Real Robot Sincerity: Pacific Rim Uprising

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I enjoyed the hell out of the first Pacific Rim. Being able to see a big-budget film directly inspired by the giant robot anime I love was all I could ask for. At the time, the film under-performed at the US box office, which made the prospect of a sequel fairly unlikely, but against the odds (OSCAR AWARD-WINNING DIRECTOR) Guillermo Del Toro managed to produce an update in Pacific Rim Uprising.

Taking place ten years after the original film, Pacific Rim Uprising focuses on Jake Pentecost, son of the deceased hero Stacker Pentecost from the first movie. A prodigal son, Jake appears to be a scoundrel in every way his father was a shining example of humanity, but a chance encounter with a mechanically gifted young girl named Amara Namani leads Jake on the path to redemption. Originally kicked out of the military despite his skill for piloting the titanic Jaegers that helped defend humanity from the vicious Kaiju all those years ago, he reluctantly returns to fight and train a new generation of fighters.

I have not seen the first film since I originally watched it in theaters, so my memories of it going into the sequel are faint. That being said, the general impression I got from Uprising is that it’s simply a superior film in most respects, and especially in terms of being a piece of giant-robot fiction. The action is snappier and more stylish, with plenty of robot fighting to satisfy genre fans. The acting is much more fluid and natural, thanks in large part to John Boyega’s performance as Jake Pentecost being amazing compared to the wooden performance of Charlie Hunnam as Part 1’s protagonist Raleigh Becket. The characters are developed just enough to get a sense of their characters and their personal development without slowing down the pace of the film or its emphasis on combat (see Girls und Panzer der Film for a similar example). In a way, the film feels a little more “cartoonish,” like it’s really trying to bring more Mazinger Z into its world, but the sincerity of the performances also makes it feel more serious as well.

A lot of the film takes place on a Chinese military base, and both mainland Chinese and Taiwanese characters have a much greater presence in Pacific Rim Uprising compared to its predecessor. I believe this has to do with the great success China had in bolstering the first film’s box office success. The US might not have been so keen on super robots, but it looks like Asia took to them like young boys to combination sequences.

Pacific Rim Uprising is worth watching for any mecha fan, and it doesn’t even require seeing the first film to really get it. As excellent as I think the film is, however, I feel a bit hesitant recommending it to skeptics. What makes the film work is how it embraces the tropes and the feel of giant robot shows and movies, because sincere fondness for that type of storytelling is what holds the film up and provides the structure by which viewers can delve deep into the fast-paced and emotional world it presents. On the flip-side, an open mind can do wonders, and Pacific Rim: Uprising will likely be rewarding to those willing to extend their hand first.

Girls Going Somewhere: A Place Further Than the Universe

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2018 isn’t even half over, but I think A Place Further Than the Universe might just be the best anime of the year.

The series centers on Japanese high school girl Kobuchizawa Shirase and her quest to travel to Antarctica to fulfill a life-long wish. Mocked at school for her absurd dream, she’s more than willing to say, “screw the haters,” but a few other girls are drawn to Shirase’s ambitious spirit, and join her to see if they can accomplish the seemingly impossible.

One of the more enduring anime and manga recipes is “girls doing X.” Girls in a band. Girls going camping. Girls in art school. Girls driving tanks for sport in an alternate-history Earth. The activities can be mundane or out-of-this-world, but the combination of cute female characters and some kind of fun or quirky activity is a reliable formula. Where the genre (if you can call it that) begins to differ is the degree to which there is any forward momentum. Those that are more slice-of-life tend to revel in a kind of cathartic stasis of the everyday, such as Aria. In contrast, many sports or competition series, such as Sound! Euphonium make forward progression toward a goal. A Place Further Than the Universe takes the best of both worlds, while grounding itself in a refreshingly realistic depiction of friendship, human interaction, and emotional complexity.

The fact that the goal is Antarctica makes it seem as if the series might just remain about wistfully hoping that they can get there “someday.” But thenm Shirase and the other girls are shown working towards it, step by step, enjoying themselves along the way. As they accomplish each task ahead of them, no matter how big or small, the impossible gradually feels more and more within arm’s reach. Yet A Place Further than the Universe isn’t just about heading towards a goal, and it’s not even just about “the journey being more important than the destination,” as the cliche goes. The genuine sense of friendship and camaraderie that’s built up between them feels like it could sustain an entire series by itself. It’s as if zooming in on an individual episode feels like a small, self-sustaining universe of daily life. But when you zoom out, the full picture comes into focus and it’s just so immensely satisfying.

A Place Further than the Universe charges ahead but also takes time to enjoy the view. A simple and direct story full of complex characters and other moving parts, the detours and the “main quest” are all filled with life. It’s fun, moving, inspiring, and relaxing all at the same time—as complete an experience as one can hope.

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Interested in supporting Ogiue Maniax? Check out my Patreon and Ko-fi!

Sakuga is to Anime as Workrate is to Pro Wrestling

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Listen to anime fans discuss the quality of a given title, and there’s a chance the term “sakuga” will pop up. Used to roughly describe the quality and difficulty of artistically creating the illusion of motion in animation, sakuga has gradually gained prominence among hardcore anime fans around the world, in no small part due to resources like Sakugabooru and just increasingly convenient access to anime. It can also be a contentious subject among anime fans, namely because its idolization can come sometimes across as either excessively niche or obnoxiously elitist. As many elements of art tend to be, sakuga is prone to passionate discussions about a very subjective thing.

I find it useful to frame surrounding fan discourses by comparing them to other areas of art and entertainment. With sakuga, the question of its “true” value is actually quite reminiscent of an ongoing debate in another area of entertainment: pro wrestling. There, the buzzword is “workrate”–defined roughly as “the quality and difficulty of creating the illusion of a wrestling match.” Sound familiar?

While there are many styles and schools of wrestling, the origin of the workrate debate stems from the difference in style between the larger and historically more widely viewed promotions, most notably WWE, and the smaller indie promotions. Because many of the indies are filled younger wrestlers inspired by veterans touted for their often spectacle-heavy styles, indie wrestling has a reputation for being filled with athletes who want to showcase their skill as many difficult-to-execute or dangerous/dangerous-looking actions as possible, e.g. a Shooting Star Press off of a ladder, to entertain a hardcore wrestling audience. In contrast, the more traditional wrestling organizations tend to value storytelling over technical execution, in part due to the desire to avoid or mitigate injuries, but also because simpler moves surrounded by a narrative can be understood by a wider audience.

Whether in anime or in pro wrestling, an attack can have more significance when it carries meaning through context. The anime Digimon Tamers features a scene where a demonic Digimon named Beelzemon performs a move called “Fist of the Beast King.” On its own, it just looks like a cool but generic technique. However, it’s also a move used by a Digimon named Leomon Beelzemon had previously cruelly slain, and Beelzemon’s own usage of it is a product of his remorse over the pain he created in Leomon’s partner.

Similarly, when wrestler Kenny Omega performed a Golden Star Powerbomb, a Bloody Sunday, a Styles Clash, and a One-Winged Angel on his opponent to win the G-1 Climax tournament, he’s recalling his history as a wrestler the history of the Bullet Club faction he led at the time. Both it and the Beelzemon scene are examples of visual storytelling. However, when the topic becomes “what’s more important, the technical performance or the story being told,” and one ends up choosing a side, the tension between the two becomes more evident.

The anime Neon Genesis Evangelion is somewhat infamous for using severe animation shortcuts in certain scenes, notably long elevator sequences that involve a single frame of animation left onscreen with some ambient noise. In a way, it almost can’t be called animation, but it’s surprisingly effective for conveying a sense of interpersonal tension or awkwardness among the characters involved. For storytelling purposes it works, but to a sakuga fan, this is simply what they’re not looking for. They take pleasure in the difficulty involved in visual storytelling. They’ll often watch an anime they weren’t invested in, simply because of the quality of the animation.

In wrestling, Hulk Hogan is one of the biggest names in history. For most of his career, he’s utilized a very simple style consisting of basic striking moves and holds, but his ability to capture the audience through those simple gestures is arguably second to none. To workrate fans, however, they’d choose a technical masterpiece with little buildup or context over a Hogan match, because wrestling to them is about seeing what is possible.

There’s a certain purity to wanting to see art or performance for the sake of it, without needing an underlying narrative, and often involves a much deeper dive into a subject—the domain of the dedicated fan. There’s also a sort of “insider” appeal derived from using industry terms like sakuga and workrate. The ability to appreciate these technical and creative aspects of their respective fields is something to be valued. And yet, the fact that this appreciation is ultimately about valuing the human skill involved is precisely what makes prioritizing such things over storytelling a potential issue. The people working meticulously animating and doing the craziest wrestling moves are often doing so at the risk of their health, and finding an ideal balance between the two is better for longevity. That balance is not necessarily the fault of the people involved, as workplace conditions and salary go a long way, but the question of whether it’s better to be a sprinter or marathon runner in life arises nevertheless.

Approaching “Isle of Dogs” as an Asian-American Anime Fan

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Wes Anderson’s Japanese cinema-inspired stop-motion film Isle of Dogs has been the subject of controversy. Accused of racism (or at the very least racial insensitivity) towards Japan and Asian cultures in general, the movie comes at a time when Hollywood has made numerous missteps in their handling of Asian-themed works, such as the casting of non-Asian Scarlett Johansson as Motoko Kusanagi in Ghost in the Shell. As an Asian-American, I initially came out of the film without feeling offended or bothered by its contents and dressing. I still do not believe it to be a nasty film, but as I’ve reflected on my experience with Isle of Dogs by way of my long history as an Asian amd an anime fan, as well as the criticisms others have written, I find that the core issue isn’t so much racism in the “hatred or marginalization of a people” variety. Instead, it’s that the exoticization of Japan in the film can leave Asian viewers feeling we’re being othered, that we’re not the “intended audience.”

As an anime fan for the past two decades, I’ve seen both the anime being produced and my own experience with them change. When I first got into it, anime was something very foreign, very different, very exotic. Compared to the cartoons I was familiar with, it did seem like a new world, made all the better by the fact that I, as an American living in the US, was not its assumed audience. While the anime industry is increasingly aware of the global market (see the whole “Cool Japan” push by the country’s government), some of that “otherness” persists, reflecting the 99% ethnically Japanese population of Japan.

For example, in many anime set outside of Japan, the main character is often still Japanese, or at least half-Japanese—as if to assure the target audience that there is a relatable point. The spacefaring Macross franchise, now decades old, reflects this tendency in its many protagonists’ names—Ichijou Hikaru, Isamu Alva Dyson, Nekki Basara, Kudou Shin, Saotome Alto, and Hayate Immelman. So when the American exchange student Tracy Walker showed up, I saw her in the same light as those Macross characters, even if she isn’t the protagonist. While I don’t agree with the notion that she’s a “white savior” character, but rather an awkward yet well-meaning character with a bit of a self-righteous savior complex, I registered her in my mind as that American audience stand-in character. However, thinking about that moment was when it clicked for me: if she’s supposed to stand in for the American viewer who’s stepping into this film ostensibly about Japan, what does her presentation say to Asian-Americans watching it? One potential interpretation: Asian-Americans are second-class Americans in the theater.

That’s not the message that Isle of Dogs communicated to me, and I think that the lack of Asian actors playing the dogs themselves isn’t too big a deal, but I can definitely see why the film’s presentation can make Asians like myself feel like strangers in our own home. By extension, I can see why non-Asians could be sensitive to what they’re seeing as affronts of cultural appropriation. The film’s decision to leave the Japanese untranslated (outside of a literal interpreter character summarizing what some of the characters say on occasion) didn’t affect me too greatly; I’m fluent in Japanese. But the decision to not subtitle them means that direct engagement with those characters is lost for the assumed audience, and for non-Japanese-fluent Asian viewers, it can potentially create a greater sense of alienation. Again, for me as an anime fan, something like “Megasaki City” isn’t offensive because it doesn’t sound too far off from “Tokyo-3” (the 3’s pronounced “three” like in English) from Neon Genesis Evangelion, but the film is rife with imagery and symbols that might end up feeling less like loving homages and more like snarky plundering if the Asian-American audience already feels like they’re being told to “stand over there.”

I’m not familiar with Wes Anderson films, so I can’t speak to his auteur style. I’m also not an expert on Kurosawa Akira, so I have only a vague sense of how Anderson references him and other Japanese filmmakers. At most I’m very familiar with Miyazaki Hayao. Within this limited personal context, my feeling is that Anderson through Isle of Dogs tries to exoticize not Japan, Japanese culture, or Japanese people, but rather the feeling of wonder and difference that he got from Japanese film and filmmakers. One of his core staff members, Nomura Kunichi, was apparently brought on specifically to help with authenticity and treating Japanese culture with respect.

Because those films are so associated with foreign interpretations and expectations of Japan, however, drawing from those sources so readily while unabashedly acknowledging them through the Japanese setting of Isle of Dogs can make audiences, such as Asian-Americans who have to deal with the challenges of being Asian-American, bristle with suspicion. Bringing up the question of cultural appropriation is important, and I think the film itself has enough teeth (no pun intended) to stand up to the doubts and concerns, but those questions should not be ignored or assumed to “not really matter.”

 

One Step Off: Ogiue Maniax Status Update for April 2018

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It’s time once again to look back on a month of blogging, and to give my gratitude to my supporters on Patreon and from Ko-fi. Thanks to the following!

General:

Johnny Trovato

Ko Ransom

Alex

Diogo Prado

Sue Hopkins fans:

Serxeid

Hato Kenjirou fans:

Elizabeth

Yajima Mirei fans:

Machi-Kurada

I have to apologize this month, as I was supposed to have written and posted my re-read review of Genshiken volume 8 in March. Unfortunately, I came down with a bad cold towards the second half of the month, and rather than try to force it out I decided to delay it to this month. It’s actually mostly finished and requires largely final touches. Because of this, the final re-read for Volume 9 will be delayed to June.

You might have noticed that I avoided posting this past Sunday. As some might surmise, it was to avoid the chaos that is April Fool’s. I didn’t have any sort of chicanery at the ready, so I didn’t want anything I published to seem disingenuous. I do kind of miss making April Fool’s gags, though, so maybe next year.

On another related note, I’m currently trying to figure out if I should switch to a lighter posting schedule, given my real-life work schedule and my relative dissatisfaction with the quality of my writing as of late. I’ve always valued my consistency and my willingness to (more often than not) just let pieces go rather than sit on them forever. However, recently, I’ve felt that many of my blog posts don’t have the amount of spark, inspiration, and insight that I prefer. Fewer posts per week (i.e. one or two instead of two or three) makes sense on the surface, but I’m worried that having so much wiggle room could make me slack off.

The other concern is my Patreon. I want to make sure there’s enough content to keep justifying it, and I have to wonder if one to two weekly posts is actually enough. If you have any thoughts on either of these matters, feel free to leave a comment. I’d love to hear it.

It’s not really doom or gloom; it’s a desire to not stagnate. In any case, here are my favorite posts from March:

 

Kio Shimoku and Genshiken Trivia Courtesy of “Mou, Shimasen Kara”

Following Chapter 1 of Hashikko Ensemble was a special interview with the man Kio himself. There’s a lot to learn from it!

A Look at Precure Popularity

Thoughts and musings on the varying popularity of Precure and its characters throughout the years. Spoilers: Cure Marine is amazing, Heartcatch Precure! is the best. No, really.

Defying Assumptions. Fujoshi-style: Kiss Him, Not Me

My final review of a really good fujoshi-themed manga.

Hashikko Ensemble

Chapter 2 of Kio Shimoku’s new music manga. It’s filled with potential.

Patreon-Sponsored

Aikatsu! and Idol Franchise “Experiences”

Aikatsu! feels rather unique to me, and I try to explore why.

Also, while I didn’t quite consider them my favorite posts for the month, I did review quite a bit from the New York International Children’s Film Festival. Check the NYICFF tag out! I might get around to more of them this month!

Closing

Can Ogiue Maniax make the impact I desire? What shows of the Spring 2018 anime season will get reviewed on the blog? Find out…some time!

Love Live! and the Four Tendencies

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I recently read The Four Tendencies by Gretchen Rubin, a self-help book about how to better understand certain facets of oneself and others. While it’s been helpful in my personal life, I also noticed that it can be an informative way to understand characters and character interactions in fiction. Often, characters are designed relative or in contrast to those around them, and seeing how they respond to each others’ expectations can shed a lot of light on those dynamics. For this blog post, I decided to take a look at how the four tendencies can apply to to the cast of the original Love Live! School Idol Project.

An explanation of the four tendencies can be found on Rubin’s blog:

In a nutshell, it distinguishes how people tend to respond to expectations: outer expectations (a deadline, a “request” from a sweetheart) and inner expectations (write a novel in your free time, keep a New Year’s resolution)…

  • Upholders respond readily to outer and inner expectations (I’m an Upholder, 100%)

  • Questioners question all expectations; they’ll meet an expectation if they think it makes sense–essentially, they make all expectations into inner expectations

  • Obligers meet outer expectations, but struggle to meet expectations they impose on themselves

  • Rebels resist all expectations, outer and inner alike

So let’s take a look at the girls of μ’s!

First-Years

Hanayo is a questioner. At first, she seems like an obliger because she’d been unable to fulfill her childhood wish to become a school idol, but that’s more because she was convinced she couldn’t. Once persuaded, she fully embraces the idea. Same goes for taking over as president of the school idol club. When she does have a strong stance, such as rice being the best food in the universe, Hanayo is stalwart.

Rin is an obliger. Her main reason for becoming a school idol is to help Hanayo; otherwise, she’s relatively undisciplined if left to her own devices. She believed for most of her life that she couldn’t/shouldn’t wear skirts and dresses, but that’s more because she projected the standards of others onto herself. Only when the other μ’s girls give her new expectations to fulfill—that she can wear them and that she is beautiful—does she change her mind.

Maki is a questioner, and not just because her signature catch phrase is “What the heck?! You’re not making sense.” Left alone, Maki is extremely self-motivated and fulfills inner expectations easily—as seen in her goal of studying medicine, and when she writes a song for μ’s prior to joining. However, she won’t do anything she doesn’t think is off-base. Of course, sometimes that logic is “this would benefit Santa Claus”…

Second-Years

Honoka is a rebel. While it might seem unusual for the team leader to be the rebellious type, it’s clear that Honoka’s inner fire only blazes when something truly interests her, especially if others think she can’t do it. Her starting a school idol group is in itself the product of defying outer expectations. At the same time, she completely shirks both inward rigor if left to her own devices unless, again, it’s something she cares about from deep within.

Umi is a textbook upholder through and through. If her unmatched self-discipline and desire to ensure everything goes right wasn’t enough evidence, her love of schedules, regimens, and pie charts guarantee that she can’t be any other tendency. Her fear of having carefully laid plans go awry also points in this direction.

Kotori is an obliger. Considerate and prone to indecision, she’s at her best when supporting Honoka and Umi’s decisions. Even her costume-making seems motivated more by the positive expectations of others. Her alter ego, the legendary Akiba maid Minalinsky, is the result of her trying to work on her confidence—by being in a customer service job where she has to project strength and ease.

Third-Years

Nico is a rebel. She does what she wants, when she wants, unless she decides for herself that something is the right choice. She might seem like a questioner based on how much she researches proper idol etiquette, but it’s clear that she lives and dies even more by her passion. Before μ’s, she was always fully convinced she could be a school idol; it’s just that her drive and desire to actually keep it up was sapped by the resignation of her old partners. When μ’s calls her in to join them, she quickly falls back into her self-proclaimed role of “super idol.”

Eli is an upholder. Whether in μ’s or the student council, she still shows a strong sense of responsibility to both herself and those who need her. Mature and strong-willed, Eli will get everything done that she can, but on her terms. Eli also definitely isn’t a people pleaser, and believes in tough love as only a former Russian ballerina can—as seen when she first confronts the rest of the girls with what it means to truly be able to dance.

Nozomi is an obliger. On the surface, she looks like more like a rebel, but her backstory reveals that she values friendship above all else. Nozomi can be aloof because she’s suppporting Eli, and to a lesser extent the rest of the girls. In fact, Nozomi explains that seeing Eli essentially refuse to show any weakness is what drew her to befriending and helping Eli.

Overall

Doing this exercise made me realize are some of the vital distinctions between characters and how they behave. For example, while RIn might be seen as generally stronger than Hanayo due to her energy and fun-loving personality, you can see how their different responses to both outer and inner expectations shows that they complement each other in important ways. Of course, fiction doesn’t wholly map onto reality, and the four tendencies framework isn’t exactly a rigorous scientific study, so it’s not like these interpretations are set in stone. If you think certain characters better fit different tendencies than I’ve categorized, I’d love to see you responses!

The Fujoshi Files 177: Arai Tamako

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Name: Arai, Tamako (新井珠子)
Alias: Tama-chan (珠ちゃん)
Relationship Status: Single
Origin: Barakamon

Information:
A middle school student and resident of Gotou Island near Kyuushuu, Arai Tamako is an aspiring manga artist who wishes to be published in a shounen magazine. However, unlike the typical manga for a shounen publication, Tamako combines an eccentric art style and bizarrely violent content that one might see in a more avant-garde magazine. She is best friends with Yamamura Miwa, with whom she occasionally bickers but also teams up with to tease the weak, be they younger or older. Tamako also has a younger brother, Aki, who is more level-headed.

Tamako discovered BL by accident at a younger age, and though she claims that side to be a small part of her general interest in manga, she is afraid of the other residents of Gotou Island finding out the truth. On top of that, the arrival of master calligrapher Handa Seishuu to the island has sparked her fujoshi imagination, especially when it comes to the (imaginary) relationship between him and high schooler Kido Hiroshi.

Fujoshi Level:
Though Tamako originally struggled to suppress her fujocity, over time she has increasingly let it slip through. She reaches the point where she is on some level trying to assert her fantasy in reality by suggesting somewhat openly to Seishuu and Hiroshi that something should happen.

Ensemblers Assemble: Hashikko Ensemble Chapter 2

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It’s the second chapter (and the first regular-sized chapter) of Shimoku’s new manga!

Summary

Kimura Jin wants members for his chorus club, and he’s asking the quiet yet unusually deep-voiced Fujiyoshi Akira to join. Akira’s reluctant, but Jin has a proposition: if he can help Akira speak more loudly, Akira will join the club. Akira tentatively agrees.

But while Jin calls it an ensemble “club,” it’s more of an “appreciation society” at the moment—the distinction being that a group only gets club status if it has five or more members and an advisor. Jin’s first choice for advisor, Takano-sensei, refuses because she’s more of a violin specialist than a vocal one.

Jin’s also not the only one trying to get a club off the ground, as a friendly (?) rival in Hachida Shinji, who has dreams of forming a “mountain castle club.” Shinji is skeptical of Akira’s chances of speaking at a normal level, to which Jin replies that Akira’s body will understand.

As the three continue to talk/argue, they run into the Class 5 teacher, Kitano-sensei, who’s lecturing a blond delinquent-looking student named Orihara. Unbeknown to Kitano, Orihara is actually wearing noise-canceling earphones. Jin pulls out of Orihara’s ears to have a listen, prompting Orihara to start swinging at Jin, which then causes Akira to instinctively yell out. His voice is so deep and resonates so much that it astounds everyone. Jin’s first thought: Akira has “singer’s formant,” i.e. the ability to sing both loudly and clearly, which usually only comes with musical training.

Story in Motion

So now we’ve established the initial goal, and it’s the classic “getting enough club members” story—a tried and true trope that I don’t mind one bit.

If things go as typically expected, Orihara is on track to becoming a member. I have to wonder what his for might be, both character-wise and voice-wiser. Hachida Shinji is a potential member as well. Maybe they’ll pull the “combined club” trick, a la Chuunibyou demo Koi ga Shitai with its “eastern magic and napping society.”

Shinji

As an aside, the idea of a club dedicated to studying mountain castles is tremendous, and I hope Shinji gets his wish.

I also think Kitano-sensei will be their advisor, but that might just be wishful thinking. Her brief appearance has already made me a fan. She’s adorable!

Another character I think is going to make a splash is a female classmate named Hakamada. In this chapter, Jin asks her what music she’s listening to, and something about the way she’s framed says to me that she’ll be significant somehow.

Jin is a Character

The way that Akira ends up yelling out plays perfectly into Jin’s notion that he’ll understand what to do “with his body”—as in almost by instinct. But is Jin actually the calculating type? He sure doesn’t seem that way. And yet, he’s also the one who offered Akira exactly what he wants.

Jin might look like a typical anime otaku, but he really is a music otaku through and through. He carries around a device to measure the number of Hertz in people’s voices and appears to have both a technical and intrinsic understanding of singing. What’s more, he hears an anime song and thinks “Ghibli? Disney? Eva?” as opposed to something more hardcore.

Jin’s vocal range really is absurd. It was established in the first chapter, but here he basically shows that he can cover most of the guy parts (as well as some girl parts) and only really needs Jin for the deepest registers.

By the way, Akira is actually a bass, not a baritone! I madea mistake in my description last review. Chalk that up to me having no real music knowledge.

Singer’s Formant

Speaking of being a total newbie when it comes to music, I’m still not entirely sure I understand Singer’s Formant. As far as I can tell, certain sounds don’t carry as well, so singers train to be able to project loudly and clearly over even orchestras in large spaces. Correct me if I’m wrong!

I also found this video, which might help explain things better.

Songs

If you’re wondering what that “anime” song is that Jin is asking about at the beginning, it’s. “Trancing Pulse” by Triad Primus from The iDOLM@STER Cinderella Girls.

Final Thoughts

Actually, a lot of teachers are introduced quickly in this episode and they all seem full of personality. I’m looking forward to seeing which ones become more prominent as the manga progresses.

Until next time!

—

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A Look at Precure Popularity

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I’ve been looking at various Precure polls lately, in part due to a desire to see how a franchise that’s 15 years old is remembered. The polls I consulted were Japanese character rankings from 2015, 2016, and 2017 as compiled by user insight_led, as well as a more recent one from the Japanese-language anime news site Anime! Anime! Being a decade and a half old means opinions can change over time (or according to the age of the voters), which is what I normally would expect, but there are some surprises.

Character Popularity

Looking at the Naver rankings, here are the top 10 characters from each year, along with the tallies each one accrued, based on comments on social networking sites like Twitter and Facebook. Also, kids were not included in the votes; if that core audience was allowed to vote, there’d likely be a significant difference.

2015 (Go! Princess Precure airs)

  1. Cure Beauty (1,541)
  2. Cure Marine (1,224)
  3. Cure Passion (1,107)
  4. Cure Twinkle (750)
  5. Cure Pine (624)
  6. Cure Happy (580)
  7. Cure Ace (575)
  8. Cure Lovely (489)
  9. Cure Peace (440)
  10. Cure Heart (432)

2016 (Maho Girls Precure airs)

  1. Cure Beauty (20,041)
  2. Cure Happy (15,580)
  3. Cure Marine (12,824)
  4. Cure Peace (12,682)
  5. Cure Passion (8,107)
  6. Cure Twinkle (7,750)
  7. Cure Heart (7,432)
  8. Cure Lovely (6,999)
  9. Cure Scarlet (6,890)
  10. Cure Miracle (6,619)

2017 (Kira Kira Precure a la Mode airs)

  1. Cure Happy (12,450)
  2. Cure Beauty (11,394)
  3. Cure Marine (8,924)
  4. Cure Peace (8,804)
  5. Cure Passion (6,409)
  6. Cure Flora (6,102)
  7. Cure Lovely (5,877)
  8. Cure Heart (5,322)
  9. Cure Blossom (5,285)
  10. Cure Chocolat (5,180)

Based on these three rankings, what surprises me is how little recency bias actually seems to influence results. Cure Beauty and Cure Marine are consistently top 3, even as the total counts fluctuate. There appears to be something enduring about both of those characters, which is all the more interesting because they’re 1) in unrelated series 2) almost polar opposites in personality.

For Cure Beauty, the reasons generally given for her popularity are that she’s an ideal combination of strength, intelligence, and beauty. Out of all Precures, Beauty most closely matches the yamato nadeshiko (traditional ideal Japanese woman) in both looks and demeanor, so I wonder how much that’s a factor.

When it comes to Cure Marine, however, the queen of comedic intensity defies expectations for why fans come to love Precure characters in the first place. As mentioned in those rankings, while pretty every other character generally gets comments like “I want to be her” and “I want to be with her,” Marine’s are mostly “I wish she were my best friend.” Seeing as Marine is my favorite Precure character, I’d like to think the Japanese fans also just have incredibly good taste.

Show Popularity

According to the Anime! Anime! poll, the top 3 most beloved Precure series are as follows:

  1. Go! Princess Precure
  2. Futari wa Pretty Cure
  3. Heartcatch Precure!
  4. Kira Kira Precure a la Mode
  5. Smile Precure!
  6. Maho Girls Precure!
  7. Fresh Pretty Cure!!
  8. Yes! Pretty Cure 5 Go Go!
  9. Yes! Pretty Cure 5
  10. Futari wa Precure Max Heart
  11. DokiDoki! Precure
  12. Suite Precure
  13. Futari wa Pretty Cure Splash Star
  14. Happiness Charge Precure!

It should be noted that given the purpose of the site, the general audience for Anime! Anime! would skew towards older and more interested in anime as an industry. One goes there to read essays about and interviews with creators, as well as following general anime news. That’s why I think it’s no coincidence that the most popular iterations of Precure are 1) the original pioneer 2) the series with (in my opinion) the strongest narratives and overall messages. What I’m more surprised about is how well this top 3 aligns with my personal tastes. I consider Heartcatch and Go! Princess to be #1 and #2, respectively, and the unrefined, yet innovative quality of the first Pretty Cure to be a big part of its charm.

While the character rankings and the series rankings are from two different sources, I find it remarkable that character popularity and series popularity don’t really line up. Based on my personal experience, this isn’t a complete shock, but I think it really goes to show that memorable characters can exist almost apart from their sources. Cure Heart is a top 10 (out of 51) character, but Doki Doki! Precure is a bottom 5 (out of 14) show, according to the above sources. It’s also interestingt to me that Cure Marine comes out ahead here. She’s considered a top 3 character, and Heartcatch Precure! is seen as a top 3 show.

Go! Princess Precure is considered the best Precure anime, but interestingly enough, it also has among the worst toy sales out of the entire franchise.

Go! Princess Precure is third from bottom

One might assume that a greater focus on quality storytelling might conflict with how one of the purposes of Precure is to sell toys, but this is not necessarily the case. According to the chart above, the most successful Precure in terms of merchandise sales is actually Heartcatch Precure! There’s perhaps a challenge in being able to achieve high marks in both, but it’s not impossible. The fact that one doesn’t seem to have any bearing on the other is simultaneously reassuring and daunting.

Conclusion (or lack thereof)

I’m not a statistician and I don’t pretend to be. I’m also unsure if there are any truths deeper than what I observed, like how Cure Marine is the Nintendo Switch of Precure (doesn’t compete directly with other Precures and is the better for it), and that toy sales and show quality almost exist on separate planes.

So in closing, Heartcatch Precure! and Cure Marine are the best. Fight me.

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Imaginative, Inspiring: Next Door Spy

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This review is part of coverage for the 2018 New York International Children’s Film Festival.

Danish animated film Next Door Spy by director Karla von Bengston is a cute story of growing up and fighting to have the confidence to believe in oneself and one’s passions. Couched in a “kid in new town” setting with a splash of film noir, Next Door Spy is consistently witty and inspiring.

Next Door Spy follows the appropriately named Agatha Christine (AC for short), a girl with a love of mysteries who’s constantly playing detective to her mother’s reluctance. Her family has just recently moved to a new town in Denmark for a fresh start, but while AC sees it as the perfect opportunity to scope out new crimes, her mom (a police officer) just wants AC to be a little more “normal.” When AC learns that a local grocery has been a victim of shoplifting, she gets to work—and her prime suspect is an aloof skater boy.

The film is mostly down to earth, but is inter-spliced with black and white noir renditions of AC acting out her detective dreams. It’s an entertaining juxtaposition particularly because AC’s true love for investigation is on display. Her cherished PI’s hat and coat, along with her various makeshift gadgets, are just the right degree of “obtainable fantasy” that can inspire kids to do more yet still feel like movie magic. The mystery and non-mystery elements weave together cohesively to make all of the characters, even the adults, feel relatable.

Next Door Spy succeeds as a family film because it’s great for adults and older children looking back and younger children looking forward. Just about everyone can benefit from having a bit of AC in them.

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