Kyle's Class Blog 11・5・14

Holy shit, what a trip that was.  Nothing surprised me more than the final reveal; I’d been waiting for what felt like forever for Mima to be confronted by her stalker, and the narrative felt pretty straightforward, almost tedious, up until that point. But the reveal of Rumi as the true mastermind, what a satisfying twist. The motive, the means, the intimate knowledge of Mima’s life, everything that had been hiding in plain sight came together.  Despite the happy ending that we’re given, I imagine that being betrayed by the one she trusted most was even more mentally damaging than the trauma of her stalker.

I want to touch on the work cultures of both Mima’s talent agency and the drama studio.  When Mima agrees to work that she doesn’t want to take, she mentions how she doesn’t want to burden those who have helped grow her career.  While possibly not a terrible attitude on its own, this is often used against her by her manager and others.  When they want her to do something, they’ll use the same rhetoric in a way that insinuates she’s being greedy if she doesn’t agree.  Similarly, in the one scene from the drama recording that Mima kept messing up, the main actress would make comments such as “I’m going to get a cold in this rain,” and “I’m going to have nightmares from this line.”  She too is manipulating Mima into feeling guilty, suggesting that her failures are burdensome.  This treatment from her coworkers and peers worsened her feelings of isolation and confusion.  It’s possible that her inability to make important decisions without being pressured by others initiated her loss of self.

I really did not understand this series, and it frustrates me to admit this.  From the beginning we are presented with this system of purgatory and judgement, where individuals are either reincarnated or destroyed depending on the conclusions of an arbiter.  In the case of Decim, the arbiter is someone who seemingly lacks empathy and a basic understanding of what might be motivating those whose souls he has control over. 

Is the anime parodying the religious concepts of purgatory and judgement?  It certainly seems to be painting them in a negative light, as if they are unfair and unreasonable.  And yet, to my knowledge, the setting itself doesn’t mimic any specific religion.  Thus the series comes off as being critical of it’s own made up system, to what point I don’t really get.  

Is the series a commentary on our own human tendency to judge others without all of the context, or a lack of empathy?  If so, I think this is a very agreeable message and especially prevalent in a time where cancel culture runs rampant through social media.  However, I’m not sure how profound it really is.  At least for myself, I’m very aware that I make decisions or perceive others based off conjecture, which can be unfair sometimes.  We live in a world where we have imperfect information, so it’s almost unproductive to suggest that one shouldn’t judge others without absolute confirmation that their perception is valid.

tgBecause of the comments my classmates and random people online have made, I’ve chosen to not skip to the later episodes assigned for this lecture.  I’ve built up certain expectations for this series because of all of the hype surrounding it, and I’d rather get the full experience (which I currently just don’t have the time for).  Thus, I’m going to focus on the first episode and share what my main takeaways from it are.

I have always greatly appreciated narratives that focus on characters who are brought up to fight in wars from a young age.  It’s often coupled with these characters struggling to develop emotions typical of someone their age, and typically touches on difficulties with romance.  When Violet makes her grand profession at the end of the first episode, it isn’t simply that she wishes to understand love.  Her general lack of empathy and understanding of others causes her to lack purpose.  This is typical of stories that portray the effects of PTSD, but it is especially saddening because of Violet’s young age.  While the loss of her commanding officer is what she defines as her loss of purpose, war itself and the justifications for it motivate people.  It’s very easy for us the viewers to understand how dedicating yourself so wholeheartedly to something can destroy you once it is lost.  The irony that arises from this is that, in general, the end of a war is perceived as a good thing for those residing in the country that has won it.  And yet, for Violet, dedicating and subsequently sacrificing herself to the war leaves her feeling lost once it’s over.  While nations may devise grand narratives to justify the war, Violet and likely many others were driven by personal motives over all else.  

While I found the discussion of doctored and misattributed photos to be interesting, the author discredited himself in my eyes with the first 10 or so pages of the work.  His perception of his peers transcends cynicism and enters the realm of conspiracy, while all the while sounding rather pretentious.  This work can be described as a combination of grand generalizations and internal inconsistencies.

The author criticizes other Japanese for pursuing individualism, and expresses that he believes this is the fault of foreign/global propaganda.  While it is well known that America had a large influence over post-WW2 Japan as a result of their extended occupation and influence on the new constitution, he reduces the Japanese public to these unthinking masses, describing them as brainwashed.  While it’s somewhat insulting to suggest that there is no personal desire, or that these people have no autonomy, it’s also somewhat laughable that we’re supposed to believe that his characterization is completely accurate and fair.  For someone who obsesses over the details of individual photographs, he certainly doesn’t attempt to substantiate this portrayal beyond “this is how it is” phrasing.  It also reminded me of the academic article we read that was critical of generalizing Japan as collectivist, and more generally the application of constraining terminology onto complex societies.  The way in which the author describes individualism and the loss of collectivism, it’s as if he buys into that very same narrative.  

 Whenever I watch Your Name, I always find it interesting how the two lead characters struggle with swapping genders.  Beyond the obvious physical differences that lead to some awkwardness, they have difficulty with how men and women speak differently.  Japanese is a very gendered language, from the differences in self-referential pronouns to the way in which they express aizuchi.  The most obvious example from the movie is when Mitsuha is looked at strangely by Taki’s friends when she uses watashi.  This made me reflect back on the Performative Acts scholarly article that we read, and think about the role of language in gender identity.  When someone is expected to speak a certain way as an adult depending on their gender, it may be somewhat restrictive on those that don’t find themselves to be the same gender as their sex at birth.  

After discussing my impressions with a friend for a bit, I can’t much better describe the work than to call it strange.  On the one hand there are allusions to a plethora of historical events, that at their core are portrayed faithfully.  On the other hand, the personified countries themselves are extremely simplistic, only being characterized by the most surface level of stereotypes.  The mix of these two elements was confusing for me, and at times I was unsure if the series was a parody of these stereotypes, or simply another victim of them.

While the version in Japanese is relatively dependent on these stereotypes as the basis of its humor, I wonder if the dichotomy of Italy and Japan’s characterizations to be reflective of certain Japanese post-war attitudes that some citizens might still harbor.  Italy is shown to be incompetent, unfaithful and militarily weak.  While this is somewhat in line with their small impact in WW2 and changing of sides in 1943, my issue arises with how Japan is contrasted with them.  Aloof and yet subservient, Japan is shown to be both loyal to their allies, and somewhat distanced from them.  To me, this communicated the sentiment that Japan wasn’t responsible for the war and the events that took place in Europe, while also being more refined and upstanding in nature.  This paints a more positive and idealized Japan, and hints at none of the more gruesome parts of their history.  It felt almost unfair to rag on the incompetence of Italy without acknowledging the militaristic and totalitarian policies expansionism that took place throughout the 1930s.

Having the documentary be produced and narrated by people involved in the convention scene made it feel casual and easy to consume.  I’d have probably enjoyed the perspective of an outsider looking in, but it was nonetheless a fun mixture of footage and interviews.  The I found the portion of cosplay to be insightful as to what people get out of it emotionally, and reaffirmed that I never want to attempt to create my own.   The two things I focused on while watching were the definitions of “otaku” and the significance of fandom.  

As someone viewing this documentary a decade after its production, my first takeaway was that the usage of “otaku” feels rather strange.  While I’ve certainly seen it be used in person and throughout online forums, I’ve never liked the idea of applying it to myself.  It feels somewhat weird to take a derogatory word from another language and to localize it with a separate meaning, but I also acknowledge the irony of this in light of how many lone words are used in everyday Japanese vernacular.  Personally, I much prefer the term “weeb.”  Despite its similarly negative original connotation, and rather interesting etymology, the fact that its creation stems from online users rather than the general public makes it feel more natural, along with its Western rather than Japanese origins.  Tangent aside, I found the journalist who was interviewed to have the most practical take on the term.  To summarize her comment on using the word “otaku,” she suggested that because of it’s foreign origin and lack of an official definition, individuals from within the fandom have the right to make of it what they wish.  While I personally dislike the use of the term, my opinion has no bearing on others as they have the ability to find value in it.   “Otaku” serves both as a shared descriptor to unite people of shared interests, and to give a label to said interests that these people derive cultural capital from.  

The aforementioned cultural capital has a plethora of benefits that are displayed in the documentary.  This includes the formation of interpersonal relationships and the experience of fulfillment from one’s interests and passions.  One thought that arose during the latter half of this video was a hypothetical question in regards to fandom.  Several interviewees mentioned how these conventions were an important and positive part of their lives, and I couldn’t help but wonder if these same individuals would find fulfillment in a different fandom had they never been exposed to “otaku” culture.  More concisely, is cultural capital something that can be acquired in so many ways that, if not for the first source, one would always find another?  Is fandom more about the passion and devotion rather than the object of focus itself?  I’d personally like to believe that one’s proclivities lead them to specific fandoms more so than circumstances.  Sadly, I’d likely need Laplace’s Demon levels of omnipotence to actually come to a conclusion of any confidence.  Thus, like with the definition of “otaku,” the value of my fandom is but for me to decide.

Every time I watch this series, I find it ironic and somewhat sad when Nidori falls victim to a double standard against the gender that he doesn’t even want to be.  His sister often makes statements along the lines of “a boy shouldn’t...,” and it’s reflective of how casually and unconsciously gender roles can affect relationships and conversations.  In general, Hourou Musuko does an incredible job of expressing its characters’ emotions through sound and animation.  Early on in the semester a claim was made that limited animation fails to communicate the narrative without exposition, and yet this is clear evidence to the contrary.  Instead of saying she’s upset or making sounds of frustration, Takatsuki visibly pounds her fists and throws her bag (in a rather typically masculine way).  

Going back to the most unfair of double standards, we see how Nidori dressing up as a girl creates far more turmoil than Sasahina ever could.  Only his actions garnered a response from the adults, who made him leave school because of how disruptive it was.  This is the moment that I find most interesting in the series, as it is the one instance that leaves me genuinely confused.  There are gay characters and characters that wish to transition, but from my perspective these things have long since become accepted, and don’t feel out of place.  Cross-dressing is something that could be similarly inconspicuous for the person doing it when they’re around strangers, but in the setting of a middle school it’s obviously out of place.  While we are meant to empathize with Nidori’s struggle, or possibly feel bad for him, but I wonder if he acted in poor judgement.  He likely knew that he would be ousted by his peers, and while I wouldn’t suggest that he should reject this part of himself, I think the “Koe no Katachi” route of finding happiness would’ve been most advisable.  Nidori has a group who encourage and support him, along with Yuki who serves as a prime example of someone who was bullied by others but found acceptance.  It’s certainly not ideal, but I really feel like he experienced unnecessary hardship.

Aggretsuko highlights different criticisms of workplace culture in Japan, from the strict hierarchy to the long, sometimes unreasonable work hours and almost obligatory social events.  I want to specifically look at what Retsuko desires from her job, and the implications of this.  

It’s mentioned early on that Retsuko hopes to get married so that she can quit her job as a regular accountant, which suggests she wants to either become a mother or take on a less demanding line of work.  In this case, emphasis is placed on the fact that she currently has a “normal” office job.  Many people her age like her, and as her boss likes to remind her, many remain in that role for their entire careers, climbing up the hierarchy.  I believe that the creator intentionally chose accounting because of how secure of a line of work it is.  In the US, many accounting students get their degrees and then join one of the four major accounting firms.  The message that I took away from the show is that there are negatives that come with this security.  In a line of work where many perform similar, repetitive tasks, it can be hard to find value in one’s work.  These similar tasks can make it hard for employees to stick out from one another.  Essentially, the work itself may be part of what causes this career path to wear down on Retsuko and her coworkers.  Ton-buchou stringently believes that those who will take on his role will become as cold-hearted and jaded as he is, because they will have had to endure decades of this line of work like he has.