Shameful Otaku Secret!

The final installment of the 12 Moments in Anime 2009, the gift that will finally stop giving today.

There are a few things to which you can attribute my fandom. Chalk it up most notably to Evangelion, the “show that made a million fanboys.” Before that, my interest was spurred on by ultraviolent Kawajiri’s OVAs like Ninja Scroll and Wicked City. Before that, the dark atmosphere of Vampire Hunter D fascinated me.

But before all of that, before I was even old enough to have the slightest idea what “anime” was, I watched cartoons on TV. Now, in the days before “japanimation” became something that companies could sell, the name of the game was adaptation, usually of 10-20 year old shows. And the adapters got everything wrong. They renamed the shows to some stupid nonsense (involving the word “Star” and a verb, usually). They threw Macross in a pot with some Mospeada and Southern Cross and stirred until it curdled into Robotech. And they replaced any lines that they didn’t feel like translating with random yelling and screaming. After all, who cares what them Japs wrote in the first place — it’s just some dumb kid’s show from the country where they make our radios (Contrast this with the aforementioned 90s, when “AUTHENTIC ANIME FROM JAPAN” is here and it’s NOT FOR KIDSSSSSS).

But occasionally, they were right. Yes, “Tranzor Z” is a dumb name. As is Deviline. And Dr. Demon is far less threatening than Dr. Hell. But what’s really important? The giant fucking robot that comes out of a waterfall and tears the shit out of bad guys, occasionally getting upgrades along the way. That’s what’s important. And on Saturday mornings, I sat transfixed as Tranzor Z did just that. I didn’t know or care how old the series was by that point, or what the names of the characters should have been. I was glued to the TV regardless.

So Shin Mazinger Shougeki Z-Hen’s first rocket punch, circa episode 3, wasn’t just an amazing moment. It was a moment of time travel. Time travel that Imagawa himself was obviously partaking in (and milking). Shin Mazinger is full of these moments. After all, it’s specifically built using all the parts you remember and love (some of them upgraded), without all the parts you didn’t like, and then constructed at 20 times the size of the original just so the impact isn’t lost on your cynical adult mind. It’s the Gurren Lagann principle: Its Gainax creators wanted to transport viewers to their childhood by increasing the scale to match your own widened picture of the world. And they did a great job, but they lacked the specificity of Imagawa’s angle. This is childhood, and this is hands down the greatest moment in anime 2009.

I’ve heard that Santa often brings War in the Pocket to you /m/en out there, so here’s my penultimate (that is, uh, 11th) Moment of Anime 2009.

Yesterday I mentioned one of the going theories about Bakemonogatari: that either in Nisoisin’s original story or in the mind of Wackiyuki Shinbo, protagonist Ararararararagi became a parody and an indictment of the spineless nice-guy semi-lolicon tendencies of the viewer. It’s potent stuff; after all, we love to be talked to directly, don’t we? And most movies, books, and anime would just as soon preach at you or humor your worst qualities, so it’s almost refreshing to be sneakily made fun of.

But Bakemonogatari isn’t the first time people have thought about this. IKnight, despite claiming to reach no definite conclusion, ruined pretty much anyone’s ability to write about Gundam 0080: War In The Pocket with his breakdown of the typical “war sucks” standard that most Gundam (supposedly) carries. But despite the excellent case he makes that it’s not always as simple as that, what little Gundam I’ve seen and enjoyed is at its best when it’s making that point. War does suck, especially in a world where even the basic movement of the military devices creates huge collateral damage. And while 0080’s Al might have managed to float through a lot of serious events without grasping the full weight of that, one moment stopped him cold, and probably did the same for you.

I’m talking of course about the harrowing scene after Bernie and Chris’s battle, in which Al finally realizes who’s inside that mean old Feddie mobile suit — and what she’s done to his friend. Al’s temporary catatonia paired nicely with my own shock at the brutality of execution of that scene. It was coming since the moment Chris first entered the Gundam, but I just didn’t expect it to be so intense when it happened.

You can say what you want about war-machine fanatics making the Gundam “war sucks” experience a big ourobouros of irony, and you’d be right. But in moments like this, it’s still the king of hammering home its grim message.

Pretty sure three years is a tradition, but I couldn’t think of 12 great blogging moments for CCY’s ongoing 12 days of Christmas project this year. Fortunately, ghostlightning gave me an out by suggesting I do what he’s doing, with moments in anime instead. Even more fortunately, CCY decided to make his 12 moments this year about pretty much whatever.

The question is, can I find 12 awesome things that my true love, cartoons, gave to me this year?

Well, here’s one, and it just about makes up for any shortcomings anywhere else.

That's not the only thing amazing about this.

This year, since my own 30th anniversary of life coincided with Gundam’s, I finally took in the original, in movie form. While I’d failed at the series, and hated most of the modern Gundam creations, this one slew me. There really are a lot of moments here, and many have had their meaning memefied into oblivion. But while “mistakes of youth” and the Don Johnson suit cement Char’s place in the Pantheon of Awesome Villains, and the Brightslap sums up the “grimdark + hilarity” recipe that makes Gundam, Char on a covered wagon is an unstoppable force of madness. It’s a universe of its own, a confusing singularity of ridiculousness that should have offended me (Planet Texas? Really?) but really just had me on the rewind button for a good ten minutes.