#awpost

Talk about a tragic film. The story is touching in every aspect, the extensive exploration of the siblings' bond serving to really expand upon the effect of grief in the viewer. Beyond that, though, I have massive appreciation for the use of war as a setting for tragedy, rather than as a basis for the plot.

What do I mean by that? I don't see Setsuko's passing as a direct product of wartime famine. While the war was, of course, a major event that had a significant hand in her situation, the subject of war itself is tangential to the cause of her death. Rather, I find that her malnutrition and its effects could have been lessened, if not avoided altogether.

It is human apathy and pride that can take the blame for this child's death. It is Seita rejecting help from anyone but himself, and their relatives' carelessness in regards to the children that led to her deteriorating health.

Because if Seita hadn't decided that it was solely his duty to provide for his sister, she would have had more resources. If he hadn't convinced himself that he was more than the helpless kid that he was, maybe they both would've had a chance.

It's a great thing I had a buddy with me whilst watching this movie. I cannot handle seeing any form of stabbing ever, and Perfect Blue had an overabundance of it. Thus, I needed to be told when it was alright to watch again. These graphic scenes to a lot to put the severity of the situation into perspective, though, so I can't be too upset. Overall, "Perfect Blue" is a complex and thought-provoking exploration of the nature of reality and the toll that the pursuit of fame and success can take on an individual's psyche.

There are several factors that contribute to Mima's decline. Firstly, her decision to leave her successful career as a pop idol and pursue acting is a significant source of stress for her. She is forced to navigate a new and unfamiliar industry, where she is subject to criticism and scrutiny from those around her. Secondly, Mima's struggle with her identity becomes increasingly complex as her reality becomes blurred with the characters she portrays on screen. She experiences vivid hallucinations and delusions, leading her to question what is real and what is not. Finally, Mima is also subjected to harassment and stalking by a fan who is obsessed with her and refuses to accept her transition to acting. This fan, who is referred to as "Me-Mania" in the film, creates a blog that documents Mima's every move and becomes increasingly violent and dangerous as the story progresses.

That second point— that particular use of unreliable narration— is key to expressing the idea of psychological horror within the film. It creates a sense of ambiguity and tension, as the audience is forced to question what is real and what is not. We see things the way she sees them, and this is absolutely intended to create sympathy on behalf of the audience. I suppose that the goal is to make the audience question the nature of Mima's experiences and the reliability of her own perceptions, in order to lead us to reflect on our own sense of self and the extent to which our identities are shaped by our subjective experiences.

I watched dub, if it matters. Purely for the extra everything. The show somehow did a pretty alright job at striking a form of balance between absolute nonsense and pretty reasonable commentary, though the latter you certainly have to look for. The show is, in essence, a combination of comedy, cultural commentary, and social critique.

I'd say it's comedic in nature, first and foremost. The show takes a lighthearted and satirical approach to explore historical events and cultural differences between countries. The use of humor and exaggerated national stereotypes is meant to make light of serious and complex topics, making them more approachable and entertaining for viewers. For example, Italy is depicted as a pasta-loving coward, Germany as an efficient but uptight workaholic, and America as a loud and brash jerk with a savior complex... so on and so forth.

I absolutely understand any offense anyone could take with these portrayals... but I suppose it's also hard to remain genuinely upset when the show doesn't really take itself seriously. I mean, the show often breaks the fourth wall and acknowledges its own absurdity, with characters commenting on the events and situations they find themselves in. This self-awareness really just serves to emphasize the show's lack of seriousness and its intent to entertain rather than to educate or make political statements.

It's worth noting, however, that this lack of seriousness does not mean that the show is devoid of meaning or value:

The characters struggle with their national identities and cultural traditions, highlighting the complexities of national identity and the ways in which individuals are shaped by their cultural and historical contexts.

The show critiques extreme nationalism and the ways in which it can lead to conflicts between countries.

It depicts the consequences of imperialism and the ways in which it can lead to oppression, war, and other forms of violence.

By highlighting the similarities and differences between different nations, the show encourages viewers to engage with other cultures and to seek out common ground.

While the show does use national stereotypes for comedic effect, it also critiques the harmful effects of stereotyping and encourages viewers to look beyond surface-level differences to find commonalities between people of different cultures.

I've watched the series and held on until... the hospital scene. I still hold the story in high regard and happily praise it as a complex and multi-layered series that manages to explore a wide range of themes throughout its runtime. Based on the first five episodes alone, however, one of the main themes that emerges is the psychological and emotional struggles of the main characters. Specifically, the exploration of isolation, alienation, trauma, and the search for meaning and identity in a world that seems chaotic and meaningless.

Shinji's decision to work with his father is influenced by a variety of factors, including his own personal struggles and the external pressures placed upon him. One of the primary reasons that Shinji agrees to work with his father is his desire for validation and acceptance. He has always felt neglected and unwanted by his father, who abandoned him at a young age and has shown little interest in his life since then.

I didn't expect myself to find Sanrio characters relatable, but here we are— the show's cute, but also surprisingly applicable to real life. A theme of the series (particularly in the first season) is the importance of finding healthy outlets for emotions and frustrations through the exploration of Japanese work culture, including the pressure to conform, the long hours and expectations placed on employees, and the challenges faced by women in the workforce.

Each character represents a workplace archetype with a touch of satire, and perhaps the humorous delivery makes legitimate commentary on contemporary issues an easier pill to swallow. The whole thing's rather clever: the use of cute critters in the place of humans allows the audience to distance themselves from the characters and the issues they face while still recognizing the relevance of the themes to their own lives. Sensitive topics can often be intimidating to approach and, really, what is there to fear about literal Sanrio characters?

To start: not a huge fan. However, despite finding our male and female leads painfully bland, I think there's merit in studying one character in particular. Kayaba does, after all, exemplify everything SAO is all about— that is, seeking an escape from a mundane reality through technology. Dissatisfaction with one's life is all too present among many members of our society, and while his actions are very extreme, his motivations might be relatable to many.

Answers might vary, but really, what makes a world ideal? Kayaba seemed to find that answer. Should you be lacking in skill or adventure, your average mmo rpg will certainly offer at least that much. A bit of a chronically online course of action, choosing to live vicariously through your videogame avatar, but satisfying all the same.

Getting a grasp of that timeline was a nightmare, but I love this movie. Yes, even if it was ridiculously frustrating to see these two miss each other every single time. They're actual soulmates and it's so sweet. I think that the point of the film is to explore the themes of identity, connection, and fate.

Despite being separated by time and space, Taki and Mitsuha feel a strong sense of connection to each other, and this connection only grows stronger as the film progresses. The narrative suggests that fate can bring people together in unexpected ways, and that even the smallest actions can have a profound impact on someone else's life. For example, Taki's decision to write "I love you" on Mitsuha's hand during one of their body-switching experiences leads her to feel a sense of connection and belonging that she had previously been missing.

At the same time, the Your Name also explores the idea that fate can be a double-edged sword, and that it can sometimes lead to pain and loss. Even when things turn out well, the journey itself can be fraught with challenges and difficulties, and individuals must be prepared to face the unknown and make difficult choices in order to navigate the twists and turns of fate.

Despite how nicely the story unfolds, I cannot help but be bothered by some inconsistencies. Why do the main characters only switch bodies during certain times of the day? Why do they only retain memories of their previous switch in some instances and not others?

This I've looked forward to: drawing to a close our discussion of this show. I certainly do feel as though other shows and films we've studied have been far more deserving of week-long attention, but alas, the nuances of belonging to a community typically looked down upon by society take precedence.

Personal dislike aside... Genshiken Nidaime primarily focuses on the theme of generational differences and the evolution of otaku culture. This is very similar with the themes of season one, except with the added exploration of taboo interests among female club members.

Over the course of the season, the characters grapple with the changing landscape of the otaku subculture, including the rise of online fandoms and the increasing mainstream acceptance of anime and manga. They also confront personal challenges related to their identities and relationships, including Ogiue's struggles with her past as a fujoshi and the romantic tension between Hato, a new member who is exploring his gender identity through crossdressing, and Madarame, a longtime member who is grappling with his own feelings. Certainly, many of these personal concerns are relevant among many members of our society today— the series does well in high lighting personal struggles and overcoming the in a fairly realistic manner.