another man,” when in reality she bought a cake to celebrate the birthday of her favorite character. And when you realize that something like a manga based on the daily lives of otaku is trying to mirror the reality of the fandom, it’s almost like the beast feeding itself.

But really, looking at this trivia hodgepodge, I think it hits me harder than any of the previous Otaku Diaries posts just how similar/dissimilar we all are as fans of anime and manga. We are all united under the banner of Japanese comics and cartoons, but that sturdy felt cloth hanging high above us belies the sheer variety of places we come from. Gone are the days that anime fans all came from a single nerdy source of science fiction fandom or from watching the Pokemon on the TV. And though I use the term “anime fan” to encompass both those who watch anime and those who read manga, there are even people who almost exclusively focus on one or the other. All of it is surprising and yet none of it is.

Neither Generically Exceptional Nor Exceptionally Generic

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See if the following descriptions sound familiar to you:

1) A young boy uses his mysterious abilities to fight against the forces of darkness alongside his close friends. Though he’s short on brains, he’s long on potential, and as the series progresses you see him gaining more and more power at incredible rates.

2) When a young girl meets an adorable magical creature, she is transformed into a beautiful and striking figure. Together with her friends, she fights the forces of darkness while still finding time to have fun with her friends and care for her parents’ shop.

Most likely, the two images that popped into your head were the most generic shounen fighting anime and generic mahou shoujo anime ever , respectively. However, the two shows I was actually describing are Kekkaishi and Heartcatch Precure.

Kekkaishi and Heartcatch Precure are both series that are firmly rooted in all the tropes one expects out of them. Kekkaishi involves fighting progressively more powerful opponents as our heroes improve their abilities to keep up. The male main character has a lot of “power” while the female protagonist has “finesse.” In Heartcatch, there’s bright pastels and an entire flower motif and transformation sequences. Both series involve Monsters of the Week. But while they are definitely “generic” in a sense, I really believe both to be pretty exceptional, and it mainly has to do with the way both series approach characterization.

In both cases, the strength of the characterization stems from the interaction between the central characters. For Kekkaishi, it’s the subdued and yet progressive romance of Yoshimori and Tokine. For Heartcatch, it’s the budding friendship between Tsubomi and Erika.  And when you look at both, you see just how well one character complements the other, the way their similarities and differences provide sparks of clever interaction. It’s what sets them apart from other series in their respective genres; the characters feel significantly more fleshed out and three-dimensional than the usual fare, and in a way that I think people who don’t religiously follow shounen fighting or mahou shoujo can appreciate.

At the same time however, I think that for people who don’t really look for that sort of thing, both series can still come across as incredibly generic. And for people who outright despise the genres of shounen fighting and mahou shoujo, no amount of smart writing in these shows can make up for the fact that what aggravates them about shows like these are still present in full force. That is, unless the thing that aggravates them is a lack of good characterization.