My Problem with Anime

As of now, I’ve lived in Japan as an English Teacher for a year and two months. My job involves educating the nation's youth on the “joys of learning English”. Whether they’re teaching me more about Japan and the Japanese language is a completely different matter. Yet it’s clearly evident that my preconceived knowledge and understanding of the country’s modern culture was and still is pretty terrible. 

I was exposed to the likes of Godzilla, Ultraman and Doraemon at a relatively young age, most of which remains relatively fresh in my memory. Heck, my first trip to Disneyland was actually in Tokyo, where I shook the hand of a Japanese Mickey Mouse whom I couldn’t understand a single word. Soon my primary/ elementary school days were awash with the likes of Pokemon, Gundam Wing and Dragonball Z which would abruptly end during my teens, I’m not entirely sure why but I seem to recall video games consuming most my free time. 

It’s only been over the last five years that I’ve built a steady awareness and subsequent interest in Japan’s animated medium, know as anime. Being introduced to Studio Ghibli offered an assessable gateway into the sights and sounds that were on show, and I’ve formed a strong relationship with Ghibli’s work as you may know. From there Akira, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, Tokyo Godfathers and Azumanga Daioh have highlighted some of the best the genre has offered. Yet from an outsiders’ perspective, wadding through the tidal wave of new series each year and the extensive back catalogue is a monumental and impossible task. Even as someone who occasionally watches new anime, I feel completely out of my depth when someone starts discusses it. I seem to recall the last time being aggressively belittled after I stated that Attack on Titan was “an overrated pile of crap”, which it is. 

There’s an obvious breadth of creativity to the medium that as spawned a barrage of personalities, stories and fictional worlds that have been met with mixed success. Yet one thing’s for sure, there’s plenty of choice; high school dramas, alien invasions, psychological thrillers an straight-up pornography, there’s something for everyone. Yet for all its popularity and impact on Japanese culture and modern pop culture in general, my cynical sensibilities have grown over the pass two years. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy anime, certain anime. But those few series represent a minuscule percentage of what's actually available. The incessant moaning from students and friends on my critical nature towards anime is one that has justified me writing this article. 

There are definitely plenty of problems with the medium but I’ll be highlighting the four major problems that have become prevalent from my “observations”;

-Accessibility

-The Actual Characters

-Originality and Fan-service

-Anime’s “dark and twisted side”

Noteworthy Films of 2014: The Wind Rises

2014 proved to be a turbulent and worrying time for Studio Ghibli. Miyazaki’s “official” retirement,  and the studio’s announcement of radical in-house changes prompted fans to fear the worst. Yet it was a relatively busy period for Ghibli with the releases of The Tale of Princess Kaguya and The Wind Rises in the west and the unfortunately disappointing When Marnie Was Here in Japan. Being a massive fan of their work, it was slightly shocking to read the headlines so soon after their recent accession to the global limelight. It’s therefore fortunate that Miyazaki’s long, acclaimed career ends on a distinguished high with The Wind Rises. 

A story of perseverance, drama and romance amidst pre-war Japan, The Wind Rises continues Ghibli’s more realistic and grounded approach to it’s narratives. While definitely more light-hearted than Grave of the Fireflies, The Wind Rises still touches on some very mature themes even with it’s undercurrent of humour and tenderness. While it avoids to really delve into the heavy themes of war as Japanese cinema tends to do (my article), and constitutes more of a fictionalised version of Jiro Horikoshi’ s career in Japanese military aviation, the story is a thought-provoking and genuinely poignant one. 

The flowing and dynamic nature of the studio’s iconic animation style is present as always. With the aeronautical nature of the story, the sense of speed and fragility as prototype aircraft tear the skies is exhilarating and gorgeous to watch. Body language and interactions are intricately depicted giving vast amounts of personality to the characters and film in general. As with all their previous films it’s the small details that really add uniqueness to Ghibli’s work. Whether it’s their careful attention to a bookcase in the background or the light glistening off the sea, their pursuit for perfection is evident. As too is Joe Hisaishi’s impassioned score. 

Apart from a rather rushed conclusion, The Wind Rises is a touching and beautiful piece of cinema.   With a career spanning 5 decades, Hayao Miyazaki has continued to deliver heart-warming and enchanting stories and characters to fans of animation and general cinema. I have a sneaky suspicion that this won’t necessarily be the last we see from him, but looking back it’s been an esteemed career that will entertain and captivate children and audiences forever. 

The Long Awaited Update

Since moving to Japan my cinema-going days have been drastically cut to the point where I rarely have the opportunity to watch the latest releases. My love and passion for film still remains and I regularly keep up to date with regards to the news in the industry and upcoming features. But I’m afraid to say that my fortnightly cinema days are over. You may have also noticed that I have failed to write anything for the blog in nearly a year. As you can imagine, my new job and life in Japan have become the centre of my attention. It’s a shame because I love to write and talk about cinema. 

However, as a result of settling into my employment and my current situation, I have decided to return to the world of “blogging”, in a somewhat smaller sense. I will therefore be trying to update on a semi-regular basis with mini-reviews and mini-features. The first will be a series on “noteworthy” films of 2014 that I managed to watch. Obviously with the lack of access to the front-runners and nominees of Award Season, the list won’t be a comprehensive one but will cover some of the more major releases.

As an example of my recent decline in “cinema-visiting” form, here is a list of films that I desperately want to watch, but with Japanese releases and the extortionate price of media it’s proving to be rather difficult: 

Foxcatcher  

Birdman 

Whiplash 

Selma 

Ida 

Two Days, One Night

Inherent Vice

The Babadook 

A Most Violent Year 

Locke

Boyhood 

Snowpiercer 

Hopefully I’ll be able to catch them in the near future, but for the time I’ll have to suffice with what is readily available and obviously what I've already seen.

Best regards, 

Jack Singleton 

Jiro Dreams of Sushi Review

Telling the tale of the Jiro Ono, a sushi master and owner of the prestigious Sukiyabashi Jiro restaurant in Ginza, Tokyo, Jiro Dreams of Sushi explores the stern philosophy and ideology behind making the world’s finest sushi. Not simply a biographically based documentary, Jiro examines and questions every element of Japan’s most famous delicacy from the perspective of one of the oldest sushi shokunin. From the personalities that source and purchase the ingredients, to the people who critique it, the film like its centred character is methodical and meticulous in its efforts to convey the convictions and mentality of the “art” and its “master”. The stern and uncomfortable stares in the introduction soon unravels into a warm and light-hearted experience that manages to capture the quintessence of perfectionism and discipline. 

Amidst the salivating imagery and Jiro’s sentiment, there’s a strong layer of social commentary, especially on the youth that had a resonance with myself. Questioning Japan’s struggle to retain its traditional ideals and values, Jiro’s concept of his country’s modernity is an interesting one. Likewise the paranoia surrounding the restaurant’s fate and legacy when Jiro passes the torch is perfectly handled in the honest and “personal” nature of the interviews. It’s much more than a documentary about sushi. However at 82 minutes Jiro’s content starts to stretch by the end, which is inevitable with a film that doesn’t rely on a strict chronology to its events. Consequently the documentary, at times, feels slightly disjointed jumping back and forth between elements. Yet Gelb manages to retain the charm and charisma that surprisingly persists from the characters and personalities. 

Visually, Jiro is superb. Influenced by the BBC’s award-winning documentary series Planet Earth, Gelb uses slow-motion, time-lapses and other techniques, both with the camera and in the 10 month editing span, to great affect. While it can become overzealous in its artistic approach, but the intricacies and attention to detail is impressive. Like the sushi, there’s a simplistic and natural  that really personifies the film and subject. Similarly the orchestral scores of Philip Glass, Bach and Max Richter offers the crescendos and repetition that Jiro hold his own work to, his daily routine and demands for self-improvement. 

Jiro is delightfully simple and pure in its approach, perfectly translating Jiro’s ideology to sushi and life onto screen. Beautifully shot and edited, David Gelb’s first “major” release is a success that resonates through the audience’s smiles and stomachs.  

8/10

Japanese Animation, the Pacific War and the Atomic Bomb

Japanese Animation, the Pacific War and the Atomic Bomb 

The tagline of the 1988 cult film Akira, ‘Neo-Tokyo is about to E.X.P.L.O.D.E’, exemplifies the manner in which the memories of World War II remain embedded in Japanese animation and culture. It was during the Post-War era that anime and manga became established in Japan’s society. The 1960s saw a wave of popular manga artists and writers such as Osamu Tezuka begin to explore the events of the 1940s through their work, which has subsequently influenced generations of artistic talent. While Japanese cinema may have become the main channel for creating a national identity, many directors have tended to steer clear of the controversial nature of 1945. Nevertheless, while some films like Grave of the Fireflies directly recount the tragedy, the events of Hiroshima and Nagasaki have left a legacy that has inspired various manga and anime.

Adapted from Katsuhiro Otomo’s influential manga series, Akira deals with global conflict, social disintegration and anarchistic youth, all in a futuristic and apocalyptic setting. It’s a complex narrative that looks deeply at philosophical and psychological themes, but undoubtedly draws heavily from Japan’s experience during the 1940s and 50s, e.g. the opening shot of Tokyo being destroyed by an ‘atomic-like’ blast directly references the dropping of the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Meanwhile, the representation of corruption within power and a government that fails to recognise modern methods harks back to similar issues during WWII. The film also conveys a constant atmosphere of fear that not only contaminates Neo-Tokyo but also the entire fictional world, mirroring the global reaction to America’s ‘atomic power’. Another franchise that draws similar influences is Neon Genesis Evangelion. Yet, while Akira concentrates on the ‘fall of humanity’ at humanity’s own hands, Evangelion conceals its portrayal of atomic destruction with the use of an extra-terrestrial invasion – with religious symbolism also present. However, it still follows a similar tapestry to Otomo’s creation with its depiction of a government in disarray and a society suffering from an over-zealous military. Evangelion’s main characters come in the form of 14-year-old children thrust into a world at war, without parents for guidance or protection. Both these films aim to replicate the consequences of war from young perspectives, often a key trait in anime.

In stark contrast, the Pacific War’s profound and horrifying effect on Japan has been portrayed more forthrightly, realistically and emotionally in family-orientated films. Rather than censoring events, animation studios such as Studio Ghibli have retold stories and experiences in their true light. Hayao Miyazaki introduces the themes of war and humanity’s destructive tendencies in his films Howl’s Moving Castle and Laputa: Castle in the Sky, showing the heavy handed tactics of the military. However, two films stand out as being highly instrumental examples of ‘post-war’ animated cinema: Ghibli’s Grave of the Fireflies and Mori Masaki’s Barefoot Gen.

Grave of the Fireflies takes a heartfelt approach to storytelling, set in a very ‘real’ world, with ‘real’ characters. Loosely based on Akiyuki Nosaka’s own experiences, director Isao Takahata shrugs off the child-friendly constraints of Studio Ghibli and really emphasises the devastating impact of war on the innocent and on the human condition. Following Setsuko and her older brother Seita, Grave of the Fireflies doesn’t shy away from scenes of horrifying violence and distressing events of abandonment and helplessness, all of which involve children. Moments of humanity and contentment are built from Ghibli’s beautiful portrayal of nature, culminating in the imagery of the fireflies. Though these are few and far between – the constant threat of bombers lingers throughout the film, representing the endless firebombing of Japanese cities and towns during the war.

An equally important and influential take on ‘victim history’ is Barefoot Gen, originally a manga series written by Keiji Nakazawa, a Hiroshima survivor. The 1983 animated film follows a young boy, Gen, as he deals with the tragic loss of his family during the bombing. In contrast to the tearful sympathy and the overriding sense of despair and powerlessness that Grave of the Fireflies creates,Barefoot Gen achieves an unconquerable sense of resilience and leadership, whilst directly tackling the horrendous bombing of Hiroshima. Its grotesque and apocalyptic portrayal of the disaster creates a haunting and disturbing vision of ‘Hell’, one that live-action films would fail to depict as powerfully. However, intertwined with its brutality are genuine moments of triumph and hope; friendships are forged in the barrenness of Hiroshima. But whilst both directors have crafted sharply different narratives, there are still visible morals that they both address; actively showing the pain, terror and reality of war, but also questioning the Japanese Government’s late surrender, rather then pointing the blame squarely at America.

Overall, Japanese anime has tended to focus on creating social and individual identities through ‘slice of life’ dramas and fantasy adventures. Yet historically, Japan’s twentieth century remains largely untouched in the world of animation, particularly when compared to its ‘samurai’ past.  Akira and Evangelion offer examples of how Japan’s heedful nature has used the cover of sci-fiction/fantasy to portray the events of WWII, whilst the emotive and elegiac manner of Grave of the Fireflies and Barefoot Gen has enabled these films to truly narrate the past. But it still remains clear that Japan’s experiences during the Pacific War have had a profound effect on its animated culture, as well as its national identity.

(Originally on Impact Magazine website: 2011)

Personal Favourites: Hana-bi

Hana-bi 

Many will recognise Takeshi Kitano as the teacher from 2000’s Battle Royale (another great film). However his skills in the director’s chair have failed to be appreciated overseas. Hana-bi follows the tragic story of police detective Nishi, played by Kitano himself. He has suffered the recent loss of his infant daughter and cares for his wife, Miyuki, who has Leukaemia. He owes money to the local Yakuza, and is burdened with guilt for causing his friend’s crippling accident, which results in Nishi’s retirement. Takeshi Kitano’s ability to portray the complexities and frailties of Nishi is astonishing. The sudden shifts from his emotionless and quiet exterior, to a brutal, hard-boiled individual are breathtaking and shocking. 

From a director’s point of view, Hana-bi is very minimalist but expressive. Dialogue takes a back seat, with there being a greater emphasis on visual story-telling. The romantic relationship between Nishi and his wife, has a ‘silent film’ quality, with the two rarely engaging in discussion. However, it is through their physical, almost child-like, interactions that we really get a sense of their love. The use of expansive shots of the Japanese landscape interspersed with Kitano’s personal artwork create a sense of lyrical ‘poetry’. Furthermore, Joe Hisaishi’s score complements the cinematography superbly, putting real emotion into each scene. 

Hana-bi is a subtle yet powerfully moving film. Takeshi Kitano proves that there is more to Japanese cinema than samurai and cutesy animated creatures. Brilliantly acted and magnificently directed, a true gem. 

Check out my other 'Personal Favourites' in the Features section.