JPT1311 - The Animeted World Discussions

As I think about how anime has the power to shape the way we look at history, culture, and even our own relationships, three works come to mind: Your Name, Hetalia: Axis Powers, and Sensōron. They seem totally different in tone, but collectively, they offer a compelling picture of the way stories handle identity and connection.

Your Name is so intimate. It is about two people whose lives intersect via time and space, but also touches on something deeper, how communities recover from loss and tragedy. The comet in the film is not a deus ex machina; it's a symbol of human vulnerability and the strength of memory. Seeing it, I felt as if the film was just urging us to bridge gaps, between people, places, and even time, because it is through such bridges that history becomes meaningful.

Hetalia: Axis Powers is almost the opposite in tone. Light-hearted, satirical, and full of national personifications, it satirizes stereotypes with the interweaving of historical references. Beneath its humor, it plays with notions of nationalism, historical alliances, and tensions between nations. It makes history accessible, though it also reminds me how humor can turn away from how terrible the past can be or even quietly cover it up.

Sensōron is more direct and harder-hitting in its treatment of war memory and the histories nations have regarding their involvement in the past. It doesn't sugarcoat it like Hetalia does. Instead, it leads the audience to critical reflection on responsibility, victimhood, and how history is created. Having watched Hetalia, watching Sensōron is like going from a cartooned doodle to a pure, uncut, straight-forward conversation about the same subject.

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind and Xenoblade Chronicles 2 both examine what it is like to be living in harmony with the world and how hard that is when the world feels broken. Looking at Nausicaä and experiencing Xenoblade 2, I was amazed by how both stories are centered around young heroes caught between destruction and hope.

In Nausicaä, the world is already destroyed. Deadly forests, war robots, and mistrust between countries threaten what's left. Nausicaä, a princess of a minor valley, shuns violence for mercy. She does not simply long for peace—she actively seeks knowledge, even of monsters that she wishes to kill. Her compassion and bravery were so refreshing in a society that rewards boorishness.

Xenoblade Chronicles 2 starts off on a brighter note, but those same deep questions simmer in the shadows. Rex begins life as a salvager, living a humble life on the back of a giant beast called a Titan. Like Nausicaä, he is drawn into an affair far bigger than himself, and he resolves to stay hopeful about humanity no matter what becomes of his planet. Pyra and Mythra, the twin sides of one Blade, also brought to mind the Ohmu of Nausicaä, formidable powerful beings employed as weapons, yet hungry to be loved.

Both stories made me think of the challenge of selecting compassion in a world that is built upon violence. Whether it's Nausicaä stepping into a field of deadly insects to save them, or Rex risking harm to save Pyra from being exploited, there's a message here: real strength lies in protecting life, not destroying it.

While watching this week's anime series, Neon Genesis Evangelion, and the respective film, The End of Evangelion, I often found myself questioning a few things when it came to the initial plot and message. Though at times it can be tricky to analyze messages within the anime, audiences can still see critiques of gender roles and masculinity woven within the storyline.

Throughout the series, we see the main character, Shinji, grappling with self-deprecation and constantly apologizing or running away from situations. The first time we see this is when he finds out from both his father and Misato that he was taken to NERV to become a pilot of an Eva to save mankind. He lashes out, saying that his father hasn't contacted him in 3 years and that he only views Shinji as useful when it benefits his experiments (which his father somewhat agrees with). It is only when he sees Rei in a hospital bed that he decides to agree to do what NERV says (otherwise Rei would be forced to fight while injured). In these moments, we see Shinji demonstrate a more emotional and empathetic side, something that society does not often reserve for men. In addition to this, whenever we see Shinji say that he's a weakling, that he hates himself, or wants to run away, people like Misato and Asuka tell him he needs to act more "man-like" and to essentially get over his problems. This is a reflection on what their society and environment has taught them: that to be masculine is to be strong, show little emotion, get over traumas, and to fight for others. Shinji's character in itself is a criticism to pre-conceived notions of how gender and masculinity should be portrayed, and that though he does not have these specific qualities, he is still a man (giving new perspectives to traditional gender norms).

Something else I found interesting was the Evas themselves. At first they appear as regular gundams (robots operated by human pilots), but as the series progresses, we learn that not only are they created from samples of the angels they captured, but also contains the souls of the pilot's mothers. Within the first episode, we see Eva 01 protect Shinji from harm (even when it is not plugged into a power source or should be moving), hinting at the idea that the Eva is connected to him somehow. This action can be another portrayal of gender norms, as mothers in various cultures are thought to be caretakers and protectors of the youth.

Before this class, I had heard of anime conventions and fans' antics, but I never actually sat down and thought deeply about what those conventions were to fans. Since I had never been to a convention in person, I watched True Otaku: The Documentary in order to better understand anime fandom and its connection to youth culture and identity. I was impressed by how much the documentary became an emotional and powerful experience.

What surprised me the most was that conventions are not all about shopping, panels, or cosplay. They're spaces where people can feel safe and accepted for who they are. The documentary followed different fans who in everyday life feel misinterpreted or even unseen, but at a convention, they feel seen. It reminded me of what we learned in class, how fandom is more than just loving a show. It can be a way in which people, and especially young people, may construct their identity and connect with other people who are the same.

Most of the people featured in the documentary reported being bullied or isolated until they discovered anime. Anime was not just a source of entertainment for them. It gave them characters who were just like themselves, who struggled and were also nonconformist. In a society like Japan's, where there is typically pressure to be compliant and successful, anime characters who are not of the same kind can be extremely liberating to fans who also want to break the mold.

One of the things that truly blew me away was how creative fans are. They don't just watch anime. They design their own costumes, sketches, tales, and performances. That struck a chord with the idea we covered in class of the "prosumer," or the individual who is not only a consumer but also a producer. These fans take anime and use it to expose themselves, and it was great to see them so happy and eager to share what they had made.

Watching True Otaku also made me think about my relationship with anime. Even though I have yet to go to a convention, just being part of online fandom communities has shaped the way I think and feel. Whether it's browsing anime pages, reading comments, or simply talking to friends, it gives me this sense of connection. Fandom is not only in spaces. It's in the conversations, the collective excitement, and emotional connections that we form.

Lastly, the documentary revealed that being a fan can also be an act of resistance. Some of the fans discussed how they use anime as a means of escaping school pressures or work pressures. Dressing up or role-playing allows them to express aspects of themselves that they have to keep hidden during everyday life. Even if only for a weekend, it allows individuals a space to feel liberated.

Overall, True Otaku opened my eyes to the world of anime fandom. It's not a question of liking a show. It's about finding yourself, becoming friends, and being you. I wish I could go to a convention one day, but at least I got to see firsthand how strong and special these communities are.

Watching Sailor Moon, Aggretsuko, and Wandering Son consecutively allowed me to realize how anime can approach real life issues in powerful and intimate manners. While the shows differ in tone and style quite a lot, all three shows address issues of gender roles, identity, and emotional struggles in a way that seems realistic and familiar.

Sailor Moon was fun and magical but with deeper meanings about unity, womenhood, and friendship. Each of the Sailor Scouts has unique personalities and powers which is proving that girls are not of one kind. It was nice to see female characters that could be strong and sensitive at the same time. While the series is from the 90s, it remained relatable today.

Aggretsuko was much more relatable and real life. It shows what it's like to be a young adult working under stressful circumstances especially as a woman in a man's workplace. Retsuko keeps her professionalism and politeness at work but unleashes all her feelings through death metal karaoke. I totally related to how she had to put on a brave face on the outside but had loads inside. It made me think of how work culture and gender expectations bring on pressure that is hard to talk about.

Wandering Son was the most moving of the three. It follows two trans children who are having difficulty accepting themselves in a world that is not always open to or tolerant of them. The production is handled so tenderly and respectfully and it left me wondering how hard it can be for people especially young people to expose their true selves.

What stood out most to me about Genshiken was how well it handled a nuanced and insightful exploration of identity and feeling like one belongs within subculture realms. Rather than presenting otaku culture through sensationalism or exaggeration, the anime presents a human, realistic portrayal of individuals coping with societal pressures while retaining a robust passion for anime, manga, and games. 

Through its character-based storytelling, Genshiken encourages the audience to consider how other communities devise sites of self-expression that are frequently overlooked within mainstream culture. The series focuses on the hypocrisy of Japanese society today, specifically the stress of conformity to rigorous social roles and expectations in school, at work, or in one's own life.

In this, Genshiken club provides a sanctuary where characters can just be themselves without adhering to socially standard norms. This judgment against conformity is not restricted to Japan alone. Subcultures across the globe continue to provide comfort to those individuals who feel cut off from dominant cultural norms. I especially identified strongly with this. Being a person who also has to juggle socially "acceptable" roles with more individualistic interests, I empathize with the emotional significance of these groups. 

Saki’s character growth acts as an important perspective for viewers to reflect on their own prejudices. At first, she disregards the group, but over time, she learns to appreciate their realm, even if she doesn’t completely grasp it. This evolution reflects wider societal changes in the perception of fandoms and subcultures, transitioning from ridicule to careful appreciation. 

With regard to the subcultures and media usage readings, Genshiken provides an on-the-ground narrative illustration of our theories. It highlights the significance of community in organizing identity and shows how media usage can be an individual sanctuary and an act of cultural resistance.

In the end, it provides more than a representation of otaku culture; rather, it is a contemplative investigation of acceptance, identity, and the powerful impact of community.

Just wow! I have to say, these three were my favorite anime that we watched this course. All three of these anime had their storylines; however, they shared a common theme: children undergoing discrimination but learning to overcome it. In "Naruto", Naruto is an orphaned troublemaker boy with a demon, known as the Nine-Tailed Fox, inside him. He did not know he had this demon inside of him, but he always wondered why people rejected him. He was the odd man out most of the time, even when it came to excelling in school. He wanted people to see him and love him so badly. Finally, he realized that he wanted to prove these people wrong and show them that he is not a horrible person. We see this when he faces the villain Pain, who destroyed Naruto's home village. They called for Naruto because he was the only person who could defeat Pain; however, he did not exactly defeat him. he chose to listen to him and reason with him, and it ended in Pain bringing back to life all the people he had killed in the destruction. After Naruto went back to the village, everyone was celebrating him and thanking him for everything he did. For me, this scene had a profound impact. It shows me that no matter what I go through, good will come out of it. From this anime, we also see war and peace, just as we do in our world today. We see war and hatred, but then we see the effort of making it right.

Next, we see a different approach to this theme in "Wolf Children". A young college girl falls in love with a werewolf, and they have two wolf children; however, he suddenly dies. Hana makes the children hide their wolf identities from the world, and even gets questioned if she is a fit mother because of her not taking them to the doctors. She was so scared that people would judge them for their true identities. Finally, Hana realized that these children needed to be free, so they moved to a very off-the-grid home. The children have the opportunity to be themselves, whether they be human or wolf, without the judgment of the world. As the children grew older, she enrolled them in school and taught them how to control their wolfish urges. As the children entered their teenage years, they finally realized who they were and chose the path of life they were going to take. Ame decided to connect with the wolves, while Yuki chose to be a human and attend school. Ame and Yuki did not directly face discrimination; however, Hana shaped their childhood around the fear of their identity, hiding who they were. People all over the world, including my younger self, are often scared to express or show who they truly are due to the rejection of the world, just as we see in this anime.

I have to say that in the first episode of "Shin Sekai Yori," I was pretty confused. I did not completely understand the plotline of the story until after watching multiple episodes. "Shin Sekai Yori" follows children born in a "perfect" town, but telekinetic powers rule it. This anime follows Saki and her friends as they uncover the truth about their home, as their authorities withheld vital information regarding the powers and the past. The children are monitored very closely. If they begin to show instability or incompetence, or even fail to develop their powers, then they are never seen again. Those children are perceived as dangerous, and unfortunately, the anime shows that they would allow anything to happen if it meant protecting the town's peace. This makes me realize how horrible it would be if our country got rid of all of the people struggling, but it makes it worse that this anime is getting rid of children struggling.

While I do not believe that Japan or any other country deals with this exact issue, children are punished very quickly for their actions while constantly being degraded because of their youthfulness. When a child misbehaves in school, they are often punished by being expelled, suspended, or given a lecture. While discipline is indeed a good thing, it should also have a teaching aspect so that the individual knows what was done wrong.

In the article, "The 'Wild Child' of 1990s Japan," it speaks about a 14-year-old kid killing other kids. It makes sense why the Japanese feared children because of the horrible things this child did; however, they should be helping them rather than fearing them, and they also have to realize that not every kid has evil tendencies.

Psycho-Pass really caused me to reflect on what it means to live in a "perfect" society and what we sacrifice in the process. The anime is set in a future where everything is controlled by the Sibyl System. It can sense the mental condition of an individual and whether they would or could commit a crime. If a person is over-stressed, fearful, angry, or depressed, their "Crime Coefficient" is heightened, and they may end up being arrested or even murdered, even though they are innocent. The frightening aspect is that individuals begin concealing their feelings just to feel secure. All human beings are supposed to be relaxed, cheerful, and "stable" at all times. One single emotional error can destroy your life. That thought really resonated with me because I feel like in our culture today, there's always this pressure to show that everything's okay all the time, particularly on social media. One is graded on things like grade levels, productivity at work, the way one looks, and even one's mental state, yet one is not always permitted simply to be human. If you're never winning, it's simple to feel like you're in the back. One thing that I absolutely loved about Psycho-Pass was the way it avoids simple answers.

The Sibyl System is supposed to provide security and harmony, but it erodes liberty, privacy, and individuality. Individuals no longer have the freedom to choose for themselves because everything is chosen by the system. That caused me to think about the way real systems, like school ranking, monitoring, and job tracking, limit freedom even though they were meant to help. I also appreciated the main character, Akane. At first, she trusts the system, but when she sees its flaws, she will not silently go along with them. She doesn't hit back in a melodramatic way, but she is strong, thoughtful, and faithful to what she believes in. I believe that quiet tolerance is as strong as resistance. Psycho-Pass led me to consider how simple it is to surrender autonomy in the guise of safety, and insisted that genuine peace must involve freedom, choice, and empathy, and not merely structure.