source: ミサ

Throughout our lives we are constantly reinventing ourselves. It’s human nature to evaluate what works and adjust accordingly. This is no easy task, and we are all fallible creatures, so we make mistakes. This is the story of Hentai Ouji to Warawanai Neko, or HenNeko, and it is our story as well.

Imperfection

HenNeko features deeply flawed characters. The protagonist, Youto, is a pervert whose objectification of women is his primary driving force. His only obstacle is the hard-nosed perfectionist track team captain, who has misidentified his lame attempts to cover his lechery as hard work and dedication. He soon meets a younger girl who lacks the self-control expected of her by society. The cast is finalized by the addition of an attention-seeking girl whose concern for appearance is so great that she sacrifices all else to maintain hers.

Youto realizes that his attitude towards women is not socially acceptable. He puts up a facade of being a normal boy. It’s difficult to go against one’s nature, but he feels trapped in the very front he’s built for himself.

Chances are that you know your imperfections intimately. Humans have adapted to be risk averse and to focus on imperfections. This allows us to identify threats and personal shortcomings. Thus when we notice our own flaws we are quick to blame. Worse, we are also often quick to judge even though we may be ill-equipped to do so.

Inevitable Missteps

Youto mistakes his problem of lechery and misogyny with one of honesty. He wishes to be more honest about his feelings, so that he might escape the consequences of his actions. He casts these wishes at a local cat shrine, rumored to have the power to help him. Instead, he finds that his problems have multiplied. By solving the wrong problem he fails to escape his responsibilities and also becomes a complete social pariah.  His compatriots all make similar mistakes. This is a story of taking the easy way out and the hard way back.

We are all guilty of such errors. It’s part of the learning process; one that continues throughout our lives. For children, especially in the formative pubescent years, these mistakes come frequently. Those are trial runs for the mistakes we will make later in life. Mistakes in our education, careers, relationships, loves… Even in blogging we make mistakes.

source: キンタ＠お仕事募集中

Reactions

Youto’s reaction to his predicament after the botched wish lends itself to greater empathy than his original problem. Through circumstance he has joined forces with others who wish to change. He claims that his goal is selfish, but actions speak louder than words. His actions show a somewhat complex character whose intentions are far more altruistic, as he often puts the feelings of others ahead of his own.

If the mistakes are the setup, then the interest lay in the reaction. Thus far, the reaction in HenNeko has been to forge new bonds of mutual interest, and to attempt to undo their mistakes without hurting any others. Forging new bonds is great. This is one of the best ways to benefit from a bad situation. However, the attempt to undo their mistakes shows very little character growth. It’s true that they now know of the consequences of their actions, but true growth would be to think of the mistakes made and attempt not to repeat them. Subsequent wishes to the cat shrine show a willful disregard for the circumstances that got them into this mess. Yet we must remember that these are children, and not every lesson can be learned the first time.

When our choices let us down we are judged most by our reactions. I’m reminded of the axiom of customer service that a mistake can cost you a customer, but a proper response can earn you five. Mistakes are opportunities, and we can make the most of these opportunities by treating them as such. A perfect dining experience might leave an impression, but a ruined dining experience will leave a bigger one. (Remember that we are primed to notice the negative and then avoid it.) Should a mistake ruin the experience, the management has an opportunity to show compassion and perhaps make the rest of the evening special. This is forging new bonds, but it is not an undoing of a mistake.

Thus we continue on, imperfectly. Our hope is that we will learn from our mistakes and that we will benefit from our learning. Here. In our lives. And maybe even in HenNeko.

I like Aku no Hana. I think it’s good*.

That asterisk is what you’ve come here to read about, isn’t it?

Our immediate reaction to pressing ‘Play’ is a question: are we watching an anime? We establish with our first shot, which provides us with a view of power lines and green hills. So far, so good. Birds chirp, the music swells; and yet, the artificial and high-pitched “anime voice” is nowhere to be found. Where is it, along with the voiceover narration? It’s just then that we cut, and to this:

What is that? We know that it’s human, but is it anime? It shambles forward. You recoil, but submit yourself to watching. You start skipping ahead to see if this isn’t some cruel joke. You close your media player. Whatever you do, you follow it up by making a comment on the public forum of your choice.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the strange world of rotoscoping.

We recall that rotoscoping is a technique of animation whereby an animator traces over a recording of something’s movement in real life. This may be a person, or an object. The actual tracing can be accomplished in a number of ways — tracing over a magnified strip of film, tracing from the film itself, digitally tracing, allowing programs to run traces,^[1] et cetera. This technique is rare to encounter in Japanese animation; the last significant and excellent uses of it were in 2009′s Trapeze or the concert scene from Sakamichi no Apollon.^[2] Now Aku no Hana has brought this technique to the forefront of discussion.

Wager a guess as to why?

What I found in Aku no Hana were two things I rarely feel watching anime, and never together: fear and disgust. For the longest time, we hear nothing but footsteps and piano as we watch our protagonist walk his way to school. Unconventional camera angles, the uncanny physical features of the characters, and extended close-ups strain the atmosphere. Carefully placed sounds and music push eeriness into dread. We can’t help but feel disgust at the characters — so close to being human, but monstrosities in their physical shortcomings. The poor technical quality of animation actually helps in this regard. They even try and sound like humans. One of these monsters has the gall to declare intellectual superiority over his fellow beasts, simply for his choice in literature. Disgusting.^[3] We’ve stepped fully into the uncanny valley. 

I loved every second of both episode one and two. A beautifully subdued, naturally conveyed unnatural museum of base creatures not too different from us. Unexpectedly ominous.

I stand by the artistic decision to rotoscope. What I do not support, however, is how poorly the rotoscoping was executed. It shows a distinct lack of experience and laziness in the use of the technique. This post hopes to explain exactly where and why the show’s animation fails on a technical level. This will revolve around a technical examination of the principles of motion in animation.

Let’s address the question of frame rates. Contrary to the common misconception, every anime television show in recent memory has been shot in the digital standard of 24 frames per second (FPS). The only difference is in how those frames are used. Anime, given their limited budgets, tend to be animated on threes whenever possible. This means that each image is used three times consecutively every second, or that the image changes on every third frame. This produces an effective 8 frames per second.

This may seem to be an exercise in semantics, but this distinction is of phenomenal importance. If anime were truly shot in 8FPS, then fast motion would be almost impossible to portray. A car moving quickly against a road would appear to stutter.^[4] It’s because anime is shot in 24FPS that animators can switch between animation on threes, twos, and ones depending on intended movement. Threes are most often used for still scenes or cuts with little movement, such as plain dialogue; twos are used for moderate movement to fast movement; and ones, while extremely rare, are generally used for key cuts and movements requiring a great deal of fluidity. There are other, more artistic, uses of these varying ‘speeds’ of animation, but those are for another time.

Now, the question of artistic intent. I wrote a while back on the nature of the ‘camera’ in animation.  Application of the anicamera lens does not reveal much. Largely so because the rotoscoping is almost certainly done via a computer program.^[5] This makes a judgment of the animation based on the inclusiveness of the frame unproductive. For example, take a look at this sequence. Can we, in good faith, say that the effect of the faceless individuals in the background are the results of good rotoscoping? Considering that facial features pop in at arbitrary distances, and that the popping-in may simply be an unintentional effect of the shader settings employed, may simply be nothing more than the product of sloppy and lazy work. 

With some of this tangential information and observation out of the way, we can begin talking about the actual failure of Aku no Hana: the animation.

A point of notice about animated bodies is that they do not move unless they are willed (and drawn) to move. This is why having something animated on threes is an effective technique for anime: because movement can be dictated to fluidly coincide with frames. Remember: all things in the frame are intentionally created and intentionally manipulated.

The movement of living human beings isn’t nearly as simple. As still as one may believe they are, there’s likely a tiny portion of the body — a finger, a foot, a cheek, a shoulder — in motion. When human beings move, especially with clothes on, a large number of movements take place. For example, if one raises his/her arm while wearing a shirt: muscles on the neck and shoulder activate, the shoulder hem of the shirt crumples, the side of the shirt rises, and shoulder levels change. All of this happens smoothly. Aku no Hana‘s animation chooses not to take all this into account, instead opting to persistently animate on threes. The rotoscoping exacerbates this problem: our minds expect to see those secondary effects. This saves money, but results in a choppy and poor quality of animation as we skip the delicate motions in-between:

source: http://waversclassmate.tumblr.com/

source: http://frolic-chronis.tumblr.com/

Had more effort been put into the rotoscoping, it would be possible to present a cleaner animation. In the case of the minutiae of movement required of speech, the results are interesting, on that border between recognizable and alien:

source: http://0zu.tumblr.com/

We do see tiny glimpses of hope, however. When we perceive motion, we do not see it in perfect frames. For example, quickly swipe your hand in front of your face. You know that’s your hand, but did you see your hand or a blur? Likely the latter. This blur compensates for the fact that we cannot capture motion perfectly. Animators can manually adjust for this (if animating on a slow count) by utilizing techniques like smears:

Notice the microphone.

Obviously, this technique would not suit the atmosphere Aku no Hana is striving for. It has a set of alternatives, the most suitable of which is motion blur. In fact, the show does utilize the technique; in the second gif above; when the mother offers seconds, around the ten minute mark in the first episode; and when Kasuga stuffs the gym clothes into his shirt in the second episode. Sadly, these moments are sparse, inconsistent (some high movement parts don’t use it), and most likely unintentional. Yet, regardless of their frequency or intention, they’re effective. The frames still stutter and skip, but it gets slightly creeper, as it becomes slightly more relatable.^[6]

What we’re left with is a strange creature. On the one hand a tense, atmospheric work with moments of excellence that has so far proven rewarding, and on the other, the product of a wide array of seeming technical incompetence.

Are these so-called failures lazy? Do they end up enhancing the work? To both of these questions, I say, “absolutely.”

——notes and further readings——–

nil has written a post on Aku no Hana’s rotoscope. I highly suggest reading it, here.

1. [^] my guess would be that the recording was subjected to computer rotoscoping. Manually traced rotoscoping tends to produce a lot less movement (most minute movements are adjusted for) and more detail.

2. [^] in Western animation, rotoscoping is not as rare. Many of Disney’s animated features used rotoscoping extensively. There’s a rotoscoped feature-length movie titled A Scanner Darkly that I encourage everyone to watch. Waltz with Bashir takes the effect of rotoscoped animation, and expands upon it using a completely separate technique. These succeed where Aku no Hana does not because of various artistic choices made in their implementation. Also, I’m not sure if I’d say the Sakamichi no Apollon sequence was completely rotoscoped. It was most likely partially rotoscoped.

3. [^] don’t lie. You’ve done this before, probably sometime during high school. You probably hate that period of your life. While this is generally detestable regardless of rotoscoping, rotoscoping brings the animation that much closer to us, and such behavior becomes that much more identifiable. This is a master stroke on the show’s part. If you still do it now, well, shame on you. By the way, the authors I used to justify my horrible faux-intellectualism were William Faulkner and Vladmir Nabokov.

4. [^] a possible trick is elongating certain portions of the track the car is racing upon, to produce the illusion of constant speed.

5. [^] refer to note 1. above

6. [^] I don’t have gifs for these, sadly. People seem to be intent on picking out the worst examples of bad animation from the show.

EDIT1 (2013/04/16): clarified the wording on the paragraph about animation on threes, after recognizing how misleading some of the statements were. Included a link to nil’s post on the topic.

EDIT2 (2013/04/19): changed one of the links in “Contrary to common misconception”.

art by ajthefourth

“I don’t want to change. I want to change. We all hold in our hearts conflicting feelings, each back to back.”

-Dera Mochimazzi, Tamako Market, Episode 11

We all have strong feelings that often go unexpressed, right? Meandering from week to week, Tamako Market wonderfully extracts these emotions from its audience, as characters begin to feel better about loving whom they want, remember chuunibyou confessions, and are able to make friends for the first time. Throughout this, the focal point is Tamako Kitashirakawa, a happy-go-lucky girl seemingly obsessed with mochi and a deep devotion to her town: the Usagiyama Shopping District.

At the end of Episode 11, Tamako is called upon to make a choice: leave the shopping district, or stay. This leads us to ask ourselves, just how well do we know Tamako Kitashirakawa?

It’s a trick question. We know her well from her actions in the series; however, unlike many other protagonists, we are not privy to her innermost thoughts.

For comparison, Tsuritama does an amazing job from its first episode establishing the the exact thought process of protagonist Yuki Sanada, using specific visuals and audio to reiterate a point. More often than not, as it is with Yuki, we are allowed to pry into the lead character’s head through narration, whether an ongoing stream of consciousness or post-series retrospective, but this is not the case with Tamako.

“Why is everyone acting like this? Do they want me to leave that badly?”

-Tamako Kitashirakawa, Tamako Market, Episode 11

Episode 11 of Tamako Market brings Tamako’s thoughts to the forefront for the first time in the series, with this little outburst quoted above. Prior to this, Tamako had always been fairly passive, well-loved, and overall good person. In addition to Tamako’s obvious charms as a character, we had grown to know and love her through her interactions with others, and their expressing opinions or memories of her. Tamako was someone whom others acted for, not someone who took specific action herself, leading to doubt on my part as to whether her love for mochi wasn’t a bit of a facade due to a possible inability to move on from her mother’s death.

The important thing is that Tamako finally speaks up in Episode 12. She actively chooses what she had loved all along: the shopping district and her life as a mochi-maker’s daughter. Afterwards, everyone else has their say –– Dera and Choi both speak up in favor of Tamako staying –– but Tamako speaks first, for once, clearly delineating where her heart truly lies. Yes, we may have been able to surmise her choice from the first episode. And yes, Tamako may have known all along that she was already perfectly happy, but in vocalizing this, she establishes herself as someone who is not simply content with where she is, but actively choosing to be there.

As a final aside, it was wonderful to see that Mochizou, of all characters, was the first to inquire about Tamako’s feelings in all of this when the shopping district members were gathered to discuss the subject of her supposed marriage.

The lives of individuals are meaningless before the greater cause.

In the twenty-first episode of From the New World we are treated to the continuation of what is likely the series’ denouement. We are also informed of the central tenet of the queerat rebellion; a belief that not only motivates the queerats to take up arms against the human villages, but also the resolve to sacrifice both themselves and one another.

To paraphrase a queerat infantryman, they no longer wish to be ruled by tyrannic false gods.

Although bestowed with a god-like power, the humans of From the New World are most certainly not gods. To add to this, and whilst we do not know if they originally claimed godhood or not, we do know that they do not discourage the queerats in thinking them so. Ergo, we can comfortably agree with the charge of false godhood.

What then of the other charge, that of tyranny? Again, we find plentiful evidence that the humans are absolute rulers from a queerat perspective. The humans created and have since bred queerats; they use them for manual labour, they administer the lives and trials of the queerat populous, and they are happy to dispose of the occasional troublesome queerat colony, or indeed colonies, when deemed necessary.

Through modern eyes, tyranny is a bad thing – an outmoded form of governance to be eradicated at every opportunity. Should we, therefore, succumb to the very modern urge and support the queerat rebellion irrespective of how ominously it is painted by the series?

I would argue otherwise.

Within the series, it is indeed the case that one cannot simply excuse all problems present within the humans’ post-apocalyptic society. Yet neither can one wholly support a rebellion which, if successful, will likely lead to much worse conditions. One may build a barricade, but it does not always mean that one holds the high ground.

The primary cause for concern is the once humble Squealer; to be frank, and please do excuse my momentary rudeness, but the queerat Squealer is a devious piece of lettuce who dearly needs to be eradicated in the most painful way possible.

Once bestowed the name Yakomaru, and now queerat messiah, Squealer is very clever. He has managed to weasel his way into power through deception, cunning, and the ability to take advantage of myriad situations. He is a most exemplary politician. But surely, I hear the proverbial peanut gallery cry, he is doing this for the betterment of his species, and that not all problems can be resolved through discussion between political parties. This is arguably true; history teaches us that rebellions have a tendency to be most effective when blood is shed. Yet, the man is without scruple.

He is capable of not only killing his queen, which is not necessarily the best idea in a eusocial society, but destroying her mind and inflicting far worse a fate on her, than she could ever inflict on her own colony. He is willing to capture, manipulate, and effectively destroy children to achieve his revenge. Worse still, he is perfectly happy to send countless of his own species, his own subjects, to their ignoble deaths. Can we really trust a queerat such as he to lead a society without fundamental problems?

Onwards to the second cause for concern: the queerat as human allegory. When I made the assertion that Squealer is without scruple, I chose to describe him as ‘man.’ It might be argued, perhaps even successfully, that the queerats are representative of humankind. They are relatively simple, warmongering, and ambitious; we can see much of us in them. How, then, can one be comfortable with the conclusion that the grass is inherently greener beyond the barricade?

Finally, I am concerned with the knowledge gained by the queerats. As has been explicitly stated in the series, the queerats have likely found a repository of human knowledge – a False Minoshiro. Knowledge is commonly a destabilising force in society; especially knowledge that either goes against current teaching, or a lot of knowledge quickly gained. Fiction – from Stargate, through Lord of Light, to By the Waters of Babylon – has often shown that a lot of information, dispensed in an accelerated fashion, has the capability of radically changing society, and not usually for the better.

Let us assume then, that Squealer’s revolution should not succeed. Does that mean things shouldn’t change?

Not really. The queerats are sentient creatures, and they have discovered a False Minoshiro, so they should perhaps be treated akin to surly adolescents – with respect, but also watched like a hawk.

Of course, this leads to the question of how a more advanced society should act towards a less advanced society and species. Borrowing terminology from the excellent Lord of Light, should the advanced species adopt policies that promote non-interference, or should they adopt an accelerationist attitude and actively advance the lesser species?

The latter is dangerous for reasons akin to those surrounding the False Minoshiro. More so, perhaps, in From the New World, where the humans and queerats must live together, in the same world. Any destabilising of one society will likely bear repercussions on the other.

Yet if one were to assume the former, one must wonder if this is even possible. Total non-interference, such as that enacted by the ascended Ancients (or Alterans if you prefer) is surely impossible once the lesser species knows of the existence of the higher species. Indeed, in From the New World both sides are well known to each other; one having created the other, and both species living in the same world. Perhaps then, the humans should act as overseers to the queerats – keeping watchful eye over their wayward creation, but abstaining from direct input for the most part.

In summary, neither side in their current state is flawless or without crimes. The humans see and treat the queerats as nothing more than beasts, whereas the queerats decide the best method to gain some modicum of equality is genocide.

Tyranny can be useful; it can be benevolent as well as malevolent; it can ensure the survival of an entire race or species. Yet it also has a time and place. Perhaps in From the New World’s setting it’s time that tyranny, and the dynasty of the false gods, should be laid to rest, and a new relationship be formed between human and queerat. A relationship, I stress, that is not headed by members of either species blinded by foolhardy ideas of revenge or resentment, but developed through thoughtful discussion from leaders who remember their duty to those they rule.

“Maybe it’s arrogant to talk of supporting Acchan, but I succeeded 0048′s captain, Takahashi Minami. So I decided that I had to change. I had to be strong enough to support Acchan. That’s what I thought.”

-Minami “Takamina” Takahashi the 5th, AKB0048 Episode 20

Succession as portrayed in AKB0048 has always been a fascinating concept and focal point within the series. The idea is this: girl joins AKB0048 as an understudy, girl attends harsh vocal, dance, and combat training, girl’s “essence” will eventually resonate enough with one of the original AKB0048 members, mystical jellyfish blobs called kirara choose which original member the understudy will succeed, girl becomes a successor until she graduates (or ascends to that great stage in the sky with Atsuko “Acchan” Maeda the 13th). Understanding the process is simple, understanding exactly what makes one ready for succession and how they actually succeed, that’s something far more muddied and difficult to grasp.

Tomomi “Tomochin” Itano the 11th easily provides the most straightforward, and identifiably creepy, example of succession that the series examines. In a bizarre take on the Fujiwara clan’s dominance of Heian-era Japan, the women of the Itano family are selectively bred to look exactly like the original Tomomi Itano of AKB0048, ensuring that their family will always have one daughter in the group. Additionally, they have 48 Tomochin Scrolls with rules that the successor must adhere to. At one point, Tomochin the 11th expresses the desire to know what it’s like to not be “a Tomochin” as she’s been training to be one from birth. Tomochin’s example is one of a girl who has had little choice in becoming the AKB0048 successor that she did, making her later statement that she “likes Tomochin” hard to watch.

Next, AKB0048 presents us with the conflict between understudy Kanata Shinonome of the 75th generation and current successor Takamina the Fifth. Kanata immediately benefits the most from the arrival of AKB0048′s 77th generation, as it allows her natural leadership qualities to surface. This leads her to outshine the current successor to Minami Takahashi, Takamina the Fifth, until it is Kanata that the mystical kirara deem more worthy of the Takamina name.  Takamina the Fifth undergoes an angst-ridden confidence crisis where she struggles with her desire as AKB0048′s captain to nurture the understudies and her personal desire to be a successor. It all wraps up rather neatly, albeit with Takamina the Fifth feeling horrible about herself, and she retains her position as a successor while Kanata remains blissfully unaware.

“Hypothetically speaking, what if you were already qualified to be a successor? What would you do? If you could become Takahashi Minami the Sixth, what would you do? What if your skills and your soul were ready for succession long ago, but you couldn’t advance because of me?”

-Takamina the Fifth to Kanata Shinonome, AKB0048 Episode 20

This is revisited in Episode 20, on the eve of Mimori’s impending succession, when Takamina the Fifth asks Kanata the above questions. Unable to answer, Kanata says that both the name of Takahashi Minami the position and Takamina the Fifth the person hold a special place in her heart. Bringing the series back to this previous conflict shows how Takamina is still unable to move past it, due to her own character and role as a leader, and how Kanata is still the living embodiment of the qualities that Takahashi Minami supposedly espoused. Placed in the same episode as the initial quote regarding her own succession, one sees that Takamina the Fifth actively worked on those specific qualities of Takahashi Minami following her ascension to that position. What pieces of Takamina the Fifth are part of her own personality, and what ones she assumed once becoming “a Takamina” are purposefully muddy and unclear. Kanata is far more her own person than Takamina the Fifth has been shown to be, leaving an invested audience unsure as to whether they should root for Kanata to become a successor after all.

“Everyone’s unique in their own way, but I think it’s good to try all kinds of things. 00 is a weird place. Working so hard to become someone who isn’t yourself.”

- Sayaka Akimoto the 10th to Mimori Kishida, AKB0048 Episode Five

These ideas come to a head when Mimori Kishida becomes the next understudy to undergo the process of succession. First, she runs a fever as, in their manager Tsubasa’s words, her body attempts to reject or resonate with the soul attempting to enter it (much like a virus). Then comes a cleansing ritual, followed by the cutting of her hair. When presented on stage as the new Mariko Shinoda the 8th, the understudies ooh and ah in appreciation to the crowing of 76th generation Megu: “See, I told you she’d change.”

Megu has already been through the struggle that Kanata, and the current understudies as well as the audience, is about to go through. Her closest friend, Youko Asamiya, succeeded before her and become Sae Miyazawa the 10th. Through Megu, the series has already shown the resentment and strain that becoming a successor can put on a friendship. This creates the backdrop, along with Sensei-Sensei’s ominous chanting of “Sadistic,” for the newly-crowned Mariko to drag her friend Kanata onstage and issue her the challenge of becoming a successor by Christmas. Kanta acquiesces, saying that it’s an unreasonable demand, but she wants to keep their promise and shine alongside Mimori/Mariko. This leads everyone to laugh amongst themselves at how capricious the new Mariko is, as are all who succeed Mariko Shinoda according to her song “Ue Kara Mariko/Mariko From Above.” It’s all a bit ominous, especially with how surprised initially the understudies were at the fact that Mimori was chosen as Mariko specifically.

“Thanks for everything.”

Most importantly, the series had ensured that not only is she her family’s Mimori, Kanata’s Mimori, and the AKB0048 75th generation’s Mimori, but she’s the audience’s Mimori. Our Mimori. Although we, like her fans within the scope of the series, are happy to see her succeed, something about the whole business is also extremely off-putting. Prior to her succession we knew and loved the character of Mimori Kishida. The rebranding of her person as Mariko Shinoda the 8th sours the joy that the audience is supposed to feel at her achieving her dream. How one actually becomes a successor is less of a mystery than ever, but the battle between one’s love for a character and watching them become further entrenched in the AKB0048 brand is as confusing as ever.

Further Reading:

Shinmaru over at The Cart Driver wrote an excellent review of the first season.

Schneider over at Continuing World has some great AKB0048 editorials.

I wrote this post, comparing my personal favorite Kawamori creation to AKB0048.

Galaxy Express 999, 1978

Alternate title: In which AJtheFourth attempts to force you to watch Ringing Bell.

Fifty years ago, a little anime titled Tetsuwan Atomu, or Astro Boy, directed by creator Osamu Tezuka, aired on January 1st, 1963. Its popularity marks the beginning of what we now know as the anime industry. To celebrate this Ani-Versary (yes, mind the pun) Geoff Tebbetts of AniMaybe organized an amazing tribute to the past fifty years of anime with various anime writers, researchers, and bloggers picking specific years to cover. I’m honored to be a part of this project, and recently wrote an article on the year 1978 which covers, among many things, Leiji Matsumoto’s Galaxy Express 999 and Space Pirate Captain Harlock, Hayao Miyazaki’s directorial debut in Future Boy Conan, and the most depressing children’s movie ever imagined: Sanrio’s Ringing Bell. Please head over to The Golden Ani-Versary of Anime to read all of the articles. Then watch Ringing Bell and let me know what you think.

“When I made up my mind that leaving the home I had been born and raised in was inevitable, I was very sad and unhappy. But when I thought about what everyone there truly felt, it gave me pause. If I had been eliminated and disposed of by the village then, after much grief and tears, my parents would’ve eventually forgotten about me. Just as your parents eventually accepted the fate of your sister.”

-Maria Akizuki to Saki Watanabe, Shin Sekai Yori Episode 16

Initially, I had compared Shin Sekai Yori to Lois Lowry’s The Giver — not because the former was directly referencing the latter, but as a framework — as both books deal with similar dystopian societies. I will touch upon The Giver again in this post, more as a contrasting example, while exploring the progression of Shin Sekai Yori and where it could go from here.

Saki, Satoru, and “The System:”

When Saki Watanabe and company found their “False Minoshiro” I had suspected that this would be the turning point where the intrepid group of friends, changed by knowledge, would bring down the system. After all, once they had learned some truths behind humanity and PK users, how could they go back to their old society. However, the series proved through multiple time-skips and moments of rising action with no resolution that change would be far harder to come by in this society.

“Satoru and I fell out over something petty a while back…”

In her goodbye letter to Saki, Maria Akizuki points out that Saki’s incredible inner strength — not to be confused with any lack of emotion — still makes her an ideal member of the village. Tomiko Asahina, Satoru Asahina’s grandmother, confirms this and gives it as a reason for why Saki and her friends were not initially disposed of by the village following their acquisition of forbidden knowledge in episodes five through seven. In The Giver, Jonas is the one to bring down the system, following his acquisition of humanity’s memories. I had incorrectly assumed that Saki would follow a similar path, eventually becoming the person behind the village’s destruction.

It’s especially telling in episode 17 when Saki thinks of how her and Satoru had a falling out “a while back” as the series makes it a point to highlight how close they are to each other, and how lonely Saki already is with the amount of people she considers close to her dwindling by the episode, in episode 16.

All of Saki’s moments of truth: her more heartfelt scenes with Maria, Satoru, and Shun, all occur outside of the village’s control. However, once Saki returns to the village, she is once again assimilated back into their social structure. Soon, due to conditioning, hypnosis, and the rigorous psychological training that has been pushed upon her since infancy, these moments become fleeting memories that she is unable to access without a catalyst. Each time-skip the series undergoes offers fewer answers and more questions to its audience, resembling Saki’s altered, now-dreamlike, memories.

Squealer/Yakomaru and the ascension of the Robber Fly Colony:

While Saki may still be a large piece of the inevitable downfall of the system, it is one whose life she and Satoru are directly responsible for: Yakomaru, née Squealer, who is now the more likely candidate to challenge the village rule. Previously a mere mouthpiece for the weak Robber Fly queerat colony, Yakomaru has built a near empire of his own through the course of the series. He credits human knowledge for his subsequent takeover and restructuring of the queerats’ governing methods; however, fails to articulate exactly where he found said knowledge.

Presumably, Yakomaru had stumbled upon another repository of human knowledge, a so-called False Minoshiro. If this is the case, he would have been made to understand that Saki, Satoru, and their village of PK users are definitively not gods, forever altering his perception of their superiority. Not only is he slowly amassing a large amount of queerats under his rule, but one can assume he is also spreading the word that human PK users, like Saki and Satoru — who once saved not only his life but his entire colony — are not gods after all.

“Can a village that kills its children to maintain peace and order be considered a normal human society? According to the false minoshiro, our history is one filled with bloodshed. However, I don’t believe we have much to be proud of when comparing ourselves to the dark ages of the past.”

-Maria Akizuki to Saki Watanabe, Shin Sekai Yori Episode 16

How do you solve a problem like Maria?

It’s this line of thought that brings us to Maria, who chose to leave the village with Mamoru instead of continuing to live bound by its strict codes of conduct. She, like Yakomaru and unlike Saki, is unable to let go of the information she has learned, especially her vague memories of one friend (Shun) disappearing coupled with the village’s recent attempt on Mamoru’s life. Maria’s choice to remove herself from the village means that she also is free from its psychological and hypnotic influences. Maria continuously touches upon the fact that she believes her and Saki’s relationship to have been a true one, as opposed to the political and emotionally-detached relationships that most people in the village have. By leaving, her choice allows her to protect her emotional attachments, unlike the example of Saki and Satoru.

Keeping their memories and knowledge intact allows for both Maria and Yakomaru to see the village from the outside, something that Saki has seen in brief flashes but has always been able to return from. Only time will tell if she will end up a part of the impending rebellion; however, it’s seemingly now up to Maria and Yakomaru to initiate the process.

“Say it’s only a paper moon

Sailing over a cardboard sea

But it wouldn’t be make believe

If you believed in me.”

-It’s Only a Paper Moon, Harold Arlen

Sometimes, it takes a little magic to make something believable. Sticking glow-in-the-dark stars to your bedroom ceiling won’t suddenly transport you outside, especially with your brother’s snoring. Sledding down the hill behind the elementary school on a stolen cafeteria tray won’t make you an Olympic luge medalist. And the giant plant puppet in the high school play didn’t actually eat your friend playing the sadistic dentist.

Kyoto Animation doesn’t do anything in Tamako Market to make a mysterious tropical talking bird believable to the inhabitants of the Usagi-yama shopping district, he just is. The question that arises is: why?

The obvious answer is to act as a catalyst for the story progression. But why then did they pick a bird that speaks? A loud transfer student, returning childhood friend, or new teacher could have accomplished the same ends. The reason lies in the oddity of Dera Mochimazzi’s existence, allowing him purposefully stand out in the role, where a perceived “ordinary” character would have simply blended in.

Tamako Market focuses on simple problems, but they are no less powerful for being easily identifiable.  The Usagi-yama market café becomes the isolated space where characters turn forward and attempt to come to terms with their conflicting, and painfully human, thoughts. In the café, Tamako – the brightest spot in the series – shows a quiet inner strength when speaking of her mother, Midori is able to accept her love for another even if she cannot vocalize it yet, and Shiori is finally able to give a voice to her gratitude.

“It was really, really fun!”

Much like Chuunibyou Demo Koi ga Shitai! addressed the question of abandoning our childhood dreams in favor of the self-aware mantle of adulthood, Tamako Market displays the personal concerns of its cast by using the exotic bird Dera Mochimazzi as the bridge between inner turmoil and acceptance. He is magical in order to stand out to the viewer, not the characters.

Houtarou’s deductions and Rikka’s delusions are given animated substance in Hyouka and Chuunibyou respectively to show the difference between thought and reality, where Mochimazzi’s existence as the animated magical element of Tamako Market simply is. This allows him to play his part to perfection. He becomes the lens that we peek through into the wonderful world of Usagi-yama. It is Mochimazzi who takes Midori aside and gives her an opportunity to reflect on her love for Tamako in the café. By falling on Shiori – and falling for Shiori – he brings her into the warmth of the shopping district, allowing her to finally speak to Tamako and friends, whom she had always wanted to grow closer to. And although a new transfer student or Usagi-yama shopkeeper could have achieved similar ends, it wouldn’t have been nearly as magical to us, the viewer.

Last year, Mysterious Girlfriend X used magical realism to develop its primary relationship: saliva-tasting and subsequent sharing of emotions were treated as a common occurrence. Like Urabe’s saliva, Mochimazzi’s being is supernatural but also treated as an everyday existence. The truly magical in Tamako Market are the ordinary people who inhabit Usagi-yama, and Tamako herself.

Later on, the series will surely address Mochimazzi’s mission to find a bride for his prince, and the perceived magical elements will come to the forefront, once all of the characters and their relationships have been established. However, I prefer the series as it is now: sticking glow-in-the-dark stars on our ceiling to allow us to appreciate the true beauty of the real night sky.

The fifteenth episode of the currently airing From The New World continues Saki and Satoru’s quest to find their friends, and return with them to the human settlement before their deadline falls, and the hounds released.

The series itself has prompted a smattering of praise, speculation, and attention from across the anisphere. Indeed, with recent revelations, one might wish to spill yet more ink on a range of topics; from Mamoru and Maria’s inevitable demise, to the limits of the humans’ abilities. In the following, I intend to spill my ink on the topic of the societies shown—that of the queerat society in particular.

In the latest episode, fifteen at time of writing, we are reintroduced to the queerat Squealer. Since we last saw him, this little fellow appears to have manoeuvred himself into a position of not insignificant political power. Now named Yakomaru, he stands as a representative of the queerats’ newly formed assembly, the governing body of a coalition of some eighteen thousand queerats and their colonies. This is a marked departure from the queerats’ society seen in previous episodes.

The transition from absolute monarchy to a republic or constitutional monarchy, is commonly associated with a smattering of decapitations—a head especially expected to roll is that of monarch’s own. The introduction of the democratic process in some form, as seen here, is also considered a Good Thing in today’s climate. Yet only more so, when His or Her Majesty is a few shillings short of a crown, or so to speak.

Regicide itself is a topic that tends to be approached according to one’s nationality, political views, and the general public’s disposition towards the King or Queen at that time. The people who carry it out are sometimes branded traitors, other times heroes. Indeed, sometimes it has worked well.

France, whose nobility somewhat ironically forgot their duty, has arguably benefitted without yet another King Louis, decadently lounging on his throne. On other occasions, however, the grass was not quite as green as hoped.

Across the Channel, Cromwell and his fellow Parliamentarians were quite happy to depose and decapitate Charles I. Expecting the following years to be better without a monarch who believed in his Divine Right, what instead followed was a string of campaigns that led to Cromwell himself, revealed as a bit of a genocidal despot, being crowned in all but name. Once Cromwell had returned to the earth, his son and successor, Richard Cromwell, only worsened the situation. A bit of a wet blanket, and without the support of the military, he was soon deposed. This led to the return of instability, and eventually the extension of an invitation for Charles’ son and heir to take up his rightful throne.

Cromwell might have been a hypocrite, and arguably no worse than some of history’s kings, but he was useful to a certain extent. We are now quite happy with our constitutional monarchy and particular flavour of British Democracy. Indeed, one might argue that democracy is generally good, whilst monarchy a bit of a mixed bag. A leader under the former can either be waited out, or forcefully removed from office with a strongly worded letter. That is not to say one’s country is doomed if the latter is both absolute, and whose entire royal family is unfit to rule. Regicide and revolution, is always an option.

Yet what if one were an insect; more specifically, an insect whose queen is the only member of that colony capable of reproduction. In this case, one might consider regicide a bit of a bad idea.

The queerats of From The New World are similar to such insects, in that it has been shown that not only do they live in colonies, but that their queen is the mother of the entire colony. Yakomaru, in his quest for democracy and equal rights for all queerat, has prudently not killed his queen. He has, however, made her a mindless slave. As have the other queerat colonies in his coalition to their own queens.

Yakomaru’s queen—once tyrannic, cannibalistic, and powerful, according to Yakomaru himself—has been reduced to nothing more than an incubator. Her only task to produce offspring for the growth of the colony. Her mind only capable of this. She has been robbed of independent thought, of her freedom, and of the very rights, as a member of society, that our queerat friend has placed on high. Whilst I would personally suggest this much worse a crime than any a dictator might inflict upon his people, I do not wish to turn this into a discussion of what is right and wrong under these circumstances.

More generally, From The New World, has highlighted several forms of governance. We have seen most of the Buddhism-inspired, totalitarian state of the human settlement. Formed as a means of defence against themselves, its shortcomings and necessary elements have both been highlighted. Through a series of flashbacks and the repository named False Minoshiro, we have seen myriad societies in their attempts to acclimatise to a subset of their people having supernatural abilities. These societies have often been unpleasant and arbitrary in our modern eyes, with their flaws self-evident. Away from the human settlement, we have seen the queerats’ society. Previously dismissed as simple beasts, bred to serve humans, and created to do the settlement’s dirty work, they are shown as an advancing society. Indeed, as Satoru mentions within the episode, we see ourselves, our own history, in their advances.

Akin to real-world societies, those presented have flaws and benefits both. Indeed, From The New World does not appear to shy away from this fact; instead presenting the world and its inhabitants in such a way that one might suspect it challenging the viewer to consider society itself, and the dreadful questions and compromise that accompany any form of governance.

As such, it does not, as other media might, present one society as the utopian ideal. Hence, making the question of which is best open ended, and mayhap, unanswerable. It might also be argued, albeit perhaps less successfully, that certain forms of society are both necessary and beneficial at certain times in civilisation’s development. It should also be noted that one can have a benevolent dictator, a just monarch, or a grand vizier with only the wellbeing of the people at heart. Suggesting, perhaps, that the type and title of office held is inferior to the qualities of the man who holds it.

Yet the uncertainty presented in From The New World is not troubling in the slightest. Rather the questions and challenges this series raises, of the myriad forms of governance, and more generally, of morality and of ethics, is a delight in and of itself.

source: zerochan

Radar: I can’t because I’m ignoring her all the time.

Hawkeye: Why?

Radar: Because she’s ignoring me.

Hawkeye: Ah! But you ignored her first!

Radar: Yeah, that’s because I’m trying to beat her to the ignore.

-a conversation between Radar O’Reilly and Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H Season 3, Episode 6

At first glance, this exchange is tremendously silly. As it is upon second glance and third glance. Radar, smitten by a woman in his military unit, is too afraid to speak with her. Naturally, his first instinct is to ignore her completely.

Is this counterproductive? Definitely, but it’s also a reaction that all of us can relate to. By ignoring her, Radar puts himself at a very comfortable distance, with which he can admire the lady risk-free. In his mind, it’s far better to ignore her and pine from afar than chance her turning him down if he attempts to become close.

Self-deprecation, which I’m certain many of you are familiar with, works in the same exact vein. I’ll call myself ugly before you do, that way it won’t hurt as much if you think so. I’ll say my voice is horrid, so you don’t say so when I raise it in song. You will never have an opportunity to say I am bad at anything before I’ll have already admitted the same. You will never hate me as much as I already hate myself.

Is this counterproductive? Yes. And it is here that we meet Yukari Hayasaka.

“That sort of modesty is very rude. It’s like you’re saying Mikako just randomly chose ‘someone like you’ and has no professional discernment.”

-George Koizumi to Yukari Hayasaka, Paradise Kiss Volume 2

Previously, Yukari Hayasaka studied incredibly hard to enter a college-prep high school, her mother’s disappointment at her failure to get in to an elite elementary school still fresh in her mind. She took studying seriously; however, it was a series of mechanized movements, all to please her mother. Lacking the natural intelligence of her younger brother, Yukari could only ever hope to pass as an average student, even with an inordinate amount of studying.

It is with this robotic approach to schoolwork and an aimless heart that Yukari is introduced to the world of fashion by the passionate members of the titular Paradise Kiss clothing brand. Slowly, Yukari begins to see a different future, still fumbling with finding her own path and unable to leave the insecurities of her childhood behind. She is far quicker to insult herself than she is to praise her own abilities, the rejection of her mother so deep-seated in her memory.

The lead designer of Paradise Kiss, and Yukari’s love interest, George, swiftly calls this to her attention. By Yukari saying that Mikako – a professional designer with her own popular brand – only chose her as a model because she was simply “there,” she inadvertently insults Mikako as an artist. Yukari naturally reverts to such statements, due both to her upbringing and her innate lack of confidence and direction, without realizing that they indirectly insult people who care about her and believe in her ability.

As the other property I’ve seen to explore the hurtful nature of self-deprecation, xxxHolic brings this to its audience’s attention through the character of Watanuki Kimihiro. Like Yukari, Watanuki has his own reasons for feeling aimless. He chooses to selflessly aid anyone in need without regard to his own personal well-being. This comes to a breaking point when he, through supernatural means, offers up something irreplaceable to save his acquaintance, Doumeki, from a curse. His sacrifice not only angers Doumeki, but inspires a girl who is in love with Watanuki to attempt to get it back. She becomes captured in the process, leading Watanuki to rush to her aid. Like George, the Spider Queen holding the girl hostage has only derision and some choice words for Watanuki’s actions.

“In other words, you consider her an absolute fool who would try to protect worthless trash as yourself. There are others too, right? Others who hold you dear. Yet you never notice and fail to value yourself at all…it’s that particular attitude that I just loathe.”

- Spider Queen to Watanuki Kimihiro, xxxHolic Volume 8

Following this harsh insight, Watanuki finally allows himself to open up to people.

By the same token, the latter half of the second volume of Paradise Kiss sees Yukari consider her own actions much more carefully, both for her own future and the feelings of those close to her. Deciding to be firm, yet honest, with her mother about her new-found dream of becoming a model allows the two to begin mending their broken relationship. Without feeling as much pressure from her mother, Yukari discovers that studying comes easier than she had previously thought, to the point where she plans her future as a model with college entrance exams as her safety net. Although her romance with George is an obvious catalyst, more important is Yukari’s personal development on her own terms. She naturally begins to accept others the more she begins to do things for herself.

source: pixiv