Twelve Thingies: Do your homework.

Part of the 12 Anime Moments of 2009, and the horse it rode in on.

2009 was a big year for anime for one solid reason: Haruhi returned. Long baited, teased, and ridiculed, fans of the 2000s’ biggest series were finally rewarded for their patience. Turns out, they weren’t rewarded all that well, but at least we got the wonderfully entertaining Haruhi-chan and Nyoron Churuya-san.

Of the things that made the return noteworthy — drops in animation quality, the near-punching of the titular (anti-)heroine, or the introduction of the book series’ central time-travel themes — one stands above: Endless Eight. Is it another troll on the fans? They certainly have reason to think that way after their treatment by Vengeful God Kadokawa. Is it a failed attempt to be clever? Who knows. It’s almost avant-garde when you think about it. No one’s ever done anything like it. But in the end, I think it was brilliant. Not just the fact that it was done, but in its execution.

See, by the close of Endless Eight (which did, in fact have an end, and that’s what makes it a ripoff), viewers were micro-focused on changes in outfits, slight variations on the dialog, and Kyon’s minute advances. So when the brain-snapping end finally came, the force of your fist in the air was enough to raise you out of your seat.

haruhi: endless end

Was it, in combination with the “Sighs of Haruhi Suzumiya” story, enough to gain back the goodwill lost during the most experimental anime arc of the century? Doesn’t seem that way. Maybe the movie version of Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya, one of the most well-liked stories, will fix that. Hard to say. But love Endless Eight or hate it, at least it gave us this moment.

What’s on? Robot gods and returning goddesses

It’s been a while since I wrote a watching report, but in truth it’s been a while since I was watching enough to justify one. Here’s my current tub o’ fun:

Shin Mazinger Z

hot blooded, check it and see

A couple seasons ago, Madhouse breathed new life into an old franchise as well with Casshern Sins. That one was done in a very western-comic-book fashion though: He’s back, and this time he’s dark! Go Nagai’s Shin Mazinger, however, directly channels the spirit of the original and consequently transports you back to childhood — to a time when a Rocket Punch was a supremely cool thing. Hot-blooded pilot Kouji’s angst is a little overplayed in the past couple episodes, but retro robots maintain. The brick-shitting may be over, but the adrenaline rush that brought it on is still in effect.

Haruhi

when the second coming happens, its mouth will look a little K-ON-esque

What hasn’t been said? Despite my last post, this is at least partially true: For most people who enjoyed the first show, it’s requisite viewing. For the rest, it’s not.

Eden of the East

I’ve fallen really far behind on this one. It remains strong in my head, and it’s the kind of show that when I do get back to it (probably this week) I won’t be able to stop until I’m caught up. Sci-fi, mystery, a hint of romance — it’s the kind of thing that doesn’t come along every season.

FMA:Brotherhood

Funimation has not made it easy to watch (their streaming site is sorely unable to handle the traffic that FMA brought), but I’m officially caught up. The waifu and I both agree that the hyper-ramped-up pace is a lot of fun to watch. The sense of scope in the Elric Brothers’ quest is lost almost completely, but that sacrifice is made in the name of pure watchability. I might not have a lot of company in this, but I’m a fan.

Hatsukoi Limited

neither rain nor sleet nor dark of night will contain misaki's breasteses

Talk about your dark horses. A JC-Staff-animated romance series just after the very good Toradora seemed too soon, but this one has delivered. You might even say it’s got a little something for everyone. Kei’s internal monologues give fascinating insight into the mind of the tsundere, Misaki provides cool and spicy, and the whole thing is just exploding with cute, engaging romantic story threads. And panties. Which helps.

Unlike the best shows of its genre, Hatsukoi doesn’t look like it’ll transcend the anime medium, but the series is doing a fantastic job within it. What I’m most thankful for is consistent payoffs. I think 12-26 episodes without a hand-hold or a kiss is a lazy trick employed by anime writers to keep people watching their poorly-conceived romantic series in anticipation of something happening; Hatsukoi keeps rewarding its characters and viewers with romantic payoff while still stringing us along brilliantly.

Noein

This isn’t current, but I recently started it, in dub, from the iTunes store. Sadly, I’m not very pumped about it. The animation is an example of Satelight’s worst offenses: a beautifully crisp, modern, computer-aided look marred by horrible anatomy and a near-perfect lack of character consistency. These are really distracting to me, but if the story picks up soon I’ll be happy to ignore them. One thing I probably won’t be able to, though: American dubs’ tendency to pronounce character names with second syllable accents, e.g., hah-ROO-ka.

Anything I’m missing? I fell off the Saki and Shangri-La wagons a while back, might try the latter again though. And I never did pick up Sengoku Basara, but I hear it’s pretty manly.

Pervasive wrongness in the Haruhisphere

I was going to write an entire post on all the reasons why Haruhi haters are in the wrong, or at least why so many aren’t using their brains. But for the most part, my arguments were boring and I want people to actually read my blog on occasion. So I’m limiting it to one particular issue — and it should work because it can be applied just as easily to the mindless fanboys on the opposite side of the fence.

you're wrong

Allow me to work my way towards my point step-by-step:

What is a parody?

There are a lot of anime adaptations of light novel series. Like manga, they seem tailor-made for it narrative-wise. Unlike manga, they leave a lot more room for interpretation. A great adaptation, whether it’s TV, theater, animation, or cinema, is like a great cover song in the musical world: It stays true to the intent or spirit of the original, but it adds something that makes the adaptation viable as an original work.

Tatsuya Ishihara and Kyoto Animation added plenty of well-realized visuals and clever directing, but more than that, the anime crew gave us the idea of Haruhi Suzumiya as a smart, tongue-in-cheek meta-anime — a commentary on the medium and a very sly parody of some of its tropes. The last time I can remember something similar so masterfully executed was the king of the meta-anime-parody Martian Successor Nadesico. And the parallels are there, to be sure: like her counterpart and equivalent Ruri, Yuki Nagato became more than just a thinly-disguised spoof of anime’s light-blue-haired monotone heroines.

ruri, just because

Since I came at Haruhi from the anime angle first, and Tanigawa’s books later, the crafty little parody aspects of the show hit me harder than some of the story or character elements. Think of episode zero for a minute. How often do you groan and hear Kyon’s voiceover in your head when you see an anime pan up to the sky?

What is moe?

ANN defines moe as:

A Japanese term used in connection with manga or anime to describe something precious, usually (but not always) the ideal of youthful and innocent femininity. Written with the kanji for “to bud or sprout” (萌), the concept covers a range of ideal behaviour for youthful female characters in manga or anime. To be moe, a character can be eager or perky, not overly independent, and call forth a desire in the viewer to protect them and nurture them.

I would have also accepted “the cancer that’s killing anime.”

blobbing

The issue of moe-ness is in itself contentious enough, since people seem to get their moe on for everything from lolis to Valkyries, but far worse is the accusation of “moe pandering.”

That term is generally used by mouth-breathers who learned the definition of “pandering” yesterday to try to invalidate the target at which it’s aimed, e.g.:

“There’s really no merit in [K-ON/Saki/Ranka/Kanon/Strike Witches/Mazinger Z], because it’s moe pandering.”

There’s no doubt that moe sells DVDs (and oppai mousepads and castoff figures and doujins and maid cafes and…), so the Uguu Menace finds its way into even the most unlikely anime these days. But the anihedron has become a dangerously thoughtless place because we see a couple characteristics of female characters and instantly accuse a show of “moe pandering.”

It can be a really harmful charge to level at an otherwise competently put together series, but more importantly it’s a reactionary judgment that arrives at the expense of real critical thinking. And while you’re having your knee-jerk, something else might be going on.

babbling

In Haruhi’s case, that something else is a walking piss-take on moe. Its name is Mikuru Asahina.

What is Mikuru?

It wasn’t always obvious what Mikuru was. I suppose I first noticed when, I dunno, I was told fairly blatantly. Haruhi’s original molestation of Mikuru included an announcement of just how moe she was, and while I guess some people see the interaction as “pandering” (an accusation that continued to get lobbed at Lucky Star’s self-referential humor), it sounded to me like the fourth wall breaking down. They even put her in a maid costume for no fucking reason. Come on.

cowering

To me, the more blobby and cowering she gets, the funnier it is. To me, the creators’ smirks are as obvious as Koizumi’s. To me, it’s a great way to make your detractors look more idiotic, even as  — here’s the rub — on one level, they might be right. For the parody to work really well, it has to be effective on its own level, and to a certain viewer class I suppose it is. But Mikuru’s a long way removed from Makoto, Misuzu, or the perpetually sickly Nagisa.

sleeping

I suppose there’s always ghostlightning’s old argument that intent is irrelevant because the only thing that matters to a final product is whatever inference the viewer/reader puts into a work. That angle would say that it’s a parody because I see it that way, while it’s pandering because someone else sees it that way.

As he knows, I don’t really buy that to any large extent — in fact, I’m willing to just say that you’re wrong and you’ve missed the point entirely. It seems as clear as the furrows on Kyon’s brow. It’s like listening to Weird Al’s “Eat It” in the 80s and saying to yourself, “I don’t get why that guy is trying so hard to cash in on Michael Jackson’s stardom by covering one of his songs.”

But. My primary point renders the argument of “Am I right about parody?” irrelevant.

What is my point?

I think when Owen S. calls people “memeparrots,” he’s referring to certain parties on either side. That means easy bandwagoning or mindless echoing of popular bloggers’ forced memes. It also means tossing unsupported accusations like “moe pandering” out there. As I like to say, absolutes are always wrong. :P

While Haruhi is quite clever, it can do wrong. Lone Island Syndrome? Kinda lame, and I hope they don’t animate its ski-trip counterpart. On the flipside, pandering does exist, but I doubt it’s the basis of everything Kyoto Animation does. I’ll give haters this: Fumoffu?! seriously pandered to my machine gun teddy-bear moe.

Dig? All coins have two sides, including Haruhi, who is at turns both God and the Devil.

haruhi is not amused

This isn’t just about Mikuru, and it isn’t just about “Bamboo Leaf Rhapsody,” or Haruhi Suzumiya. It’s about seeing things as a little more than their topmost dimension. It’s also about thinking, viewing, judging and most of all enjoying or disliking for yourself rather than sheeping your way to one side or another of an internet argument.