Shameful Otaku Secret!

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.

Brought to you by CCY, the 12 Moments of Anime 2009, and a lot of staples.

Whether you look at the online response or the crushing domestic sales of the DVDs, Bakemonogatari is not only one of the biggest shows of the year, it’s a huge win for SHAFT and Akiyuki Shinbo, the love-him-or-hate-him iconoclast director. Personally I think it’s one of his best works, and when you think about it, an adaptation seemingly custom made for him. And a big part of that success at large comes from the popularity of its lead haremette, Hitagi Senjougahara.

Now, whether you believe in her authenticity is up to you (thanks ghostlightning). And whether you believe in Shinbo’s version of protagonist Ararararararararagi as a vicious indictment of the viewer, well that’s up to you too. Personally, you can’t discount thinking about either angle. They make this scene that much more delicious. What is she getting at? Is it a giant joke? Why English? To emphasize the joke? Or is Senjougahara, underneath her scary stapler-wielding exterior, so uncomfortable expressing such a sentiment that she has to switch off to another language just to get it out?

Much of this was never quite answered, although Senjougahara finally showed more than just a hint of very real sincerity that gives us plenty of hints. In the end, she really was a girl, and a lovely one at that. And though that final episode was the crowning achievement in the whole surreal ball of wax, this bizarro world confession remains a standout moment that will probably stick in my head longer than most of this list.

Part of the 12 Moments in Anime 2009, and probably the only one of mine that gets this personal.

Solanin covers the same post-college years as Honey & Clover II that I sometimes get nostalgic for (I call them the “adulthood isn’t really gonna be so bad after all” years). It’s the time when you’re unburdened of the responsibility of school, and the current burdens of work-life don’t seem so bad yet. Doesn’t take long for that to change. But I digress.

Solanin is an empowering, uplifting story that makes following your dreams seem like a realistic and manageable proposition. A small chunk of your dream is still your dream, after all. It’s a feel-good story with lovably flawed characters, and a live performance scene that really makes you feel like you’re in a club watching a band give it their all (which, let’s face it, many bands don’t always do).

But there is a moment. it’s the moment when drummer Billy decides that playing a show is the right thing to do. It’s a mixed bag because he’s also come to the realization that he’s done. The “dream” is over, he’s become that guy who gave up on it. And his only choice left is to reclaim that tiny slice.

This moment haunts me. Dead serious. As a musician, I’ve never planned for huge success — in fact, the types of music I’ve played have never enjoyed widespread notoriety at all — but I always hoped I could get some albums out on real labels, travel around in a van playing music, and hopefully meet some people in other places who’d heard me and were into the same kinds of things. I still don’t know if I’ve given up on that. But that one page of Solanin made me realize that I was Billy too.

I suppose if I lived in a manga it’d be easy to claim that slice of a dream, but my band (who play the most accessible, potentially-successful music I’ve ever done) lives the reality of the situation weekly. We’re no longer the bums that Solanin’s characters are, and jobs, spouses, children, and other commitments threaten at every turn to strike even that small chump-change dream down. But in those moments, I suppose I can always think of Meiko, Katou, and Billy living their moment.