I expect the storyboard on my desk by next Tuesday.

tiboreau: Last week We Remember Love aniblogger Ghostlightning challenged his readers with an ultimatum. Don’t like some of the anime that airs each season? Well, what type of anime would you like to see—and be creative! Inspired by both the challenge and Ghostlightning’s own creative anime concoction, a few of Altair & Vega‘s writers were motivated to share their own anime concepts. We hope you enjoy!

ajthefourth: Here are the parameters as set by Ghostlightning himself:

• The series must be for television. Episode count would be nice if included, but is not necessary.
• Namedropping is meaningless. If you do it, provide context, i.e. if you have a favorite director, what is it about his/her style that makes you want them to take the helm of your dream anime and steer it into greatness?
• Don’t simply repeat ideas from elsewhere.

With that said, let’s all hop on our imaginative magic carpets and away we go!

The Anime That AJtheFourth Would Really Like to See

My anime that I would really like to see addresses the needs of a very specific viewer, one who is underserved in the anime medium: a woman in her late twenties.

There are very few anime targeted at women in their twenties and thirties, in spite of a seemingly profitable josei manga market. The only animated josei series that I’ve seen attempt to target this age bracket specifically was Princess Jellyfish. Since it had to wrap itself up with an anime-only ending (the manga is still ongoing) it devolved a bit too quickly into wish fulfillment, although I personally love it nonetheless. This isn’t to gripe and say, “My gosh, why does anime never make anything for me?” I know that it’s simply not profitable; however, in spite of loving anime and watching it happily, I rarely see something that really resonates with me on a personal level. The last series that so struck me was the aforementioned Princess Jellyfish.

Therefore, I want to see a realistic portrayal of a working woman in her late twenties, and what personal or societal issues she struggles with.

As another small demand, I would love it if within this anime the main character will develop herself outside of the realm of romance. The lead character may have a relationship—actually, I would prefer it if she were in a steady relationship; however, I would want her character to evolve outside of any romantic involvement. The relationship would be yet another thing in her life that she has to balance, not the main catalyst for plot movement or character development: a factor in her life, and an important one, but not the factor.

I would want the setting to be in or around a major city. It’s important to note that the main character would already be very familiar with said location, and that the setting would have to be realistic, almost a character of the series in its own right (think Ikebukuro in Durarara!!). The cast would be small, but well-developed and nuanced: the lead character, her closest friends, a few co-workers, and a family member here or there. Having a family completely intact and functional would be a welcome change, unlike in Princess Jellyfish, where Tsukimi’s otaku tendencies stem from the loss of her mother.

This series based on its nature would be a short one, only one cours, or approximately 12 episodes, since its message is something more easily dispensed through a slice-of-life setup. Although it would be complex in character development, it wouldn’t need 24 episodes as many plot-heavy series tend to demand. The production values wouldn’t have to be anything outstanding; however, again, with a character-driven series such as this, attention to detail is key. Instead of wowing the audiences with astounding visual feats, something simply stylized, detail-oriented, and well-storyboarded would suffice.

The Anime That Bitmap Would Really Like to See

I’m not one for long, elaborate stories. Of course, there are long and epic tales that I love, but to this day what I really love to read are anthologies of short stories. From the brilliant science fiction of Ray Bradbury to the Sherlock Holmes mysteries of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, these bite-sized tales have proven time and again that you don’t need hundreds of pages to create captivating characters and situations.

One of the greats of the form is O. Henry, a writer whose stories ooze style and wit. His stories are perhaps best known for their twist endings (“The Gift of the Magi”), but what really stands out in my mind is the diverse yet uniquely American nature of his stories. If there ever were a work that best captured the spirit of New York around the turn of the century, I think The Four Million would be it.

Give me an anime like that, but for Tokyo. Show me the lives of the people in the biggest metropolitan area of the world. But not just any part of Tokyo: give me a show that centers around Akihabara. Screw your schoolboy protagonists and your magical girls; have the stories be about the real people in Akiba: the maid who passes out tissues, the electronics store owner who’s seen the town transform, the cosplayer in the street. And naturally, there are the otaku: the gamer looking for that rare 90s title, the businessman who wants to keep his anime obsession a secret, the foreigner making his first pilgrimage, and so on. The focus here should be on short, self-contained stories, so I’d like no recurring cast of characters outside of background cameos.

The thematic focus here would be the interplay between the reality of the lives of the characters and the wonderfully manufactured fiction that surrounds them with Akiba as a backdrop. I think it would really give the series the cohesion that a short story anthology needs to be more than a disconnected series of stories. The real main character of the show here is Akihabara, and how people are affected by its presence. A realistic portrayal should also be an important aspect; think something like Bartender or similar seinen shows.

As for the episode count, a standard one-cours show of 13 episodes is fine. Each story should be short enough to split an episode up into two or three parts à la Sayonara Zetsubō Sensei. That’s anywhere from 26 to 39 unique stories, all in the course of one season.

So yes, the anime I want to see is a show primarily featuring otaku that takes place in Akihabara, and yet forgoes the tropes of boob-groping and fortuitous skirt-blowing for a more mature look at how Akiba culture affects people, sometimes in surprising ways. Quite the tall order, perhaps. . . .

Oh wait, I want MOSAIC.WAV (NSFW) to do the music for it, though. Because I mean, c’mon, it’s about Akiba. . . .

The Anime That Blackholeheart Would Really Like to See

I, like Ghostlightning, have a fascination with history and feel the Middle East is a largely untapped source of story. But my personal fixation is on early to mid Bronze Age Mesopotamia and specifically the last twenty years of the reign of Naram-Sin, third king of the Akkadian Empire. He was the grandson of Sargon, who was the basis for the biblical Nimrod, and ruled a polyglot multi-ethnic kingdom at the height of its influence and the beginning of its fall.

This was an information driven, Technocratic society that in many ways would provide a plethora of opportunities to draw parallels between our worlds. At the same time, a large portion of their mindset would be alien to us today. Even though there are a number of facts, cultural tics and personal habits that came down to us from them, their understanding of religion was utterly different than the discrete concept we possess. For the Akkadians, every aspect of life was filled with the supernatural, the numinous. Religion was the lens through which they understood the world.

It’s this that I would like to see as the core theme of the show as it follows a pair of siblings through their lives. It should run two cours alternating between our two main characters. One, a young man who because of his facility with languages joins the Imperial Messenger corps. This is a character that would give us glimpses into urban home life, farms, battlefields, royal courts, temples, and even exotic cultures like the Indus Valley civilization. I see his story as being episodic in nature like Mushishi. A unique feature of Akkadian life was that women weren’t locked in the role of mother and housewife, so our second main character would be his older sister. As a merchant who is running a pottery near the temple market, her story would explore economics, city politics, and temple social life. This part would be more Spice and Wolf meets slice of life.

I’m going to bend the name dropping rule and say I would like for the show to be animated by a studio such as Production I. G. or Manglobe that has experience with doing detailed “real world” settings. And they could handle making the supernatural elements of the story ambiguous enough that the viewer could see the characters’ point of view and their own at the same time.

There would be events of great importance happening in their world, such as the king declaring himself a god and his ordering the Ekur temple of Enlil sacked at Nippur. The choices our heroes make would matter but they aren’t at the center of the events occurring around them. Most of the action would be on the personal level, and the big events would be more about how a normal person of that era coped with the extraordinary, letting us reflect on how we would handle the same.

The Anime That Tiboreau Would Really Like to See

As a recent anime convert whose visual arts foundation was built on the live-action classics of Hollywood and abroad, the one experience I’ve missed in anime is the marriage of the hard-boiled, cynical heartbeat of the American crime novel and German Expressionist cinematography that film critics have dubbed film noir.

The rain-soaked streets of an urban labyrinth. The play of light and shadow, obscuring profiles, bathing the screen in the silhouette of a banister, or venetian blinds. Dizzying shots at low, wide, or Dutch angles. Night filming. The Femme Fatale. Voice overs. Flashbacks. Anti-heroes & cynical fatalism. Paranoia and shifting societal mores. These are some of the tropes commonly associated with the style of film noir, crime melodramas that expose society’s underbelly while drenched in style. Born in pulp novels and honed by the melodramatic gaze of German imports, film noir‘s influence spread from the hotbed of American B movies of the ’40s and ’50s to Europe, even Japan, across time and the boundaries of cinematography as generations of filmmakers aped, even parodied, its distinctive style and tone.

While a few anime have mimicked film noir, adding a twist of science fiction or the supernatural, this film noir anime will return to the period roots of the genre, born in the criminal fiction of the 1920s, with a twist. We’ll take Dashiell Hammett’s iconic detective, the Continental Op, pluck him from the San Francisco streets and plop him in Taishō era Tokyo. Or rather, our cynical private eye will be Japanese. Kimonos and western clothing. Burgeoning democracy and traditional attitudes. The Great Kanto Earthquake. It will be a mixture of cultural traits, viewed from the backdrop of the era, and film noir tropes, depicting the ethnic, economic and political insecurity of the industrial modernization that forced moral flux and birthed film noir.

The criminal detective concept is flexible enough to accommodate multiple seasons; however, our film noir anime will be restricted to between 11 and 13 episodes, providing its viewers just a taste of period Tokyo. Each episode will begin with a cold open, portraying an aspect of Tokyo life fatalistically awry. From the poverty-stricken to the upper-class oujo-sama, we’ll witness the complex twists of the seedier motivations of survival as our workmanlike P.I. is visited by desperate bishojo and bishounen. While laced with momentary optimism, the series will be saturated in tragedy as our detective attempts, at times ineffectually, to navigate an urban labyrinth obscured by fog and shadow. Simply put, it will be animated film noir, steeped in period style and drama.

The Anime That Vucub Caquix Would Really Like to See

There was a game in development more than half a decade ago by the name of Imperator. It aimed to be an MMORPG in a sci-fi setting when the majority were of the sword-and-sorcery variety. In all honesty, gameplay footage shows that it was canceled with good reason. But the setting of it is another matter entirely.

Can you imagine a Roman Empire that never fell? Possibly even a Roman Empire that united enough of the world to guide humanity into the stars?

That was the premise of Imperator, one that I would very much love to see animated. Specifically, because I would love to see different worlds and settings that are impossible to film traditionally, and may be too expensive to realize digitally. Worlds that are limited only to the extent of the imagination of the art directors and background artists. Worlds of vastly varied settings, united by certain common architectural flourishes. After all, the Roman Empire was known to forcibly spread its culture through conquest and concrete.

This anime would be exactly 24, or 27 episodes, because I envision it playing out over in three distinct arcs. The main character would be an adult male who works in politics, the military, law enforcement, or some kind of investigative organization. Something that gives easy pretense for traveling throughout the Galactic Roman Empire.

The first arc would be what introduces the audience to the setting, characters, and themes of the show. I’d like for the stories to be mostly self-contained, possibly in some kind of procedural format like Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex. It’d be through these encounters that the show can examine how differently society played out had Rome never fallen. Western civilization draws a lot of its customs and conventions from Rome and Greece, but not everything. Is fatal violence still a viable form of entertainment? Gladiators murdered each other for the sake of the mob that was Rome. What of race relations and social stratification? Slavery was a common occurrence. What of women’s suffrage and equality? I know Cicero did not think too highly of the “weaker sex.”

The second arc would show greater continuity between the episodes. Perhaps the character is showing advancement in his field? Rising in the ranks of the Senate, advancing and garnering more command among the Legions, promotion amongst the Vigiles, or just gathering greater renown for their investigative scoops. Whatever it would be, it would also mean deeper insight into the society at large and possibly expose the dangerous problems that underlie.

The third act would be the fall of the Galactic Roman Empire. The military in disarray, the economy collapsing, some strange religion from one of the remote provincial planets taking hold, conflicts with other civilizations becoming more severe. The Emperor, deposed. And there we would end, with an uncertain future for the provincial planets, and new governments forming to take the place for the fall of Rome. Our main character, only a small entity, amounting to nothing more than a witness to the upheaval of everything around him.

The kind of fanservice I’d wish for this show would be scenes of the main character and his traveling companions just having conversations about the great thinkers of Greece and Rome. Marcus Aurelius, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, bonus points if the philosophies they discussed were pertinent to the themes of the episode. Yes, I would like that very much.

Oh, and Hans Zimmer would do the soundtrack. Just because.

"Stay strong, Katou Marika! Fight, Katou Marika! Space awaits you!"

The opening narrations for these episodes are important. They bring the audience up to speed while simultaneously fleshing out more of the world and speaking to the themes of the forthcoming episode. The tone of this week’s introduction had me confused for a while. It took a much more bombastic approach than what we’ve seen prior, speaking to a bold and assertive Marika that’s perhaps a bit too enthusiastic about her role. I had it down as an allusion to a style of introduction long past that I had not seen and accepted it for that. It wasn’t until the end card had been revealed, which echoed a line that Misa Grandwood had given, that I had finally understood what this week was meditating on:

The dangers of pride, and hubris.

"There are times when trying harder isn't enough."

Marika is near her limit. She’s taken on responsibilities as the fledgling captain of the Bentenmaru, while retaining her status as a student and her position at the maid café. She insists she can do it, and will not entertain the idea of giving any of it up. This, of course, is easily understood as she’s been painted as a diligent person who sees everything through to the end. This is a lesson she’s taken to heart and is not easily discarded. However, we never examined the motivation behind what pushes her to overachieve. Who better than the character described as the “most grounded” to explain this for us?

Chiaki visits the Lamp House to see Marika (despite what she says) but has a conversation and a stroll with Mami instead. It’s here that the audience learns that the reason why Marika is so diligent and well-regarded by her peers is that she lives in the constant self-imposed shadow of her mother, Ririka. Ririka is a large presence, one that I was aware of forty-five seconds from the moment she came onto the screen. We haven’t quite seen this before, but it turns out that much of what motivates Marika is a combination of admiration and insecurity, both directed towards her mother. This is why Marika asked Schnitzer about Ririka last week, and what she was like as a captain. The response he gave in return turned out to be exactly what Marika needed to hear, even if the audience didn’t know that yet.

“Hey Schnitzer…”

“What?”

“You went pirating with Blaster Ririka, right?”

“Yeah, just like this.”

“What was my mother like?”

“Why does it matter? You’re your own person. And Ririka is Ririka. Concentrate on the task at hand.”

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s why I came to space.”

This can initially be interpreted as a daughter who wishes to know more about her mother, and it wouldn’t be wrong, but this is also the inquiring of someone who is somewhat afraid of the legacy they have to live up to. Mami describes Marika’s perception of her mother as being that of a large mountain, one that she doesn’t necessarily want to climb, but to stand proudly next to as another mountain. This aspiration mixed with a bit of intimidation is what drives Marika to not only continue her pirating, but also carry on her studies while holding on to her part-time job at the maid café. It’s getting hard on her, but she’s too prideful to admit that this may not be tenable. Though the truth outs in the quivering of her eyes.

"I'm just fine! I'll try harder"

Sometimes, trying harder isn’t enough, but when confronted with that piece of wisdom, Marika’s reaction is especially telling. She emphasizes that whether or not her ability to try hard is enough, is contingent on her own decision. Which is one that she will make, and on her own. The insinuation that she may not be able to handle the new burdens placed on her is a personal affront to her sense of self and her sense of pride, and she refuses to back down or reconsider her limitations.

What Moretsu has to say about this is revealed in the fantasy/dream sequence after the opening credits. Why would the captain herself go out on a potentially dangerous reconnaissance mission? Marika delegates responsibilities and duties to the crew members as she flies out on this mission, but she is still very much the crux of this fantasy. There’s beautiful orchestration, impactful dialogue, gorgeous visuals, and an overall very bombastic nature that is over the top relative to how Moretsu has carried itself so far. She takes the initiative on her own to complete the objective of the mission, and remarks that if she doesn’t return soon, the Bentenmaru would be in danger without her. What does she get for her troubles?

She’s ambushed, presumably shot down, and wakes up in an embarrassingly compromised situation after homeroom had ended.

It’s a danger to those who’ve taken to the infinite possibilities placed before them without disorientation. The sudden desire to do anything and everything possible is a very real outcome, as is the burnout associated with not knowing your limits should you continue. Marika has yet to internalize this, as she still acts in a fairly prideful way through to the end of the episode. During the conflict with the Symphony Angel, Marika had known that the battle was staged and that the shots being fired were part of an “optional service package”. Knowing this, she casually remarks that perhaps she should order the alarms be shut off for which she was chided rather swiftly by Misa Grandwood. After all, staged or not, an attack is still an attack.

This growing lapse in protocol, with increasingly ostentatious performances (including some rather gaudy makeup), and a growing reliance on herself above all others are warning signs of a hubristic outlook on her situation and circumstance that she’s come to. She puts everything on herself, believing that she is capable of it regardless of her own limitations, pointedly not asking or relying on anyone else for help. The danger in this, is that rather than respect and authority coming, occurring naturally to her as she acclimates and learns about everything around her, she’ll try to force the situation and possibly cull resentment in its stead.

How can Marika address these emerging problems within her regarding her growing pride and hubris? How will this affect and be affected by the sudden presence of galactic royalty? If Gruelle Serenity has had any kind of traditional upbringing that befits noble status, then her personality will be infused with pride and that will color how she approaches everything as well. But most pertinent of all, how will Marika react and adapt as the theater she performs in suddenly changes from that of dinner entertainment to galactic politics? We can only wait and see…

Space awaits you, Marika.

Addendum

• For those interested in watching, the stream is located at crunchyroll and will be available to non-subscribers on Feb 25, 2012.
  

“A world could be made in five pages, and one that was more pleasing than a model farm. The childhood of a spoiled prince could be framed within half a page, a moonlit dash through sleepy villages was one rhythmically emphatic sentence, falling in love could be achieved in a single word–a glance. The pages of a recently finished story seemed to vibrate in her hand with all the life they contained.”

-a narration regarding Briony Tallis, Atonement, Ian McEwan

Imagine you’re at a café. It’s a warm atmosphere; the feeling that one has when walking inside after being cold for quite some time. You wipe off your shoes, freshly damp from a snow squall, onto a damp, salt-stained mat that has obviously seen better days. Steam rises and screams from an espresso machine. It’s almost too warm, but a pleasant feeling nonetheless. As you walk in, your ears are immediately filled with chatter from a myriad of conversations. In fact, the entire café seems to thrum happily with its cacophony of white noise from its various inhabitants. You breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of coffee that seems to seep out of every wall and quietly, but happily, wait for your turn to order.

Suddenly, someone brushes up against you accidentally on their way to gather more paper napkins, procure a new straw seeing as theirs broke, or something of the like.

“Excuse me,” they say, cheeks reddening a bit.

You can’t help but notice that they are quite attractive; however, before you can open your mouth to say anything, they cheerily smile at you and walk back to their table. Another scream from the espresso machine swallows your late attempt to speak, or perhaps you didn’t say anything at all, only imagined it.

Your heart is beating a bit faster than it was before. Slowly, but covertly, as to not be seen as suspicious, you turn sideways and notice out of the corner of your eye that they’re sitting alone with their computer. Your mind can’t help but reiterate that they are, again, very attractive, and your heart begins to beat even faster. You begin to ask yourself all sorts of questions.

“Are they looking at me?”

“I should look at this…ah…painting on the wall…pretend to look deep in thought.”

“Would they even like art? No, maybe…well, either way, it will look like I’m intelligent.”

“Oh! I should probably check to make sure I look alright!”

As you lean forward to brush your bangs from your eyes while squinting to see yourself in the reflection of the glass-covered dessert case, your thoughts are brought to a screeching halt by the loud, seemingly antagonistic, voice from the person in line behind you.

“Hey! Are you going to order something or not?”

So ends your attempt to woo an attractive passerby in a café, and our little exercise. Unfortunately for you, and for most, it ends in tragedy. The heartbeat that becomes just a bit quicker, the over-analysis of what, in actuality, is a common and innocuous occurrence, these are just a few things that are part and parcel of being a dreamy romantic.

"So basically, this girl wanted to turn her fantasy into a reality, and chose me as the protagonist, so she sat near me."

Literary Girl in Daily Lives of High School Boys is an interesting, and hilarious, addition to what is already a funny little series. She self-centeredly haunts the same riverbank, imagining herself as the tragic heroine, Catherine (Wuthering Heights), when in reality she is Isabella, unfortunately naive and easy to tease or be taken advantage of. Hyper-aware of her situation, and waiting for her romantic hero, she reminds one of a multitude of similar characters: Briony Tallis in the opening scenes of the novel Atonement, who dreamily walks through life, adding her own romantic tension; Megumi in the opening scenes of Shiki, who dresses up to the nines in her sleepy farming village in the hopes that her crush will happen upon her and see her as the sophisticated lady that she is; and countless others. The crux of the dramatic tension, with comedic results, of literary girl is the play of her own astronomically high expectations pitted against the achingly dull-by-comparison reality of her everyday life.

In contrast, Daily Lives of High School Boys, presents a few different perspectives to Literary Girl, the first being the reaction of the high school boy who tries to impress her. This is especially evident in his romanticized response; instead of blowing her off or ignoring her, like one would expect, he wholeheartedly throws himself into her game in order to get her reaction. By attempting to meet her romantic expectations he is also able to momentarily escape his own reality. The comedic part comes in when a third party enters the equation with a more rational or realistic mindset (in the scene above, it’s another character yelling about potato chips being on sale at a convenience store).

"Damn! I didn't get to be the hero!"

Multiple other perspectives are presented from other high school boys in the series, especially the student council. All of these ideas hinge on the stereotypical male role of being a dramatic hero or protector. In the scene above, Tadakuni’s sister had gotten herself into a bit of trouble and the boys, in spite of telling her that they wouldn’t interfere, had hidden nearby, presumably to protect her should the situation escalate. It’s all very sweet as the camera pans down the line of boys who were waiting in the wings to protect her until they get to the end of the line where the young man above laments the fact that nothing happened, so he couldn’t play the part of the hero for Tadakuni’s sister. This, presumably, is the high school boy’s romanticism. Much like Literary Girl’s, it comes with ridiculous expectations of what will happen.

This *really* isn't what it looks like.

In another situation similar to the Literary Girl setups, the boys’ student council team is asking Ringo, the student council president of a nearby girls’ school, to borrow some equipment. Their unfortunate choice of setting for this confrontation is in a dark alley at night, resulting in a passerby, who also appears to be a high school boy, misunderstanding the situation and asking the guys to let Ringo go. Instead of rationally explaining what is actually happening, the three guys immediately identify with the passerby, choosing to act the part and pretending to attack Ringo in order to help him save face. Hilarity ensues when Ringo doesn’t understand and ends up pretending to attack the passerby as well.

Whether it’s Literary Girl, the student council, or the main characters, The Daily Lives of High School Boys has some humorous and interesting thoughts on romanticism, with all perspectives being inherently selfish: “I want to be the hero,” or, “I want this person to fit into my ideal romantic setting.” And why not? Anyone who has ever been a high school boy, or girl, can affirm that they are, indeed, the most selfish creatures of all.

Recommended Reading: Schneider wrote this charming Valentine’s Day post! I suggest everyone give it a look!

“Renton, people shouldn’t use up any more energy than what the sun shines down upon us. When you try to use up more than that, you end up having to dig for scubs to drain energy from, or having to build towers. You don’t have to do that. People can survive on what little land they are given to them.”  

~Will Baxter, Eureka Seven

The announcement of Eureka Seven Ao last December sparked my dormant interest in its parent story, a story I began several months earlier and neglected six episodes later. Fueled by Twitter’s enthusiasm, I revisited Eureka Seven, swiftly engrossed in its universe. And as I huddled over the flicker of the 3.5” screen of my iPod Touch during the morning’s wee hours, Renton’s convalescence and education at the hands of William B. Baxter awoke memories of another tale. A tale of a young man on a journey not unlike Renton’s, encountering influential individuals not unlike Will Baxter. That tale was Lloyd Alexander’s juvenile epic, The Prydain Chronicles, and as a youth its perspective on everyday life influenced my own outlook on the world.

A children’s fantasy loosely based on Welsh mythology, Alexander’s tale focuses on the journey of a young orphan, Taran of Caer Dallben, as he is molded by the tumultuous events of life in Welsh-styled Prydain. Like Renton, the fatherless Taran yearns for the exciting experiences of the outside world beyond humble Caer Dallben, and in Taran Wanderer, the fourth novel of Alexander’s five book series, he journeys in hopes of discovering a noble birthright within the fog of his unknown heritage. His travel experiences, however, cast a pall on both the ardor of nobility and his own motives in seeking his own past.

 “Secret? Have you not already guessed? Why my luck’s no greater than yours or any man’s. You need only sharpen your eyes to see your luck when it comes, and sharpen your wits to use what falls into your hands. . . . Trust your luck, Taran Wanderer. But don’t forget to put out your nets!”

~Llonio son of Llonwen, Taran Wanderer

After discarding the original purpose of his travels, Taran wanders aimlessly through Prydain, where he encounters the humble lifestyle of the farmer Llonio and his ample household. Like Will Baxter, Llonio’s view of life isn’t a struggle to assert his existence, erecting towers or creating an honorable legacy. With the assistance of luck and keen observation, Llonio supports his brood through the simple provision of the land—the tidings of a small stream or the detritus strewn about the earth by man and beast. And a meal that begins with a lone egg soon sees a pot overflowing with the loam’s bounty—savory herbs, a handful of flour, milk, cheese, and honeycomb—a feast fit for a family of eight and two guests, not for a meal but for a weekend.

Fed both physically and mentally by his convalescence with the farmer Llonio’s family and regirded for his journey of self-discovery, Taran again tramped through Prydain, this time hobnobbing not with the countryside noblemen but the common folk; the village artisans whose livelihood wasn’t measured in wealth and influence but in the relationships developed through their handiwork. Admiring the passion for their craft, Taran hunts for his self through apprenticeship as a blacksmith, a weaver, and finally a potter. While competent in these crafts, Taran learns that he is also not defined by them but by his experiences, decisions and relationships. Like Renton, Taran realizes the value of the home and family left behind, and returns able to do “all he set his hand to, whatever.”

 “I saw myself. In the time I watched, I saw strength—and frailty. Pride and vanity, courage and fear. Of wisdom, a little. Of folly, much. Of intentions, many good ones; but many more left undone. In this, alas, I saw myself a man like any other. . . . Caer Dallben waits for me, as it has always waited. My life is there, and gladly I return to it.”

~Taran of Caer Dallben, Taran Wanderer

Now, Taran’s lessons served as a foundation not merely for a humble lifestyle but as a stepping stone for a nobler legacy, if beguiled by the mists of time and fiction. But for a twelve-year-old lad raised on epic grandeur the concept of satisfaction in a common life well-lived within the provision of land and company was appealing. The recognition that self-worth wasn’t defined by status or accomplishment was affirming at a time when a child begins to come to grips with life’s social realities. And seeing Will Baxter provide Renton with a similar education—again in preparation for greater responsibility—was a trip down memory lane that not only awakens fond remembrances but also an opportunity to reflect on how my own journey has shaped me since youth—the experiences, the decisions, the relationships—the provisions of the environment and people around me, no matter their humble status.

 And now, dear Readers, I implore you: what tales from your childhood—either sketched in print or illuminated electronically—influenced you, and how have you seen these influences reflected in anime?

“There’s another, unknown me, hiding in my heart.

How far? Until the end.

You’re lost and missing.”

-lyrics from the ED to Moretsu Pirates, “Lost Child”

ajthefourth: There are many enjoyable things in this most recent episode of Moretsu Pirates, beginning with the chuckles to be had at Marika’s Colonel Henry Blake act of signing stuff that she didn’t quite understand, and continuing with full belly-laughs at her over-the-top, charismatic pirate performance complete with a duel to the “death” against Kane. If Marika hadn’t wormed her way into your heart already, she certainly made an even more charming effort in this episode.

Her charm and diligence also make an impression on the crew of the Bentenmaru. Lest one think that Marika was going to simply hop on and take over, it is made abundantly clear from the moment that she steps on board (complete with a “Trainee” patch for her sweatshirt) that she’s in training. Perhaps this was an unexpected development in the audience’s eyes, but it’s actually a solid bit of world-building and character development. The world-building piece comes in when it is finally revealed what “legal piracy” actually is: more stage performance, less rape and pillage. This isn’t to say that Marika won’t have to deal with troublesome or serious situations in her future; however, the vast majority of her pirating missions will probably be more along the lines of her performance on the Princess Apricot.   This, in turn, means that her position is one that she will be allowed to grow into. Yes, Marika will have to be able to think quickly on her feet, act intelligently, and command the respect of her peers, but the crew of the Bentenmaru and the nature of its piracy is such that she is also playing the role of the Pirate Captain for an audience. It’s an interesting dynamic that makes each and every crew member on more of an equal level. I had initially thought that Marika’s ascension to captaincy would be met with derision; however, again, this series has surpassed my expectations by dealing with this situation in a somewhat unique way.

This isn’t to say that Marika was never under scrutiny. It is telling when crew member Schnitzer remarks that, at first, he had suspected that Marika was just going with the flow of things, but was pleased to see that she was beginning to think for herself. Misa has an interesting addendum to this, when she hints that Marika is actually on the edge of a precipice; caught between being an honors’ student and a pirate captain. While out in space, Chiaki tells Marika that once a ship sets sail, it’s up to Marika to construct her own bearings; where the ship is, what’s around it, what other ships are present, etc.

"Then you decide for yourself where you are."

Marika responds to Chiaki with the quote above. In that moment, Marika became recognizable. In that moment, I finally bought in to Marika as a character after just last week admitting that, echoing what Schnitzer said this week, Marika was a weaker character than her supporting cast of classmates. With that one response, Marika finally pulled me onto her side. For a moment, her cheerful, ditzy, and charismatic mask slipped, allowing me to see a glimpse of a different type of intelligence and an introspective nature. She’s not just going with the flow, she’s finally attempting to delve in to the mystery of who she is, and that introspection fascinates me.

vucubcquix: The moment the two future captains donned their armor to participate in more training had them musing about the nature of space travel. Through these discussions we have Marika verbalizing her desires and thoughts regarding the promise and potential of space that we were able to glean from her actions two weeks ago. In a surprisingly existential moment, we have Marika expressing the desire to be able to plot one’s own course through life. She confides in Chiaki that the scale, vastness, and isolation of space was something that surprised her at first, echoing the meaninglessness of predefined absolute direction values. This isn’t something that scared her necessarily, but rather something that excites her to a degree.

This interests Chiaki. Marika’s actions and thoughts fly in the face of Chiaki’s preconceived notions about her character and presumed softness. Not only does Marika possess the fortitude, tenacity, diligence, intelligence, and charisma to be a captain, but the self reflection to think on her actions as well. Schnitzer also comments on this very tidbit. Ironically, this is what frustrates Chiaki immensely about Marika.

I’ve had no problem accepting Marika as a sympathetic and charming character and it even influenced my enjoyment of the show from the outset. However, while I never thought of Chiaki as underdeveloped or uninteresting in any way, there were certain actions and attitudes from this week that really fascinated me. We’ve seen Chiaki slowly warm toward Marika in the past several episodes as she recognizes the future captain’s potential while under fire. Through fortitude and quick thinking, Marika had managed to impress Chiaki into a somewhat grudging respect. What we see now however, is how repelled Chiaki is regarding some of Marika’s character traits.

Imagine Chiaki doing this...

This would be a recognizable trait in other series, and can perhaps describe Chiaki to a certain extent as well, but I wouldn’t hesitate to delve just a little deeper. I actually feel the fuel that fires Chiaki’s ire is one of jealousy, perhaps. The display in the ballroom on the Princess Apricot cements the idea of Marika having a natural affinity toward the theatricality of piracy, recalling the lessons her mother imparted on her in the desert regarding the importance of a person’s image in a conflict out in space. The raid on the Princess Apricot was everything short of a prearranged performance (although the duel pretty much was that), but there was always the possibility that the novelty of encountering a band of pirates wouldn’t be enough to overcome some person’s sense of justice and an actual conflict could have taken place. To nullify this, the duel between Marika and Kane was set up as not only a practical evaluation of Marika’s acting and physical combat abilities, but to also cow the crowd into submission. Chiaki was witness to the event, both for criticism and as a chance to learn, and the surprisingly smooth outcome may have added to the complicated feelings she has for Marika.

Marika is a natural, but it doesn’t prevent her from putting on a somewhat hapless and carefree persona that tends to be the first impression that many people have of her. What frustrates her is that Marika doesn’t seem to have the austerity that Chiaki believes a captain should have in order to be an effective ruler. Marika’s able to achieve what Chiaki believes are some of the core necessities and fundamentals of captaincy, with the sort of breezy confidence that belies a lack of effort or thought being put into it. But we know that there is more to Marika than what meets the eye, and Moretsu has done an admirable job of showing us this through her dialogue and actions. What blinds Chiaki may be her own sense of pride and inability to fully acknowledge someone who puts on “ditzy” airs.

This seems to be a theme nascent in Moretsu Pirates. The ending song, Lost Child, is centered on this idea. There’s another, unknown me hiding in my heart. We see conflict and tension between the outward appearances we’re presented with, and the introspection that comes with examination. This dissonance is paralleled in the isolated space setting, and the tension between being disoriented or emboldened by the lack of direction.

Addendum

• For those interested in watching, the stream is located at crunchyroll and will be available to non-subscribers on Feb 18, 2012.
  

Twitter is an intriguing beast. It is one of the two dominant social networks found on today’s internet, and at its simplest, offers one the ability to broadcast one’s thoughts to other people. Admittedly anywhere on the internet is now wont to do this, however, twitter’s defining trait lies in its limit of 140 characters per post. One could perhaps argue it a social network centred about brevity.

Having such a limitation, presumably it can be dismissed? Not worthy of one’s attention?

Whilst the majority of Twitter could be considered pointless babble, as a platform, it has nevertheless proved an influential medium. Having numerous links to the Arab Spring, for example.

Again, one could argue the internet as a whole, capable of similar, and I would agree. However, twitter’s ‘follower’ format has a certain openness about it that one finds difficult to ignore. Coupled with the seemingly instantaneous means of posting ideas, opinions, and yes, inane babble, in a fluid and concise manner gives the service a degree of attractiveness and influence.

For what reason then, am I blithering on about Twitter?

Ah yes, my point. My reason for writing this is relatively simple, and is centred on a simple question:

How has Twitter changed the ani-sphere and its denizens?

The ani-sphere, which I choose to define as the loose area of the internet primarily concerned with Japanese animation; consisting of a number of blogs, forums, translators, news sites, and irc channels; follows a relatively standard approach across its many genres. When a new episode is released, through murky channels or otherwise, people watch it; then some rush to comment on it; whilst others comment on those comments, and so on. These comments themselves, take a variety of shapes, from philosophical rambles to curious combinations of concatenated consonants.

Now, has Twitter changed this?

No, not particularly; it’s a formula that works, after all.

What exactly has Twitter done, then?

I posit that Twitter has increased interaction within the ani-sphere.

The ani-sphere, as I have come to understand it, is not a single community, but rather a loose coalition of warring genres. Whilst each follow approximately the same methodology, and speak the same language; they are interested in slightly different programs, topics, and ideas. Today, blogs, perhaps more so than forums, allow one to offer a stream of thoughts on one’s chosen subject. If successful, one can achieve a reasonably sized audience to which one may preach; some of whom, may comment on, or discuss matters further.

But there exists a plethora of blogs, and so competition for readership and influence is inevitable. Blogs and their authors which find themselves similarly aligned, or within the same clique, might follow their comrades and competitors both. Following this, and being the proactive, extroverted kind of chaps that bloggers tend to be, I think it not implausible to suggest it likely that they will end up commenting on each other’s blogs. Indeed, this does appear to happen.

Again, where does Twitter come in?

Twitter, I should like to suggest, is a similar, but less formal, affair. It too, is a stream of consciousness, and as such one is able to tweet whatever one so wishes. It is eminently possible, therefore, for one to offer short and quickly realised commentary on a series or topic. This might be of a serious vein; alternatively, it may tend towards irreverence. Yet with this reduction of formality, one finds a greater sense of interaction between users possible; from a quick bout of banter between friends, to conversations mimicking those found in comments and forums of old. Coupled with that of the open ‘follower’ style, where one may select whom they wish to follow at the click of a button, and indeed unfollow with the same ease; the high walls separating the various communities within the ani-sphere suddenly begin to find their foundations much looser than before.

Through connections on Twitter, one need not necessarily read others’ extended treatise found on their respective blogs; nor is it impossible that one might find new blogs of interest amongst the ‘Twitter-sphere’. With an increased degree of informal communications between bloggers, commenters, and the occasional ‘lurker’ thrown in for good measure, we begin to see an increased level of communication and collaboration.

Not only this, but over the past few months, perhaps one has noticed an increase in the number of guest posts? An increase in duets, or as is apparently le mot du jour; colloquia?

Thus far, we have found that Twitter has assisted in furthering collaborative commentary; a pooling of ideas; and a certain degree of advertisement for one’s own internet abode. Yet, what of the central activity that ties the ani-sphere together? That of actually watching anime: has Twitter influenced this in anyway?

Here I introduce The Standing Committee for the Coordination of Simultaneous Anime Viewing; a collection of, primarily, bloggers from Twitter who come together to watch anime. Born of a suggestion from Twitter, and making use of Skype, the SCCSAV, as it is more laconically known, has grown to include a sizeable number of people; each with their own tastes, philosophies, and styles; inviting commentary and discussion on the programs they chose to watch with it. In effect, this has helped to provide a bridge, upon which even the more discrete communities may meet.

Can we consider Twitter to be an influential force within the ani-sphere?

With the above points alone, I would argue one can.

There are, however, other questions whose answers may contribute. The first, and perhaps most apparent, being: why Twitter? One might ask as to the affect Twitter has had on the influence of individuals within the ani-sphere. Further still, one may ask whether this is limited solely to the ani-sphere, or whether it common within other areas of interest: music, film, or sport, for example.

Twitter appears to have made the ani-sphere a more collaborative and social place, yet it is apparent we have only just scratched the surface of why this is: there is much yet to explore.

The Gundam franchise is an excellent source for strong male characters and it’s no accident so many of them are fathers or surrogate fathers. Even if we’re unaware of it, as men, most things we do in life are measured and compared against the lives of our fathers if only by ourselves. As I looked at the two current flagship shows of Gundam, AGE & Unicorn, I see two very different perspectives on the same idea. Spoilers ahead!

In Unicorn, the father/son relationship is arguably the defining theme. Cardeas Vist is estranged from his illegitimate son Banagher but has been watching over him from afar, providing him a place in the world to call his own. When they finally meet again he performs an act of kindness disguised as cruelty, threatening to remove that place in an attempt to disentangle his son from the Sleeves and the Zabi princess. Being more worldly than the boy trying to force out a hasty confession, she aids Cardeas by shutting Banagher down hard. This is the toughest role a dad must play, to be harsh and uncompromising because he sees further than his child. But when all has fallen apart it’s not the traitorous legitimate son Alberto that receives the father’s legacy but Banagher, who has now seen his dad’s true intent. It’s after his death that Cardeas’s role as father the protector is made most clear, because instead of giving in to rage, despair, and loss, Banagher’s first act upon being anointed in his blood and taking up his father’s mantle is to force the fight outside the colony, defending countless innocents just as he believes his father would have wanted.

From this point on Banagher meets several men that can be taken as father figures, each filling a specific role from Full Frontal as the false father, to Captain Otto Midas as the wise counselor. But the two most interesting of these relationships are with Daguza Mackle and Suberoa Zinnerman due to their adversarial nature. Daguza and Banagher spend most of their time together clashing over differing ideas of honor. However, Daguza never sees Banagher as a tool and does another thing that is extremely difficult for a father figure: admits, even if indirectly, he was wrong. This leads to their reconciliation tragically just moments before Daguza’s death at the hands of Full Frontal. Daguza’s death causes Banagher to lose control, killing Gilboa, a man he knows. This takes a good father from Tikava, a boy not much younger than himself. It’s this act that presages Banagher’s figurative and literal fall from grace as he plunges to earth and into the hands of the second of these complex men, Captain Zinnerman.

Zinnerman helps a broken boy put himself back together at his lowest moment with the rough and threadbare love of a father who has lost everything. In return, Banagher saves Suberoa’s heart from falling into darkness and losing himself to vengeance at the battle of Torrington. Sometimes a son’s role is to fight their father when they are wrong. We spend so much time trying to catch up to our dad’s backs that we forget that they are fallible men as well. I don’t believe we become men until we have learned to stand up to our fathers when we must, and still love them as we fight, just as they do for us. Fists, sometimes, are a man’s romance.

In the side characters we’re given two men that are mirror images of one another: a bad man with a good father, Alberto Vist; and Riddhe Marcenas, a good young man with a morally compromised father. Alberto Vist becomes visibly more uncomfortable with the repercussions of his and his colleagues’ actions as the show goes on. It’s subtle, but at several points you can almost hear him thinking: “I was raised better than this.” And then Riddhe Marcenas, that moral and ethical failure on his father’s part steadily colors the son’s actions as the series goes on. From the simple entitlement he displays by stealing the Delta Plus and trying to make himself seem important, to murder on the battlefield to avoid being seen as “naive”.

In contrast to Unicorn’s complex view of male relationships, AGE presents a simpler view as befits its younger target audience, but there are a few things worth noting. Flit’s adoptive father, Mr. Bruzar, tells him as soon as they first meet that he isn’t taking him in out of pity but to see the Asuno talent at mobile suit engineering. The only moments of bonding we see between them before Bruzar’s self sacrifice are during the construction of the AGE-1. Then there’s Grodek Ainoa who makes no secret of the fact that he is using Flit as a tool to enact his revenge against the UE. When he has gotten it, he turns himself over for his prison sentence leaving the temporary family he made aboard the Diva to fend for themselves.

These examples combined with Flit’s marriage to a woman he loves but was not in love with, goes some way toward explaining his actions at the start of Asemu’s story. The only way Flit knows how to be a dad is not to be there.

I think it’s no accident that the more mature of these two works paints a more complex, and frankly sentimental, view of fatherhood and male relationships in general. As we get older, many of our friendships with other men fall by the wayside and our dads’ influence in our lives diminishes or passes out of reckoning altogether. When that happens, we have a yearning to regain the safety and companionship those relationships once offered. But for a young man, a father’s motivations are often seen as mysterious and inscrutable if not outright in the way of making their choices. And that is a good impulse as well, it encourages us to grow and expand our horizons beyond what childhood offers.

Both shows crouch the idea of fatherhood as being inextricably bound up with sacrifice, which may be true to a degree, but it’s not a sacrifice without recompense. Every child will remember their father, for good or ill, as a hero or villain on par with the great figures of their times. What else is immortality?

"Mom, I'll do it. I'll be captain."

ajthefourth: The moment above wouldn’t have been nearly as effective as it was, had Moretsu Pirates not taken its time to quietly build itself up to this point. With such false starts as the first electronic warfare battle (the repercussions of which come back to haunt the girls slightly in this episode) and Marika discovering the “ghost ship” in the previous episode, Pirates has been teasing the viewer with the promise of a conflict purposely. It also has been building Marika’s character slowly, with the added promise of her decision weighing upon the viewers’ minds. One couldn’t be blamed if they had come to never expect to see Marika in a pirates’ uniform prior to the series’ conclusion.

This purposeful buildup is also evident in Episode Five within the microcosm of the impending battle between the Odette II and the “ghost ship.” The beginning of this battle was no less interesting for being fought entirely through electronic warfare; however, it too lulls the viewer into a false sense of security. Much like one couldn’t be blamed if they never expected to see Marika as a pirate, one also couldn’t be blamed for being slightly startled when the ship is fired on for the first time. The girls of the yacht club not only act surprised, but legitimately shocked that a physical battle is taking place. This speaks to their naivete, and also to the fact that they never expected the battle to go beyond the electronic realm. Technology takes center stage in the world of Pirates, and this is reiterated again by Jenny Dolittle’s incredulous, nearly disgusted, reaction to the Lightning 11 having the nerve to use their eyes for targeting as opposed to infrared sensors. With every little piece of characterization like this, Moretsu Pirates is taking its time in not only world building, but making the inevitable payoff of its characters’ actions that much more believable and nuanced.

"Their eyes?!"

vucubcaquix: The narration at the beginning of each episode does a wonderful job of not only setting the tone of the proceeding, but framing the progress that we see. As Ryan notes, the most fascinating statement was the notion of ship’s transponder representing human will and goals. It’s a stand and statement against the indifference of the cosmic setting in which sailors find themselves, its honesty offering context and solace to those who venture out.

The interesting parallel to this, is that this is also the episode in which Marika unequivocally makes known her own will and goals. Having acquainted herself with the particulars of space flight and encountered her first real conflict, the story show us her blooming fully under pressure. There’s recognition of the situation in a real-time context, and an ability to be malleable with the situation. Marika shows a tenacity and creativity that permeates through her core.

From the beginning, we’ve seen glimpses and promises of Marika’s potential, while being shown outright as well that she hasn’t made a solid decision with consequence on her own. She’s been reacting to the events that have been occurring before her: looking into her parents’ history, learning to fire weapons, going on a cruise with her club mates. She’s been bounced around and educated by several different female characters, and strong ones at that. I think this has given the illusion of Marika being rather inconsequential in the face of such fantastically layered characters such as her mother Ririka, her classmate Chiaki Kurihara, or the Yacht Club President Jenny Dolittle. But given the talent behind the writing displayed thus far, and the deftness of the adaptation, I feel that it’s no mistake that the deliberate nature of the show extended to characterization as well.

Transponders are the representation of human will and goals. Here, after reacting to everything around her thus far, we see Marika expressing her will on her own. Coming to that decision was aided and colored by the strong personalities of the women around her, including the remarkable Jenny Dolittle.

"As the idiot president of the yacht club, maybe I should send a half-awake answer?"

“From: Captain of the Odette II…no…President of the Hakuoh Girls’ Academy Yacht Club, Jenny Dolittle.

To: Captain of the Lightning 11.

Body: Fools!

That is all.

Subject: Fools!

Want me to say it again?”

-Jenny Dolittle, Captain of the Odette II

ajthefourth: Far more fascinating than our leading lady, Marika, is the yacht club president, Jenny Dolittle. Moretsu Pirates is seemingly a series with a large cast of characters to introduce to the viewer, as well as a fair amount of in-universe history and terms that it must acquaint its audience with. The series, thus far, has done an admirable job at introducing its cast to us, piece by piece. Personally, I’ve found myself caring about each and every one of the periphery characters just as much, if not more so, than Marika herself (which also, up until now, has been a bit of a detriment to this series: Marika is one of the least interesting characters). None have interested me more than Jenny Dolittle.

Although there had been glimpses of her in prior episodes, Jenny was mainly introduced to the viewer last week, when it was learned that she had properly done her homework on Marika, and was well aware of just exactly whose daughter Marika was, as well as the decision that had been placed in front of her. Jenny’s response of “I thought you might.” to Marika requesting to speak to the crew of the Odette II is one of my personal favorite moments in the series, and where she is shown to be someone who is never to be taken lightly. This is a crucial character-building moment between Jenny and the viewer; it is subtle, but quietly brilliant.

Her response to Marika indicates her diligence and serious nature; Jenny researched Marika enough to know exactly who she is. This also speaks to having a bit of a compassionate nature, as she let Marika go on this cruise in spite of knowing the danger that would be involved in allowing her to do so. Perhaps Jenny didn’t want to take the feeling of her first space flight away from Marika.

"So they've even provided a villian for our high school girls' cruise."

Another facet of Jenny’s character that is explored in Episode Four, and expanded on in Episode Five, is a witty and spiteful nature when she feels as if she is not being taken seriously. The quote above is from Episode Four, immediately before Marika properly introduces herself to the yacht club and makes them all aware of the danger that they are now in. She says this callously, in a way that makes the rest of her crew laugh, but a serious undertone is present. After all, what are they in most other people’s minds but silly, airheaded, high school girls playing at space? Coupled with the response that she gives to the Lightning II, her extreme displeasure at others’ refusal to take her seriously is palpable. It indicates a past history of being written off as a joke, or a silly high school girl, which makes the audience want to know more about her.

It is also this facet of Jenny’s character that Marika should try to emulate above all others. Diligence, perseverance, the ability to think quickly on her feet; these are all things that we’ve seen hints of in Marika already. It is for those reasons that Kane claims Marika will be a force to reckon with once trained properly. However, there’s something that Kane can’t teach her and something that Jenny Dolittle can: the ability to be tempered, yet ferocious, in the face of people who dismiss her. This ability, which will force people into shame that they did not take you seriously in the first place, denotes a hunger to prove oneself, even when it’s coated with a veneer of grace and sophistication, as it is within Jenny’s character. I have yet to see this hunger from Marika. Marika may have saved the day, and also may have made her decision; however, I certainly hope this doesn’t mean less of Jenny Dolittle.

vucubcaquix: The arc of the battle itself was handled wonderfully as well. The scene building up to it had the girls assembling with each other and heading toward the bridge in silence, with the celtic notes playing in the background underscoring a growing sense of excitement. The girls showing visible delight at seeing their predictions for how the conflict playing out coming true, and while barely containing themselves, sticking to the plan that Marika took pains to assemble and verbalizing step by step the rationale for their actions. There was no cut to the enemy bridge since not only would it have broken the flow of the advancement of the scene, but could have possibly leaned on suspension of disbelief since playing possum also meant deigning not to see or understand what your enemy is doing. Like everything else in the show, everything was deliberate, measured, patient.

The girls let loose to the Lightning 11 that the jig is up and they knew they were coming (itself, a nice reference to Star Blazers), and for a brief moment, silence again. And then… pandemonium.

spring has come and gone and summer is here

The music picks up, the camera cuts quicker, the dialogue hastens.

they say in summer, we hang our white robes on Heavenly Kagu Mountain

The sparring continues in earnest, the two entities trading electronic blows.

you swore to love me forever, but I don’t know if I can believe you

The Lightning 11 continues its assault redoubling its effort at jamming, but the Odette II just outclasses it.

we parted this morning, my heart disordered, as I pondered

The girls tense up, but no one relents.

the Odette II pushes forward, through the blue

The enemy doubles back, but the Odette II carries through.

like the scent of a blooming flower

The girls break through, and have access to the Lightning 11.

mountain cherry tree, love me as I love you

The enemies’ systems fall one by one.

because I’m alone in the depths of the mountain and there’s no one here but you

And then once again, silence.

There is palpable tension in the bridge as the girls did not plan for this particular eventuality. There’s a moment of fleeting bewilderment. What is the enemy doing? What are they thinking? Were their achievements for naught? What do they do now?

And then, everything turns blood red. The alarms blare and the systems report to the girls in uncompromising language EMERGENCY!! ENERGY WAVE, and the threat of death through aggression looms large for the first time in the series. The fun and excitement of the preceding is sapped away in an instant when everyone realizes that their lives are in very real danger indeed. The enemy no longer seeks to capture the girls, but as some sort of recompense for making fools of them, now seek to kill. The masks that Kane MacDougal and Misa Grandwood have worn now slip, and the cool veneer of the more capable girls begins to crack. There’s even a slight sense of anger and resentment at this possible breach in combat protocol, as Jenny Dolittle is just completely unbelieving that the enemy would resort to something so crude as optical sighting.

In their newly compromised position, the girls nearly make a fatal error in running. This is where the promise of the first few episodes was fulfilled, as we see Marika step up and prevent the girls from blundering and was able to think something up on the fly. This is where the diligence she displayed previously works to her advantage, as the minutiae she spouted regarding the use and utility of transponders and the laws that govern them set up and foreshadowed Marika’s ability to be able to know even the minutest details of the workings of the Odette II. She commandeers a classmate’s station for a moment, changes the permeability of the sails, does some quick mathematic triangulation (that was SO sexy), and fashions a quick Archimedes Mirror to prevent the enemy from using their last means to threaten.

And just like that, all is still once again. But no longer is there the tension that accompanied the last pauses, but rather a sense of relief mingled with triumph as the Lightning 11 is finally checkmated by the technological superiority of the Odette II, and the combat superiority of both the Bentenmaru and the Barbalusa (come on, that’s totally supposed to be Barbarossa), and the numbers of the Stellar Military. What we are treated to is a cathartic thumping of the barbarians who dared to attack a group of schoolgirls from behind, and the reward of the satisfaction of seeing a girl whose promise has been realized for all to see.

The icing was seeing Chiaki triumphantly declare herself the daughter of Kenjo Kurihara, captain of the pirate ship Barbalusa, and heir apparent to her Letter of Marque. It’s a capstone to the end of the introductory training of Marika, and a further hint at the vastness of the world ahead. To be able to deceive the other characters, including Jenny Dolittle, into thinking that she’s just another student (even one with circumstances) begets a cunning and guile that highlights the human touch that Moretsu Pirates has been touting since the beginning even amongst the fetishistic display and detailing of technology.

There is a heart on display here in this show. Everything has been measured, thoughtful, deliberate, all for the express purpose of letting Marika shine here in the moment she needed to and to do so believably. She has the human touch to effectively wield the technology and the responsibility that’s being foisted upon her, and she has the fortitude to see it to the end. She has been lied to, encouraged, taught, tested, and she comes through on the other side fully bloomed. This is the promise we’ve been given since the first episode, and I’m excited to see it being fulfilled.

Addendum

• For those interested in watching, the stream is located at crunchyroll and will be available to non-subscribers on Feb 11, 2012 .

A curious thing happens when you’re in outer space, when the context of terra firma is taken from you. You realize that phrases like “left” and “right” are suddenly a lot less valuable than they once were, as the meanings ascribed to them conflict from person to person.

In space, there is no absolute direction.

The narration at the beginning of the episode was immediately interesting in that not only are we given a description of a phenomenon that occurs when in outer space, but it can be taken as a parallel metaphor for the growth and state of Marika’s character. The circumstances that have come to define her position in life currently, would be overwhelming to anyone. Her mother has not been honest with her, her father was a pirate, and she is on the verge of becoming the captain of her deceased father’s ship. The premises of her understanding of her relationships have been subverted by new revelations, but she is not disoriented. She understands where she comes from, and I feel that she understands where she’s going as well (despite her own protestations). Knowing that, means knowing your position relative to those two states.

Marika was (and is) a school girl. She will be a pirate captain, if her own nature is any indication. But she isn’t yet. Thus, she is on that path and learning what it means to be responsible enough to wield the respect to command those around her. Despite the turbulence and shakiness of her current situation, she has direction and purpose. These are what inform her actions, preventing her from becoming overwhelmed by any of this at any given time.

It’s what allowed her to take the decisive action necessary to employ the ship’s radar systems to find out about their pursuers. It’s what allowed her to further move forward and admit to the Yacht Club captain, Jenny Doolittle, about her life’s circumstances. It’s what allowed her to reflect on her mother’s teachings in the desert when Jenny Doolittle asked her what the Odette II should do. The pan over her companions was all the time she needed to think over what their course of action would be.

Her decision to defend the ship with the help of the girls and without the aid of adults struck me first as being a bit rash. But what the show is communicating is that her mother Ririka was correct. Marika already possesses the confidence and assertiveness to make decisions and assume the responsibilities of those around her. There is brashness in her word and deed here, but I don’t know if I can go so far as to call it recklessness. There’s a natural charisma that emanates from her when she speaks of the good of the Yacht Club, and she’s deft and clear enough in her use of words to inspire the passions and elicit the loyalties of those who hear her. Through convincing all that their goal is shared, and expressing unwavering confidence in the abilities of all present, Marika kindles the resolve within the girls to organize and fight back. Through her words, she recognizes fully well that she’s pulling the trigger of a larger consequence than just herself.

But neither does she delegate all duty and responsibility onto others once they’ve signed on to follow her. In a bit more of the brashness the roughens the edges of the core of Marika’s character, she lies awake through her entire sleep shift thinking up stratagems and tactics for the upcoming conflict. Admirable in her enthusiasm, she nevertheless risks her health somewhat in the hopes of devising a plan that would ensure the success of the Odette II.

The plan she does devise is summarily explained for both the benefit of crew and audience, and we are told that despite its amateurishness, it is indeed sound and impressive for a first attempt. Kane MacDougal and Misa Grandwood stand sentinel over the proceedings and act as tethers to the albatross Bentenmaru, and feign ignorance over the proceedings. There’s fantastic duality in that as well since Kane’s expressed reason for non-interference is dependent on his role as teacher and adviser to the Yacht Club, which in my mind he does to protect the pride of the girls on board. This with the scene last week where he brushed off Ms. Grandwood’s teasing in order to type up a grading rubric paints a picture of a man of integrity who is extremely diligent and thorough, seeing through his decisions to the end.

Kane is a portrait of a man who knows what he values, and seems to know the arc of the direction of the purpose of his life. He is helmsman of the Bentenmaru, but also its herald. He knows who he is and where he comes from, but he also knows the where he must go and what he must do. And the direction that he has oriented himself toward relative to those two points in his life, is Marika.

Marika stresses that she has made no decision regarding her acceptance of the captaincy, and I feel that a parallel can be drawn between the absolute direction of a decision being forced upon you, and the relative direction of you coming to and making that decision on your own. In space, one can be overwhelmed by the profundity of the possibility before you, but to come to confront that on your own terms is to know your position and where you stand at all times.

Addendum

• For those interested in watching, the stream is located at crunchyroll and will be available to non-subscribers on Feb 4, 2012.

How familiar is the modern foreign anime fan with Japan as a place? From the bustling streets of the mecca of moé, Akihabara, to the temples of historical Kyoto, some parts of Japan are well-trodden backdrops. Watch enough anime, and a viewer will have no trouble recognizing the sight of… well, the Tokyo Big Sight, or the familiar red torii that mark the entrances of shrines across Japan. However, there are many parts of Japan that fall into the fringe, and subsequently get little coverage in popular media.

For example, there’s Okinawa: a prefecture to the south of Fukuoka made up of hundreds of tiny islands. Historically a part of the Ryukyu Kingdom, it wasn’t even considered a part of Japan until the 19th century. Many factors, including Okinawa’s location and the Ryukyuan influence on its culture and dialect, make Okinawan life a far cry from what most people would consider quintessentially “Japanese.”  This means, unfortunately, that you won’t find reference to Okinawan culture in most anime.

Well, there's this show, but I'm pretty sure I'm one of five people outside of the Okinawa area who actually watched this.

This is where Asobi ni Iku yo! (Cat Planet Cuties) comes in. Although it’s easy to see the Western references, it’s also a show with a very strong Okinawan flavor. From local dishes to A&W restaurants (which don’t exist in Japan outside of Okinawa and American military bases), Asobi rewards the keen viewer with many insights into life on this island. Some references to Okinawan culture, however, are a bit less obvious…

"I watched this show for its fascinating look into Okinawan culture"

Take the assistaroids, who act as robotic helpers for menial tasks and serve as comedic relief. Curiously enough, none of the humans in the series seem to be very surprised to see these brightly colored robots walking about. Of course, this is a show in which a lot of suspension of disbelief is asked of the viewer, but there’s another, more satisfying explanation.

Enter the kijimuna: this legendary creature is exclusive to Ryukyuan folklore, and is said to inhabit particularly old trees. These mischievous spirits are usually described as resembling small boys, with a mop of wild, red hair.

Well, they look much less like those awful troll dolls than the kijimuna usually do, but...

I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say that the assistaroids are influenced by the legend of the kijimuna. After all, the kijimuna are a familiar icon to this day in Okinawa, adorning signs and even having an annual children’s festival named after them. With the assistaroids, Asobi ni Iku yo! cleverly marries local mythology with modern character design, giving new life to these traditional creatures of whimsy and in turn illuminating today’s audience to a part of Okinawa’s rich history.

And much like with legends of “hidden folk” in Iceland, there are those in Okinawa even today who believe that the pure of heart, if they happen to look at the right place at the right time, might just happen upon something… magical.