Anime Openings

Warning: Spoilers for Yami no Matsuei.

I read a screenwriting book once that said that everything you need to know about a TV series, you can find out by watching the opening credit sequence. If you think about it, it’s true. Who the main characters are, what kind of show it is (cop drama, medical drama, comedy, etc.), and the overall tone of the show are all presented in the opening.

It’s as true for anime as it is for American TV. In Yami no Matsuei (Descendants of Darkness), for example, the opening credit sequence tells you everything you need to know about the series in 2 minutes:

Yami no Matsuei is about shinigami (angels of death), or people who were once alive, but who now as beings in the afterlife “guide the paths of lost souls.” In the opening credit sequence above, a narrator tells us who shinigami are as we follow a long tracking shot into a building and into the offices of the afterlife’s Department of Summons. We get our first look at the protagonist, standing (mundanely enough) at a copy machine. The sequence then moves to images of young boys in creepy scenes with dolls and looking alone and abandoned (the two boys shown are actually the antagonist, Muraki, and the protagonist Tsuzuki, in scenes that hint at their troubled pasts). Shinigami fight spirit dragons in a dark landscape; Muraki gloats; Tsuzuki lies naked and vulnerable; and finally, the opening credit sequence ends on a startling shot of Tsuzuki embracing Hisoka, a shinigami who was raped and murdered by Muraki as a human being in the real world.

It should be obvious after watching these first two minutes that if you’re looking for something to entertain your eight-year-old, Yami no Matsuei is not Pokemon, and you should probably be looking for something else for your child to watch. You may not be interested in shinigami, or themes of corruption of innocence and homoeroticism, but after viewing the opening credit sequence for this series you can hardly say you weren’t warned. ;)

Sometimes in anime they take a different tack, and the opening credit sequence presents something totally different from the series itself, becoming a little work of art on its own merits. The Tower of Druaga: Aegis of Uruk and its sequel series The Tower of Druaga: Sword of Uruk are both set in a medieval-type universe with a young hero, Jil. However, instead of showing clips of Jil in this medieval universe, the opening credit sequences show Jil as an ordinary schoolboy in contemporary Japan: waking up to face his day, eating breakfast, getting on the train, etc.

The other characters from the series appear as family members at the breakfast table or as people on the street, while armored soldiers of the medieval universe are passengers on the trains and dragons roam the Tokyo cityscape outside the train windows. Production credits appear scribbled on breakfast eggs and on a piece of toast, on the sides of buildings, the back of a bus, the train station floor, etc., all going by at lightning speed. Kenn, the voice actor for Jil, has his name etched in English at the front gate of his house (and there are probably other in-jokes I’m not catching because I don’t read Japanese). Towards the end of the opening credit sequence we finally see Jil and Kaaya in the universe the story actually takes place in, dressed in medieval clothes, gazing at a waterfall. But the very end sees them as schoolchildren in Japan again, sitting in a train station under a poster that advertises… The Tower of Druaga.

The sequel series, Sword of Uruk, opens in much the same manner:

Scenes from Aegis of Uruk play in a movie theater, while the patrons throw things at Jil, who stands blocking the screen. The opening credit sequence ends with a baseball game, where this time Jil’s voice actor gets his name inked on the back of his uniform jersey. The pitcher in the game is Jil’s brother Neeba. Neeba is played by voice actor Takahiro Sakurai, and at the end we see his name, “Takahiro,” in English, across the front of his jersey. Again, no indication that the story actually takes place in a medieval universe.

The tone of the two openings is light-hearted and accompanied by cheery upbeat J-pop music, while the tone of both series – particularly toward the end of Sword of Uruk – is actually pretty dark. I’m not sure what the makers of The Tower of Druaga were thinking when they created these two opening credit sequences, but to be honest, if they’d used as much creativity for the actual series themselves, The Tower of Druaga would have been a great anime instead of just a good one. At the very least though, one has to admire the freedom and license that Japanese anime creators and producers have in – seemingly – being able to do pretty much anything they want to in their work.

Anime Girls and Women - Part II

Warning: Spoilers for Bleach and Mobile Suit Gundam Seed.

When I first began watching anime, there was a certain type of female character that literally set my teeth on edge: the ultra-shy girl or young woman who would speak in a very soft and high-pitched voice. These girls irritated me to no end, and anime seemed to be full of them. I found myself naturally gravitating to the tomboy characters, the girls who spoke their mind and could kick tail when required.

To be honest, today – with several years of anime fandom under my belt – I still don’t care much for the traditional, ultra-feminine type of female character. But there are two such characters that changed my mind, at least a little.

In Bleach, Orihime Inoue is a pretty teenage girl who was orphaned at a young age and raised by her doting older brother. After her brother dies, Orihime becomes friends with Ichigo Kurosaki – the protagonist of Bleach – and develops special powers of healing with light and shielding others from harm. Next to Rukia, the shinigami with great fighting abilities, Orihime seems like a shy, hesitant girl, one who would always need protecting by others. But there is another side to her.

In a recent episode from the main storyline, Orihime is being held prisoner by the renegade ex-Soul Society Captain Aizen, and two of Aizen’s girl soldiers, Loly and Menoly, chase Orihime down, taunt her, and proceed to beat her up. She is unexpectedly rescued by Grimmjow, one of Aizen’s most powerful lieutenants. Once Grimmjow has dealt some physical punishment to Loly and Menoly, he orders Orihime to come with him. But first, Orihime walks over to the two girls, who are lying on the floor. The one who is still conscious is terrified and, covering up her fear with a show of rage, strikes Orihime again. Orihime then, using her special powers… heals both Loly and Menoly of their injuries before leaving with Grimmjow.

It’s probably not something you would see Rukia doing. Rukia, the shinigami who initiates Ichigo into his status as a soul reaper, would certainly refrain from taking revenge on the two girls, but she probably wouldn’t heal them either, if she had healing abilities. What Orihime does, in turning around and helping the two people that just seriously harmed her, is much harder than that. It’s literally turning the other cheek, and "praying for those who despitefully use you,” something that requires a spiritual grounding, advanced maturity, and great inner strength.

Mobile Suit Gundam Seed is an amazing anime and one that I will write more about in future, either in this blog or in my review column at BayAnime.com. It features a huge cast of characters and a sprawling storyline, impossible to condense here, but it’s basically about four teenagers in a future version of Earth. Kira and Athrun are childhood friends who find themselves torn apart by circumstances and destined to fight against each other on opposite sides of a vicious war. Cagalli is the tomboyish fighter girl who is on Kira’s side of the war; and Lacus Clyne is Athrun’s fiancée.

Kira and Lacus are the gentle souls in the story, while the austere, reserved Athrun and forthright Cagalli are the tough-minded ones. The story begins with Kira and Cagalli being paired up together, and Athrun with Lacus; but it ends with the more sensible pairings of Kira and Lacus, and Athrun and Cagalli. (It also doesn’t hurt that it’s revealed late in the series that – ala Luke and Leia – Kira and Cagalli are actually twins that were separated at birth.)

Cagalli is the fighter pilot girl, while Lacus Clyne – the daughter of an important politician and herself a galactic celebrity singer – is the one with the soft features, long pink hair and bouffant princess dress. While Cagalli is unafraid to get physical (notably in several confrontations with Athrun on a deserted island) and show anger, Lacus always speaks sweetly and calmly. But despite her overly-traditional feminine presentation, she is no pushover and nobody’s doormat.

Lacus meets Kira when her escape pod is picked up by Kira’s ship. She becomes acquainted with his gentle nature, and after Kira returns her to Athrun, she tells Athrun that Kira is a “very kind and strong person.” Later, Kira is thought to have been killed, but he is actually being nursed back to health in secret by Lacus. During his recovery, Kira realizes that he must return to the battlefield; that he can’t stand by and do nothing. Lacus accepts his decision calmly, then gives him the “Freedom,” her people’s latest version of mecha fighter, effectively betraying her side of the war. “Will you be all right?” Kira asks, as he prepares to leave. “I will be singing the song of peace,” she replies.

Athrun is informed that Lacus has committed treason, and is on the run. He goes to the theatre where she was to sing her song of peace, and finds her singing the song on stage in the deserted theatre. Remaining serene as Athrun confronts her, Lacus asks him, “What do you believe in and fight for, Athrun?” She pushes him emotionally, saying further, “If I become your enemy, would you shoot me?” making a shaky Athrun literally back away from her. Government troops enter the theatre, and Lacus is defended by a small band of renegade soldiers. She then takes her leave of her former fiancé, stating that Kira is on Earth. “Why don’t you try talking with him?” she suggests with a smile, as she leaves the theatre with her men.

In these examples, two characters with traditionally feminine characteristics show great inner strength and courage. Orihime forgives and heals the ones who hurt her; and Lacus Clyne abandons her sheltered life and makes a courageous choice, one from which there is no turning back. When Kira takes the Freedom and leaves, Lacus doesn’t cling to him or cry; and when she confronts Athrun after committing treason, she doesn’t feel the need to try to convince him of the rightness of her actions, saying simply that the Freedom was something that Kira needed. Both Kira and Athrun, the main characters in Gundam Seed, are changed forever by their relationships with Lacus Clyne.

What I took from these examples is that the characters that are initially presented in stereotypical fashion can turn out to surprise you; and that traditionally feminine characters can show strength in their own way that equals or even surpasses that of the tomboy female characters.

All told, however, I do prefer to see my female characters do a little tail-kicking. ;) In the end, I am a shonen fan at heart.

Anime Girls and Women - Part I

Recently I’ve begun watching the anime The Prince of Tennis. It’s about Ryoma Echizen, a 12-year-old tennis prodigy, and his adventures in his school’s tennis club.

In the first episode, Ryoma is riding on the subway to a tennis competition. Three bullies are standing in the aisle, and one of them swings a tennis racket which comes dangerously close to hitting Sakuno, a young girl who is sitting on the bench seat directly across from Ryoma. As the bully repeatedly swings the racket and brags in a loud voice, Sakuno cringes in her seat, mewing in fear – but she doesn’t move to another seat and doesn’t say anything.

Ryoma tells the bully he’s being loud, and further mocks him for using tennis terms incorrectly. At the station, Ryoma casually asks Sakuno where the tennis school is. Sakuno exclaims, “Oh, you’re from the train!” She then apologizes, and says she’s also going to the tennis competition, that it’s her first time watching a tennis match, etc. Ryoma asks again where the school is, and Sakuno apologizes again. She then proceeds to accidentally give him the wrong directions.

When Sakuno finds out she gave Ryoma the wrong directions, she frantically goes to look for him. Finding him relaxing in the grass near the tennis courts, he tells her that he defaulted in the first match for being five minutes late. Sakuno looks devastated and apologizes to Ryoma for a third time, accompanied by a deep bow.

Ryoma buys two sodas from a vending machine, as Sakuno waits with her head meekly lowered. As he hands her a soda, Sakuno (for the fourth time) apologizes, saying she didn’t have any change.

Does anyone beside me see anything strange with this picture? This is a boy and girl of equal age. Granted, The Prince of Tennis is about Ryoma – the boy – his teammates and their adventures in competitive tennis, and not about the differences between boys and girls, but… Ryoma is confident, cocky even, with open body language, at ease in his own skin; while Sakuno – whenever she isn’t cringing or apologizing – is the picture of shyness, awkwardness and insecurity. Her voice is like a six-year-old’s (she’s 12), and she’s depicted as being perpetually wide-eyed, with her mouth hanging open in a little “o,” in what must be somebody’s idea of what an adorable schoolgirl is supposed to be like.

The Prince of Tennis is, of course, a shonen series. It’s a story about boys and the focus isn’t on Sakuno or the other girls at all. But this starkly-presented example of the difference in “normal” behavior in a Japanese boy and a Japanese girl got me thinking about how anime and manga often present female characters in some dichotomized fashion.

There are shonen series that try to present females as males’ equals—but even they often show females as representing only one quality or another (as opposed to a character who is allowed to show a wider range of thoughts, emotions, actions and reactions). In Bleach, for example, out of the 13 Soul Society captains there are two women. Unohana is very traditionally female; her role is as a healer of others, and if she has any offensive fighting capabilities I have yet to see them in the series. Soi Fon, the other female captain, is very much the opposite of Unohana. Soi Fon is small and deadly, enjoys combat, relishes triumphing over her opponents and is the fighting equal of any of the male captains.

Soi Fon is the successor to Yoruichi, a former captain. Yoruichi is an extraordinary fighter like Soi Fon, but like Unohana she can also display a woman’s sensitivity when relating to others. (She also radiates sex appeal—unlike either the maternal Unohana or the fierce and scary Soi Fon.) Yoruichi, along with Rukia, is probably the closest thing to a fully-realized female character in Bleach.

And then I began to think about anime and manga stories that feature another typical dichotomy for female characters: the shy, traditionally feminine girl who speaks in a high-pitched whisper-soft voice versus the “tomboy” girl who’s more capable and direct in her attitude, less emotional, more physical and who can fight alongside the boys.

In Bleach, Orihime and Rukia came to mind; and also Lacus Clyne and Cagalli in Mobile Suit Gundam Seed. I'll post some of my thoughts on these characters next week.

New Column on BayAnime.com

I’m pleased to announce that my new column, “Jan’s Anime and Manga Picks,” will be featured each week on BayAnime.com.

BayAnime.com is the San Francisco Bay Area’s online resource and community for fans of anime, manga, and Japanese pop culture.

I’ll be reviewing some of my favorite anime and manga in my column. My first review is of Sword of the Stranger, the recent anime feature film from Bandai Entertainment.

Bookmark the site at: http://bayanime.com.

Regular content-driven posts resume next week. ;)