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More than just a captivating action anime, Jujutsu Kaisen is a potent meditation on trauma, fear, and grief. The idea that negative emotions, such as pain and resentment, can literally materialize into curses is one of the main themes. When you consider Japan's cultural emphasis on repressing emotions in order to maintain social harmony, that idea strikes particularly hard. This concept is reversed in the anime, which claims that unsaid pain festers and grows instead of going away. This message seems equally relevant on a global scale. Mental health issues affect people all over the world, and Jujutsu Kaisen transforms those internal conflicts into physical form. I can relate to the show because it avoids romanticizing loss or suffering. After losing those he cares about, Yuji Itadori is always wondering what it means to live a good life. I believe that many of us experience that internal conflict—wanting to do the right thing but not always knowing how—especially in college when we're still developing our identities. The program also highlights how our relationships—friends, mentors, and even adversaries—influence our development. Seeing the characters persevere in the face of their trauma serves as a reminder to me that resilience is about learning to move forward while bearing the burden, not about being emotionless. Jujutsu Kaisen links this anime to texts about identity and accountability by posing the same queries: Who am I when no one is looking? In a world full of suffering, what am I supposed to do? This anime questions the notion that having power automatically makes one good, much like the readings that examine duty and selfhood. Rather, it emphasizes choice and how individuals choose to behave in high-stakes situations. Jujutsu Kaisen is ultimately about facing our inner darkness and deciding to protect others despite the fact that it isn't just about fighting monsters.

My god, what a work of fiction. For one, allow me to get out a thought that has been haunting me ever since the introductory credits rolled- Violet’s own name. Now, I understand that it might be a bit of a low-brow assertion to make, but I implore you to follow along with me and suspend your disbelief for just a moment. Violet, the word “violet”, phonetically sounds VERY similar to vio-LENCE, for good reason obviously, as I’m sure you’ve begun to think, seeing as how they share many of the same letters. However, “read” and “read” are the SAME word, but sound radically different, as do “rouge” and “rouge” - a handsome “rouge” and the color “rouge”, respectively. I make mention of this because Violet is herself, very nearly indistinguishable from violence. A child soldier, raised in the ways of warfare, some would argue, even engineered by it, now faces a world that has no need for her any more, a largely peaceful land, fertile, lush and rich with life, perpetually green. This “Violet”, must shed vio-LENCE, and learn to inhabit a world of ever-gardens. Beautiful, no?

The anime’s handling of the innate traumas that come with being a child soldier, the training that one must be subject to in order to survive such an ordeal, time and time again, both physically and mentally, is stellar. When we are first introduced to Violet, it would appear she has no identity outside of being a warrior, her first instinct is to seek her commanding officer, to prostrate herself before his authority and operate, not as an individual who is a member of an armed force, but rather, a tool- a tool to be used in any way seen fit by those who one views as superior. It would appear that war has rid Violet of any desire to be anything but an extension of warfare, greeting her new patrons with a military salute, standing at parade rest when in the midst of being offered a softer, peaceful life, and even addressing individuals in a matter-of-fact way, as one would expect a junior officer to address a CO.

The entire length of the anime chronicles how Violet fails to see any innate value within herself that does not involve violence or her commanding officer in some way- she constantly attributes effectively everything in her life to being the result of an authority’s role in her life, attributing herself no agency whatsoever outside of executing commands, and as such, fails to find any reason to stay alive after the end of the war, explicitly requesting to be cast to the side, as she has failed to be useful.

This parallels the struggles that military members face when returning to civilian life, the rigor and structure of the military, having overridden their psychology as it was designed to do, now has no place in their new world, and the process of shedding something that was ingrained within you by force and then reinforced time and time again over the course of several years is an arduous task, and one that can be likened to taking scrap metal, forging it into a sword, melting it down, forging it again, repeating the process until it becomes nigh-unbreakable, then tossing it to the side, expecting it to become scrap metal again on it’s own.

Equal parts heart-breaking and thrilling, this anime whisked me off my feet, then proceeded to kick me in the sternum- and God save me, I love it all the more for it.

Akira is a film that applies to many themes from this course, such as control over children, discrimination, and different internal domains of power. I was able to draw connections from the messages of Akira with some of the other assigned films from this class.

Almost immediately off the bat, the viewer learns that the Japanese government in this futuristic version of Tokyo- which is referred to as Neo-Tokyo- frequently conducts inhuman lab experiments on children for them to carry out "godlike" tasks. Instantly, I thought of Shin Sekai Yori, which admittedly was a bit different in its treatment of children; however, the two forms shared similar themes on the surveillance of children. The differences between these seemed stark at first but became increasingly similar as the plot of Akira unfolded. While Shin Sekai Yori began with child surveillance, Akira started with lab experimentation and evolved into child surveillance and control, which is not quite the same thing. However, once Tetsuo's superhuman abilities were revealed, the government treated him as something dangerous and similar to Shonen A. It was then in the movie that I asked myself, "How would the government change how it surveilled adolescents?" Once the government realized they could not control Tetsuo, they attempted to terminate him and ultimately failed. I noticed that Tetsuo was also meant to be exploited in ways that reminded me of Shinji from Neon Genesis Evangelion. This demonstrates the government's internal sphere of power it holds over the people in this futuristic time with evolved technology. Unlike Psycho-Pass, the government in this film exerted its power through brute force rather than psychologically, which is evident through the heavy insertion of assault weapons throughout the movie.

Tetsuo is similar to Shinji in ways more than one. I noticed the parallels between the two in the ways that they both house their own internal dilemmas. While Shinji internally struggles with his queer masculinity, Tetsuo struggles with harnessing his unique abilities. Although a lot of Tetsuo's struggles may root from his powers themselves, I would like to argue that his perspective of himself may very well be heavily affected by the treatment of the government, as stated above. Tetsuo is treated as both a god and an animal, but never as a human by the internal societal powers he is subjected to. In this way, he is similar to Naruto from Naruto, who is viewed as a monster just because the spirit of the nine-tailed fox resides inside of his body. While Tetsuo may struggle under the pressure of his abilities, the way that he is being hunted and treated by the government is likely contributing to a major sense of self-isolation and feelings of alienation.

Akira is definitely an appropriate film to wrap this course up with. There are so many aspects of it to analyze and connect with the learnings of the class. Additionally, the plot is amazing and keeps you interested; I consider it to be a must-watch classic for all avid anime watchers.

When going into this anime, I had little to no idea of what to expect. It was an interesting watch, but a little difficult to follow at points. I found myself laughing at how Italy was being treated throughout the show as the punching bag. However, if some of my Italian friends saw this representation of their country I doubt they would find it as funny. Some of the imagery, such as the backgrounds within the episodes, were really well made as metaphors. One such instance of this is the island that Italy, Germany, and Japan find themselves trapped on. This being the metaphorical isolation the countries found themselves on during World War Two. Furthering this idea, the show is a parody of many world events and the stereotypes of the countries. This is shown with the interactions between the countries within the show. With Germany being the stoic, hardworking country whereas Italy would be more of a carefree type of country. One criticism that I had when watching the show is that it felt like they made a joke of the World Wars. Now I understand that the countries were make as a parody of actual events, but it still does not feel like they put respect on that history. On a lighter note, I believe that they balanced the stereotypes of each country quite well and the history behind the creation of each was done well similarly. I believe that there is some merit in creating shows like these as it allows for lessons in history while also having fun with it. The storylines were a bit jumbled, but well thought out and executed. I found myself unable to guess what would happen next and I really enjoyed that type of storytelling. It was a good watch and I believe that I was able to appreciate how it told history.

One of my all-time favorite animes, this movie is about two main characters that switched bodies. Taki Tachibana and Mitsuha Miyamizu have to find each other to get their souls back to their respective bodies, but this quest is more than just getting the bodies back to normal. For them, it’s something deeper.

The movie mainly addresses the power of fated love and its struggles. Foucault talks about this from his article of power relations. He said that power relations are “intentional and nonsubjective,” and are “imbued with calculation.” What Foucault said sums up the plot of the movie. Tachibana and Miyamizu found themselves in their bodies, and somehow they feel connected. However, not everything is smooth for these two. In fact, Foucault mentioned that power relations are always filled with “points of resistance.” Tachibana and Miyamizu find themselves in a race against time in their path of trying to find each other, with no recollection in between their body swaps. Thus, they have to try to pick up the pieces of where they had left off to meet each other, and simultaneously save the village from the comet. When I think about their situation, I thought of something similar to Romeo and Juliet’s. Although the conflicts differ from each media, the main concept still applies. Furthermore, this applies to real life circumstances of destined love, including busy jobs, schedules, etc. It can be hard to balance daily life with dating, and even though it is burdensome, hopefully it will work out. 

Additional real life issues that the movie addresses are monolithic gender and job stagnation. Miyamizu said that she wanted to be a boy in Tokyo… and she did. This is because she is disillusioned with her current status as a shrine maiden because of the expectations brought upon her. What is interesting about this is that Miyamizu’s frustration reminds me of Aggretsuko. We know Retsuko’s work situation, venting her anger at a karaoke and other things. The difference is that Miyamizu actually got what she wanted, and she experimented doing different activities while being stuck in Tachibana’s body (vice versa too with Tachibana). And I think this experimentation is similar to what the main character of Wandering Son did when exploring her gender identity. I brought these issues up because they can apply to frustrations of people being burdened of trying to live up to cultural, societal, and gender expectations like Miyamizu did. 

What I love about this movie is how emotionally tense and heartfelt of the interactions between Tachibana and Miyamizu. For those who are still single (like me), we can learn from this movie is that there is always that someone who will love you not matter what you are, and it all takes is patience and knowledge to create a relationship.

While watching a selection for the cut scenes from Xenoblade Chronicles II, it was interesting to see how pieces of a video game could be woven into a film. I haven’t played any of the Xenoblade Chronicles games and in the other games that I’ve played, I usually have enjoyed the gameplay more than the cut scenes. When I go to play a video game, I’m looking for more of a participatory experience rather than a passive one. For that I’d be inclined turn to a TV show or movie. That said, my interest is peaked now and I’m curious about what the Xenoblade Chronicles II experience would be like when such extensive cut scenes are mixed in with gameplay. I think I’ll have to give it a try.

The bits of the story that were in the selected scenes weave a detailed narrative full of mystery and action. Environmental commentary is clearly one of the major themes and shows up in many ways. One interesting aspect was the connection between the people and the Titans. In the world of the game, people travel and live on the backs of these gigantic sentient beings. This reminded me of our own existence on Earth, riding through space on a living planet. For many thousands of years, humans have personified the natural world, imbuing oceans, rivers and mountains with personality and agency. Xenoblade Chronicles takes this further, making the Titans active participants in characters’ lives. The connection between the Titans and the Earth as our home is made even more clear at the end of the game when all the titans come together to form a new continent.

Going into this movie, I had no idea of what to expect. Needless to say, I was blown away and enjoyed the movie a lot. I was very happy by the visuals of the movie and I was surprised that Hayao Miyazaki had directed this movie. The reason being that I had never heard of it before. The big critique that this movie had was about how humanity is destroying the world with pollution. However, I was surprised that the civilization was destroyed not by bombs, but by giant beings. I believe it was pushed in this direction because the giant beings, although made by machines, were mostly organic. Moreover, they also add to the pollution of the world in how they die. They turn into stone like beings, unable to ever give nutrients back to the soil. Thus, ending the cycle of how everything returns to mother earth. I believe that there was an importance placed this organic property. This could tie into how the old world was destroyed by organic beings and the new world also suffers similarly. This also ties into the critique in how humanity is now destroying the new world. Humanity doing this by trying to destroy the toxic jungle. This jungle being the saving grace of the world in how it cleans the soil. This was shown in how Nausicaä grows the plants with good soil and water. The plants are no longer toxic towards animals and living beings. When watching this movie, I noticed a lot of similarities with how Nausicaä treated the Ohmu and how a Native American treated a buffalo. I felt like there were a lot of similarities there. This could be Miyazaki's way of telling the audience that the only way to heal the earth is to respect animals much like our older cultures did. It was very interesting to see this similarity between these two cultures.

If you’ve ever watched The End of Evangelion, you know that it’s not just another anime movie—it’s an emotional rollercoaster that leaves you questioning everything about the world and yourself. The 1997 film, directed by Hideaki Anno, is the mind-bending conclusion to the iconic Neon Genesis Evangelion series. But beyond the mechs, angels, and apocalyptic imagery, it’s a deep reflection on personal isolation, mental health, and existential crises. These themes aren’t just relevant to Japan—they resonate with anyone grappling with the pressure of modern life.

In Japan, where societal pressures often emphasize conformity and perfection, Evangelion serves as a mirror to the struggles of its youth. The characters, particularly Shinji Ikari, embody the isolation and the tension between individual desires and collective expectations. The film’s raw exploration of depression and anxiety reflects the intense societal challenges faced by young people in Japan—issues like overwork, expectations of academic success, and the constant pressure to "fit in." Shinji's journey is, in many ways, symbolic of a generation's desperate search for meaning in a world that often feels cold and indifferent.

Globally, The End of Evangelion speaks to universal feelings of alienation. The film doesn't shy away from depicting intense emotional vulnerability, making it relatable to anyone who's ever felt disconnected or misunderstood. The final scenes, with their surreal and philosophical undertones, challenge viewers to confront their own fears, doubts, and desires.

Whether you’re a fan of mecha anime or not, The End of Evangelion is an unforgettable experience. It’s a film that transcends its genre and cultural roots, making it a timeless exploration of the human condition. It forces us to ask—what happens when we confront our deepest fears and try to make sense of an increasingly complex world?