Otaku, No Video

© Sunrise, Bandai

I feel uncomfortable watching Gundam AGE. Seven episodes in, and I feel caught in a world of conflicting contrasts.

On the one hand, AGE begins by killing the protagonist’s mother in front of him, in a dark sequence similar to a key scene in Barefoot Gen. Referencing Hiroshima makes a strong statement about the writers’ intention for drama. And even this early in the show’s plot, one “good guy” has already suffered a tragic death.

The retro character designs seem to be a point of confusion. The characters are not young children; Flit is 14 years old. They are quickly thrust into conflict and lose everything except each other.

On the other hand, AGE is a brightly-colored show that features a number of upbeat characters. Flit, Emily, and Dique may furrow their brows during most of these episodes, but they have none of the rage or babe-in-the-woods characteristics of most young teens thrust into a Gundam plot. They feel like characters from a show aimed at a younger audience. Even the AGE System smells like a convenient process to introduce a new toy every few episodes.

Meanwhile, the show has already introduced many familiar Gundam elements: the arrogant pilot, the awesome old commander, and the battleship that takes the Gundam everywhere. We’ve even seen several characters that seem plucked straight out of other series: the purple-haired girl Yurin could be a younger Tifa Adil from Gundam X, and the devil child Decil could be the son of 00‘s Ribbons Almark.

All of this is told in a completely unfamiliar story. Never before have Gundam heroes tried to save a colony by removing part of it; they’ve never tried to save colonies besides preventing their destruction. Never before was the protagonist also the Gundam’s chief engineer. Indeed, never before has the protagonist wanted to pilot the Gundam this badly (except, perhaps, Seed Destiny’s Shinn).

Speaking of whom, Flit is the most normal, kid-next-door protagonist in Gundam. Shiro’s too noble, Al’s too curious, and Kira’s too long-suffering compared to Flit. His only flaw is his myopia about the Gundam, though such focus is common for a young teen boy. Flit’s just trying to finish a project, and is sucked into a strange, selfish adult world. The adults’ motivations make no sense to him. While Flit is prone to outbursts more common in Kamille and Amuro, Flit has none of those characters’ Aspergers-like insularity.

While I’m at it: thank you, writers of AGE, for Emily’s fire. She acts. She lacks resources and skills, so her attempts to act haven’t shown results yet, but she’s a clear contrast to ”good Japanese girls” like Frau Bow and Tifa. Granted, most modern Gundam hero’s girlfriends have been active, from Relena Peacecraft and Lacus Clyne to Sochie Heim and Diana Soreil.

Which reminds me: I felt the same disconnect when I first watched Turn-A: familiarity combined with the unique, to a far more extreme degree than I’d seen in other Gundam series.

Interesting. My love for Turn-A reassures me about AGE.

Strike Witches © Gonzo

Pardon me while I rant for a moment.

I’m tired of people replying to negative feedback with the ”Well, everything is just my opinion” defense.

To illustrate my point, let’s look at three variations of opinion:

1. “I don’t like element Z of show X, for the following reasons.”
2. “Show X doesn’t work for me, for the following reasons.”
3. “Show X doesn’t work, for the following reasons.”

The closer a writer’s comments veer towards #3, the shakier that writer’s argument, and the more evidence is needed to support it. Argument #3 states an opinion about the show’s ability to work for its audience. Now, that is a personal opinion, but it’s a very different opinion than a statement about how well the show works for the writer.

Does that make sense? I can state that Manos: The Hands of Fate doesn’t work as a movie, because there are dozens of reviews to back that up, and I could apply plenty of well-established rules of film criticism to prove that it doesn’t work. However, if I were to state that Strikes Witches or K-ON! don’t work, that flies in the face of many positive reviews and an established fan base. These shows clearly work for someone.

Moreover, reality isn’t completely subjective. The name of a manga’s author is a fact. When a review states that a series is “hugely popular,” I should hope that’s based on some kind of evidence. Similarly, a description of the show’s premise (“a girl falls out of the sky into a boy’s arms”) is not opinion.

So, reviews contain quite a lot of non-fiction. Since that’s so, it’s vital for authors to clearly separate opinion from fact in an article, and be clear about their opinions’ scope.

Thank you.

"Shifty Reverse Macro" by orangeacid on Flickr

Warning: The following is about blogging, not anime or manga.

There’s another great post over at Cutfilm Tovent, this time about my earlier post on the art of anime. I read the post with great sympathy, because I was there for years, and I still deal with it.

To quote from the post:

…how can one describe such slippery ideas as melody, rhythm, timbre and such, which provoke such strong emotions but defy easy linguistic pigeonholing

Even when I love the look of a series, I find it very hard to string together the right words to explain why, or to at least describe it to a somewhat accurate degree.

The key to the difficulty lies in the adjectives:

…defy easy linguistic pigeonholing…

…I find it very hard to string together the right words…

Sure, it’s hard.

I wanted to be one of those bloggers I read about in magazines, the bloggers who launched a blog and, after 3 months or 6 months, had 10,000 readers and a growing pile of Google ad revenue.

The reality: It’s really hard. There’s no easy pigeonholing, and it is very very hard to string together the words properly. I’ve had to push myself to do it anyway, to keep up with topics I don’t care about (I can’t believe how often I read ANN these days), to analyze a frame or a concept I wouldn’t normally think about, to generally work harder than I want to.

And I’m still working. I’m still challenging myself. This is not to say I’m awesome; it’s to say that this is my path.

If you’re struggling, I think the best advice comes from Robert Frost: The best way out is always through.

I’m pulling for you.

I don’t really have anywhere to go with this; just want to register my frustration:

Anime is a visual medium. Yes, there are voice actors and sound effects and such. But the art is central to the experience.

And yet reviewers rarely talk about the art itself. What do the characters look like? How big are the eyes compared to other, similar works? How are the bodies drawn? How is hair rendered? What’s the color scheme?

On that last front, I’m amazed at the conservation of color in Akira. Considering the size of the film’s budget–US $11 million, many times that of most films–look at how many colors are used here on Tetsuo:

Akira © Katsuhiro Otomo, TMS Entertainment, Toho

Three skin colors, two red cape colors, two shirt colors (white and gray), and two pant colors. That’s it. That’s not a complaint; the film remains beautiful. It’s smart economy.

I’m frustrated about mostly because I don’t talk about the art much either. I’ve almost completely missed this element of analysis and review.

Time to get better.

Clannad © Key/visual arts, Kyoto Animation

I’ve recently been playing a very simple visual novel, and the linear plot got me thinking about story in anime, particularly those anime based on visual novels.

The visual-novel-to-anime transition requires a much greater leap than, say, the manga-to-anime transition. The branching plot lines in a visual novel must somehow be merged and/or pruned into a single story.

Some adaptations focus on a single girl’s plot, essentially following only one of the game’s plot lines to the exclusion of the others. Others divide their time between multiple different plot lines. ef — a tale of memories switches back and forth between two of the game’s plot lines. Amagami SS reboots itself every four episodes, telling each girl’s story sequentially.

What happens when you try to tell just one coherent story? Well, of course, that depends on the source material. From what I’ve learned, Fate/stay night‘s plot is quite linear, so the adaptation to anime is relatively straightforward. But a game like Air or Clannad splits into multiple different stories.

The obvious solution is to delve into each plot line all the way up to–but not including–its resolution. The boy can’t pick each girl (though that would be a funny adaptation).

This is actually helped by the ”Crying Girl” formula invented by Key. Each plot focuses mostly on getting to know each girl and learning the secret of her past that explains her current personality. In the game, this leads the protagonist to fall in love with her and choose her as his girlfriend. In an anime adaptation, his reaction can be pulled back into sympathy rather than love.

And this explains why the protagonists of these anime are so often accused of being cold-hearted or otherwise indifferent. If the boy fell for each tragic girl he came across, the anime would be over in 6 episodes.

It’s an awkward arrangement, but it’s the only way to satisfy as many fans as possible.

© Asahi Production

Spoiler Alert

I finished watching Super Robot Wars OG: The Inspector last night, and felt completely satisfied by the ending. Why?

1. The protagonists rocked. The good guys faced hugely powerful foes, and proceeded to whale on them. They didn’t worry about it, they didn’t have long debates. I want shades of gray in real robot series; not in super robot series (at least, not in the end battle).
2. The end included a denouement. Seeing the fate of each character–even if just for the next couple of months–provides an important feeling of closure. There’s a reason that fairy tales end with “And they all lived happily ever after.”
3. The ending included a lot of fights. This is a super robot show; fights should be central. And the final episode of SRWOG:TI consisted almost entirely of wall-to-wall showdown fights.

That’s how to do it.

I’m  nearly done with Super Robot Wars OG: The Inspector, and man is it a deliriously fun show.

And by that I mean I’m delirious. Due to the vast size of the cast–dozens of main, named pilots–I just can’t keep up with who’s who, and particularly, who’s piloting which mecha. Much less which side they’re on (and we’re up to at least 4 different sides).

But that’s okay, because I know how to watch a super robot show. Super robot shows don’t operate according to the laws of physics, and their plots are usually cheesy.

Super robot shows are about emotion. The characters are pushed to great emotional highs (and lows), and the viewer is pushed around as well. One is supposed to be excited when a giant robot forms its blazing sword, or a new enemy appears. The viewer’s supposed to cheer and laugh and cry.

So, yes, I’m unable to follow the plot closely, or keep track of all the characters. And it’s still great fun.

After my past week of illness, I pulled out my iPad this morning, curled up in a chair, and started catching up on blogs. After reading a WSJ story that made me want to do odd things with my iPhone (but that’s another story), I saw Preventing Anime Burn-Out on Ogiue Maniax. Much as I love that blog, the article left me disappointed, as it used 8 long paragraphs and 788 words to say “watch different anime.” Let’s go a little deeper, shall we?

We all recognize burnout: feeling fed up with a genre or medium. On one extreme, you merely lack the passion you once had; on another, it’s like you can’t even look at the genre any more.

A useful parallel is writer’s block. I’ve found two kinds of writer’s block: Existential Cramps and Laziness. The first is a genuine physiological inability to write: you sit down at a keyboard, your fingers lock, and mind completely blanks. It’s actually fairly rare. The second, more common writer’s block is the kind we’d often get in school when a paper’s due, you haven’t done any research, and you sit down to ”bang something out.” Nothing flows, because you’re unprepared and exhausted. You can write gibberish or bad stuff, but nothing good.

Similarly, there are two kinds of burnout, which I’ll call Full Burnout and Boredom. In the latter, which I think is being addressed in the Ogiue Maniax post above, you just don’t care about the anime you’re currently watching. In that case, sure, watch VOTOMS or Perfect Blue instead.

If you’re suffering from Full Burnout, on the other hand, you’re completely unable to even look at anime. You’re sick of the clichés, the stereotypes, and even the art style.

There are several possible causes of Full Burnout:

It could be that you’ve legitimately exhausted your interest in the medium. We all have interests that come and go; we’ve all had hobbies that lasted for a few weeks or months or years, then faded away.

There’s nothing wrong with being an otaku temporarily. A good friend of mine did this; he went from hardcore anime fan to hardcore movie fan.

It could also be that you need time to process. Our minds need some time to fully absorb ideas, beyond the time spend experiencing them for the first time. We can easily gorge on anime, then find ourselves nauseous.

In that case, my prescription is: Walk away from anime. That Saturday you would have spent watching anime? Take a book to a nearby park. Try meditation. Start working on a novel. Heck, even try some other aspect of fandom: fanfic, AMV creation, role-playing, etc.

We get so wrapped up in Being An Otaku that we forget we’re more than otaku.