Emotional Continuity in Anime

What does it mean for a work of fiction to feel “realistic?” It’s a question I return to over and over because of how subjective the answer can be. The more I’ve thought about different possible takes, however, the more I’ve found that I resonate strongly with something I call “emotional continuity,” and it informs which series I view most positively.

Broadly speaking, there are many types of continuity in storytelling. There’s the simple that the events of the past should inform the events of the future. A character who loses an arm in episode 1 of a show shouldn’t get it back with no explanation in episode 10. Then there’s capital “C” continuity, like what American superhero comics often deal in, where all the individual parts ideally look together to form a consistent universe and timeline across multiple different series. “Emotional continuity” isn’t nearly so complex. Instead, I define it as simply when events that should affect a given character emotionally result in an appropriate response, and that this character remembers this feeling on some level. Those reactions and memories don’t have to be “sensible,” and they don’t have to result in a “character arc,” though both are possibilities. They simply have to feel consistent with the character and their way of being, and then leave a mark on that character.

One work I’ve debated with others about realism (and by extension show quality, though the two are not necessarily related) is the anime Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans. Whereas others saw the character actions as making little sense and thus stunting the overall story, I felt the opposite. I came to strongly understand each character’s motivations, especially in the core cast, and to see how early events both happy and tragic would inform the general trajectory of their approaches to life.

Another anime that I’ve argued about is Kill la Kill, specifically in regards to the idea that the heroine, Ryuko, is a strong main character even though she didn’t receive much “character development.” The big sticking point for detractors is that she doesn’t really change significantly throughout the series or learn any personal lessons. However, I find that even if she doesn’t transform dramatically, she conveys a strong sense of “emotional continuity” based in her anger, her stubbornness, and her desire to right wrongs. Even if she’s still the same rage-filled Ryuko by the end, it’s impossible to say that the events of the series don’t affect her emotionally or inform her friendships, battles, and decisions.

I realized that “emotional continuity” also greatly informs my utter fondness for the series Heartcatch Precure! and might even explain why the series is often seen as the best of the Precure franchise or somewhat overrated. Years ago, a blogger named Scamp tried to watch through as much Precure as he could, but ended up dropping every show, including Heartcatch. His reason was that nothing ever seemed to happen for the most part, and that dramatic, story-changing moments came too abruptly. This surprised me, because I felt the total opposite—that the show built up to every significant plot point like a skilled architect oversaw the construction. I even wrote a response. In hindsight, while I used the phrase “emotional logic,” i.e. reasoning through feelings, to describe what I saw, what I was actually highlighting was emotional continuity.

Moonlight…in suffering loss…felt wracked with guilt, giving up her role as protector. The task to defend the world had been passed onto a new generation…and as they collected the Heart Seeds, they laid the groundwork for Moonlight to redeem herself, to learn from her mistakes while also forgiving herself…. Although Cure Moonlight’s return is telegraphed to a degree, for me it built anticipation … I felt satisfied that the show had reached a strong emotional point with a solid expression of how the feelings of each character, especially Moonlight, defined their actions.

Rarely in fiction is anything utterly devoid of emotional continuity, but the best series make you feel as if they care about what’s happened to their characters. Something that has had issues with maintaining this continuity in recent years was World Wrestling Entertainment, and that seems to be finally turned around in the past couple years. While there are general structural issues with how WWE presents itself that go beyond emotional continuity, it’s telling that fans had very little faith in their favorites wrestlers being recognizable beyond a basic template. Continuity is played fast and loose in general, and the highly physical nature of their format means injuries and other unpredictable elements can gum up the best laid plans, but there’s a persistent sense that what a given wrestler does or says one week should actually matter the next.

Do you find emotional continuity to be important? If so, how much is it a priority for you? I’m curious to see how others feel.

Ogiue Maniax Talking Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans S2 on the Veef Show Podcast

It’s another go at Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans on the Veef Show! Following our season 1 podcast, we discuss the finale to this newest series. I’m warmer on the series while Veef is colder, but it’s interesting discussion overall.

Fight for Survival, Dream for the Future – Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans

Gundam is a massive and unwieldy franchise. With a history spanning over four decades of anime, sequels, spin-offs, alternate universes, and more, after a while the distinctions between each Gundam series starts to blur. Each time there’s supposed to be a “unique” take on Gundam, they will often carry enough of the common tropes to be familiar, or will slowly jettison the new elements in favor of going with the tried and true. This is the perpetual challenge that Gundam faces, so it is to my surprise that not only did I enjoy the recent Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans TV series (which is not the shocking part; I love Gundam in general), but that I felt it maintained its identity and its high quality despite it being just the kind of series set up to derail itself.

Iron-Blooded Orphan (IBO) takes place in a futuristic world where battles are waged using giant robots called mobile suits. The story centers around the characters Mikazuki Augus and Orga Itsuka, two boys who belong to the bottom-most rung of society, uncharitably called “human debris,” and who at the start of the series are essentially indentured child soldiers for a mercenary group. Early on, they and their fellow human debris rebel against their masters, create their own mercenary group called “Tekkadan,” and fight to try and find a place in a world that literally calls them garbage. Along the way, they meet a number of allies, notably Kudelia Aina Bernstein, a young aristocrat from Mars with lofty ideals of justice and equality, an encounter which changes their lives.

On the surface, Mikazuki as the pilot of the Gundam Barbatos appears to be cut from a certain cloth of Gundam protagonist. As a highly skilled pilot who has fought from a very young age and whose lack of expressiveness makes him appear emotionless, Mikazuki is descended from previous characters such as Heero Yuy from Gundam W and Setsuna F. Seiei from Gundam 00. Where Mikazuki differs from the other two is how IBO highlights his connections with Orga.

Mikazuki is cold and merciless to his enemies, but within his friendship with Orga (it’s perhaps better to call them “brothers”), there’s a very unique connection. Mikazuki is not an empty shell, but he sees in Orga a strong ambition, and he essentially acts as a right arm for the sake of his long-time companion. Similar relationships exist between Mikazuki and Kudelia, as well as between Mikazuki and a long-time female friend named Atra Mixta. Other notable characters are Naze Turbine, a man who literally has a harem of women as his ship’s crew but is actually more about empowering women by giving them skills and educations, and McGillis Fareed, a high-ranking officer who shows what happens when friendship and ambition collide. These characters and relationships are among the many that collectively create a narrative where camaraderie and family persist in the face of harsh odds. IBO never abandons that sense of family, and it is crucial to understanding the role of Tekkadan in all of the conflicts that occur as the series moves towards its conclusions.

One notable aspect of IBO relative to past Gundam series is that, in spite of the series being subjected to the dreaded “split-season” approach, it remains remarkably consistent. One of the major pitfalls of many mecha anime from Studio Sunrise over the past 10 years or so is a tendency to try and improve aspects of the series based on marketing and merchandising feedback. Often times, the series end up losing much of what made them special in the process, but this never really happens with IBO.

In terms of emphasizing toy sales over story, IBO actually shows a great deal of restraint. According to series lore, Gundam Barbatos is just one of 72 different Gundams used in a previous conflict known as the “Calamity War.” In another series, especially one more focused on profits from merchandise, it’s likely we would have seen all 72 show up onscreen. However, even at the conclusion of IBO, only a handful appear. The Barbatos itself is also supposed to have a feature that allows it to integrate the weapons and abilities of other mobile suits, but the anime never really puts this front and center. Changes that occur in the Barbatos more reflect the changes and traumas that Mikazuki goes through as the series progresses.

Because IBO keeps its feet firmly planted and doesn’t fly off-track in a desperate attempt to cater to market research, Tekkadan never stops feeling like Tekkadan. No matter how powerful Mikazuki becomes, and no matter how much Tekkadan’s forces are bolstered, they never stop feeling like an underdog. The steps they take to get further are microscopic compared to the vastness of what surrounds them, especially when it comes to the realm of human society. One of the recurring aspects of IBO highlights this well. While Tekkadan gains military power, their approach to life, which is to treat themselves as a family first and a mercenary group second, often leaves them lacking and inexperienced in terms of diplomacy. On multiple occasions, success on the battlefield is contrasted with failure politically.

The story told in Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans feels like just a small slice of a vast world and history. Whether this is the end of the IBO universe or the start of something more, I come away immensely satisfied.

To Japan! Ogiue Maniax Status Update for May 2016

This month I will be flying to Japan to do some sightseeing and meet with some old friends! I actually haven’t been to Japan in 11 years, so I’m curious as to how it’s changed. It’s also an opportunity to see how my Japanese has improved (or degraded) in the time since I’ve been gone!

I have posts planned for the weeks that I’m gone, so you’ll still be able to enjoy my posts in the meantime.

As for this month’s special Patreon sponsors:

General:

Johnny Trovato

Ko Ransom

Alex

Diogo Prado

Sasahara Keiko fans:

Kristopher Hostead

Yoshitake Rika fans:

Elliot Page

Hato Kenjirou fans:

Elizabeth

Yajima Mirei fans:

Machi-Kurada

Following up on last month’s poll about reviewing the new manga series Kimi xxxru Koto Nakare (or Kimi nakare for short), I decided to go with the good ol’ fashioned blog format. It’s where my strengths lie, and while I’m open to challenging myself by making YouTube videos and such, I’m just the kind of person who best expresses himself in writing. You can read the first chapter review here, but if you can either read Japanese or at least want to follow along visually the manga is actually free.

That being said, I’ve considered making videos just to help me practice and get better at speaking, which is more of a holistic quality of life change than anything else. I made a couple a while back but I just haven’t kept up. Though, I did just recently appear on the Veef Show podcast to talk about Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans.

This month’s Genshiken review is the first after the conclusion of the Madarame Harem story, and it’s basically a prelude to a new school year. I loved this chapter because of all of the fantastic Ogiue presence in there, but I might be a tad biased.

Other articles that I think readers should check out are my look at the volleyball manga Shoujo Fight and its stylistic similarities to what is sometimes call “OEL manga,” as well as a sponsored post discussing the Popularity of Plushies among anime fans. Actually, Shoujo Fight reminds me that I never finished The V Sign, which is a classic volleyball title, and I really should get back to it.

I’ve also begun participating in a site called senpai.co as a reviewer. While Ogiue Maniax is my main focus, and Apartment 507 is my opportunity to try and reach a different audience, senpai.co is a convenient place to give some quick thoughts about recent anime that has a greater sense of permanence than Twitter.

Last topics for this month:

  1. I’ve been considering changing my blog design to something that doesn’t look quite so outdated. What do you think?
  2. I want to revive Gattai Girls. Is there any series people really want to see discussed?

 

Ogiue Maniax Talking Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans on the Veef Show Podcast

fumitan

I stopped by the Veef Show to discuss the latest Mobile Suit Gundam series, Iron-Blooded Orphans. Have a listen, as we have fairly different perspectives on the show, and I’d love to know what you think of the series as well.

For reference, the post I mentioned about McGillis can be found here, and the series I mention at the end of the podcast that I have begun chapter reviewing is here.

So in conclusion, Fumitan Admoss is the best.

McGillis from Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans is More Char than Char

McGillis_Fareed-5_G-Tekketsu-5Ever since Char Aznable became one of anime’s most memorable characters, many Gundam series have included similar rivals for their heroes. In general, they’re enemy pilots of roughly equal power who wear masks or something similar to hide their faces, and who often have their own ulterior, if noble, motives. Most recently joining the likes of Zechs Merquise, Harry Ord, and more is McGillis Fareed from Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans, and his approach to being “a Char” is probably the most well-realized out of all of them.

Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans spoilers below.

Throughout the original Gundam, Char Aznable is willing to (and has!) back-stabbed even his closest friends because his true goal, to get vengeance for the death of his father, overrides any sort of sentiment he might possess. McGillis is incredibly similar. He’s willing to sacrificing childhood friends for the sake of accomplishing his motives, but in a way he might also be even more scheming and cut-throat than Char himself. While Char might sabotage some of his own side for personal reasons, he never actively leaked information to the enemy or tried to orchestrate both sides to fall in his favor.

McGillis has gone from being a fairly interesting character to being one of the reasons I’m looking forward to the next season of Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans. Given the overall quality of the show, I really, really hope the series doesn’t suffer from Sunrise “half-way point syndrome” like so many of their mecha anime, where in an attempt to become more successful a show loses what made it special in the first place.

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Realism: Gundam Thunderbolt vs. Gundam Iron-Blooded Orphans

As the progenitor of the “real robot genre,” every time a new Gundam series comes out the question of its realism comes up. Even though its robots tend to be brightly colored and increasingly full of weird weapons, the simple formula of mecha as tool of war endures. Just this past year, we’ve had both Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans, which follows a group of child soldiers, and Gundam Thunderbolt, which combines a gritty feel with a more hard science fiction feel. Which is more realistic? Does it matter?

I don’t intend to actually answer these questions. Rather, I’m bringing them up to try and start a discussion about the ways in which we try to position the idea of realism in something like Gundam. It’s not the first time I‘ve talked about it on this blog, either. With the first episode of Gundam Thunderbolt available, however, I can’t help but feel that it’s probably the Gundam a lot of the fans who revel in a certain image of realism have been looking for. One might call it the Macross Plus of the Gundam franchise in this respect. Its hard SF aspects, both in terms of presentation of technology and its expected character types, provide an interesting contrast to Iron-Blooded Orphans, which has a more contemporary “anime” look, cute girls and handsome boys and all. One can almost detect a generation gap in Thunderbolt vs. Iron-Blooded Orphans in terms of anime fandom; Thunderbolt feels like it came out of the science fiction conventions from which anime cons originally grew from.

In turn, Iron-Blooded Orphans seems more divisive in terms of what it tries to do with its realism, its young boys trying to carve a place in the world because of their circumstances as child soldiers. Of course, child soldiers aren’t new to Gundam. One could argue that the earliest protagonists of Gundam were child soldiers, but in this case it’s more the young guerilla archetype, seen also in Gundam 00. I do see Iron-Blooded Orphans get a bit more flack, and though my sample might be skewed by the fellow fans I interact with and observe, I think it has to do with how Iron-Blooded Orphans, unlike Thunderbolt, carries a kind of more “feminine” aesthetic that does not jive with more traditional images of realism as gritty.

Of course, grittiness does not automatically equal realism, but I think we’re trained to believe it. It’s one of the biggest trends of modern video games, and while there are plenty of games that push against it, many kids are growing up being taught by games and media that this is what “real” looks like. That said, Gundam Thunderbolt still has elements of the fantastic, and perhaps in the space between it and Iron-Blooded Orphans we can find versions of “realism” to satisfy all of those looking for it.

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