The Throughline

After much of the extensive pausing that has graced the walls of this blog over the last year-plus, it has nagged me what it is that binds a majority of my writeups/reviews. Considering it as some mildly consistent body of work comprised of hours upon hours of grinding through whatever thoughts were found floating about in need of some manner of home, while discomforting in some respects, also deserves examination if even for a moment. Which is hopefully why these words are coming out in rapid succession this morning, at the beginning of the year of the Water Snake. Perhaps with some calm resolve, this could help clear up the fog of so many recent breaks. While real life has taken a significant point in matters, it hasn't been without thinking endlessly about what topics make for good editorial, be them here, or at AD, or any number of places. Daily schedules notwithstanding, it is also about finding something new to consider, even if the subject itself has been adequately written about elsewhere. So where does the Kaijyu seek out its own brand of thought?

Likely within an insufferable need to clear the air between fan behavior and an awareness of more grounded social context. And while none of it is entirely successful, it does feel very much like a common denominator that binds even the most gonzo peek at a bloody post-tokusatsu tribute. Which is also why the occasional darker than average piece of horror or doc comes my way and has to attain some manner of coverage here. Even the more obvious multiplex experience can carry with it some manner of social challenge that the average crowd might consider in between the opulent production value and explosive sound mix. One of the bigger things that film school helped me understand was that everything created is equally capable of coming through with something that is beyond the often extraordinary trappings we are sold into watching it for. Ostensibly it's just looking out for some semblance of the personal that could transcend the package. When novelty wears off, especially in a media climate such as now, one may find it important to seek out just what it is that draws them to certain works. What does one walk away from them with? What did it help us consider? What is it to be truly entertained?

And it these thoughts continue through at places like Anime Diet, where the occasional cartoon review, or look back at fandoms of days past reside. Attempting to sum up feelings about a medium that has meant so much to me since childhood remains a challenging and occasionally rewarding part of my online life. And its also hard to imagine a medium more telling of a culture and its social nuances than anime, so there is often a wealth to be mined by looking at the trajectory it has granted itself in half a century. And like anything else, it is riddled with a need to make a quick yen, but it also has within it, the power to encapsulate a time and attitude like few other forms of art. Its often visceral nature is not unlike varying types of rock music from folk to punk to sheer noise. And whether or not we acknowledge such a thing, it never ceases to raise an eyebrow or two, or jolt someone into a soap-box-stepping frenzy. And it cannot merely by a reflection of the fans themselves so much as the work that helped illuminate these feelings that were brewing under that surface in the first place. "Just look at that passion all over those walls" It's a visceral, occasionally beautiful kind of love that is hard for some to see the value in, but still deserves some much needed examining from the ground floor.

So what it all comes together as, perhaps is best summed up as a multi-tentacled means of figuring out where one goes after the flaming fanboy begins to cool down. Where one can truly roost, and still appreciate the past whilst looking heartily toward the future. It can just as easily be magical as it could be gritty, horrific as it could be gorgeous, honest as it is bugnuts crazy. It isn't nearly as tonally schizophrenic as one might have imagined. After all, it is imperative that a wanderer seek themselves whilst being lost. It isn't easy to chart a map without a north star, or a compass, but the work brought forth by the challenge makes it all worth while. We are all visitors, and it remains to be seen how many choose to remain as tourists. So there is indeed value in staking out all possible hidden paths. The magic is in knowing where these paths intersect.

Why Anime?

 

The question has been bouncing around again lately, and largely due to a sudden influx of new people in my life who have yet to fully understand why a 37 year old guy like me continues to seek out new and hopefully entertaining wrinkles to the medium. And it is still interesting how often I get comments and remarks about feeling either on the periphery of actually giving it a try, but feeling overwhelmed as to where to start, or were completely unaware that certain shows they loved as kids were even Japanese. And to this day, that second one remains especially so in that even during my childhood, watching Star Blazers and Battle Of The Planets(Gatchaman), it was pretty clear that these were shows that came from a very different culture and spirit. And as such, it seemed to clearly predict the kind of person I would grow up to become. Never fully satisfied by what the majority of kids around me clamored for (stuff which I admit was pretty cool considering the pop culture period I was growing into), the very notion that it always had to be that something else, that alien element, that neglected animal that would satiate my media consumption needs.




How easily so many forget how much Japanese media material was bring brought stateside by way of a number of small companies with an eye toward sharing foreign kids fare with Americans. Would I have still become the same Japanophile had it not been for folks like Sandy Frank? Or how about Carl Macek? Heck, even further than that with the folks at American International Television? Jack And The Beanstalk, as well as KTLA's playing of Yamato were early infections, ready and eager to serve as portent to what would eventually consume a decent portion of my world, as well as world view. So when more nostalgia-bait shows like Voltron(Golion) came about, I also made it something of a point to make sure I was watching dubbed and edited Mazinger-Z around the same time. And even though many my age were ravenous for Transformers, it was Robotech (specifically Macross) that made clear strides toward crystallizing my interest. And by and large, it was because of how much Macek intended to retain as much of the original version's flavor intact. Not that there was much of a way to completely localize the series, but there is so much of a regional feel to the series that its world and characters felt immensely more absorbing to me than most shows airing after school. And it was in these early packaged shows with such reverence for the source material that kept me curious. I wanted more, and sadly since no internet was available, all I could do was either wait, give up, or stalk adults with friends in the military.



It probably also didn't hurt that by age 9, I was already well versed in seeking out names involved in making the things I enjoyed. So by this time, I was already familiar with the Spielbergs, Lucases, and Carpenters of the world. Point is that the origin of a certain work was every bit as important as the work itself, which apparently continues to be the thing most people tend to regard. And with that, seeing names during end credits, as well as looking at all the clear-as-day signage in many of these shows, it was clear that I would eventually have to educate myself more and more in hopes of better appreciating shows such as these. So upon looking at the back ads in the latest Starlog magazine, it seemed that there was something of a culture of interest happening between english speakers, but the reach was still far too distant and expensive for a fifth grader to ever consider becoming an active participant.



But the real draw of this medium for me has always been akin to why I purchased a SEGA instead of a Nintendo, or listened to weird, noisy music as a late teen. Anime at it's rowdiest and most energetic, is when it reaches beyond the confines of budget to present a world bursting at the seams with energy. Vitality, even as cameras pan left with zero cels flipping. And ideas flowing at the cost of sheer logic. Not unlike the distortion-riddled, often electronic rock I was getting into, anime has had its reputation as something of a rebel art disguised as domestic product. Even through many of its most cliche motions, it has the potential to move hearts without sheen, or provoke without sentimentality. And more than this, it's a window into a culture that continues to confound me as well as fascinate. I at times can't get enough of how such an art form can shed light on contemporary feelings. Now one can argue that the days where this was most powerful are long gone as the early generations of the medium came out of the post war sturm and drang, while domesticity and recession may have dulled the medium's edge. But one can also posit that this prolonged sense of performance anxiety can only lead to something of a bursting point. We have recently seen some recent shows that again feature a grand need for creative and symbolic ways to illuminate contemporary problems and concerns. Even when they are clearly poised to be informercials to sell physical media, the possibility for them to transcend their "station" is still alive and well.

Or perhaps these are merely the squawks and bleeps of an indignant little punk. Hard to say. But this is my current story that works.

Acknowledging The Paradigm

As hinted at during my most recent post at Anime Diet; would a modern reinterpretation of Naoko Takeuchi's Sailor Moon even remotely resemble the seemingly innocent vibe of young girls using vanity products to change their appearance, and defeat evil? What would it be like if the very notion of your savior was rendered out of date with a world that has long since moved on? The shelf life of certain stories can prove limited when philosophical, scientific, sociological, and even allegorical paradigms shift from their previously settled posts. This is something that has been swirling around the brainpan for several years, and has recently come back to mind when doing the latest writeup. Would doing a modern take of what many would consider a classic legend prove vital when the world has changed so much, and grown so much more sophisticated that a "pure" replay would prove either dated or irrelevant? One can argue that this has happened more than once in high-profile projects in recent years. But how about when the creative parties involved took the extra time necessary to use established properties to help illustrate these changes in at times lyrical fashion? Surface, too. This is something I'd like to call, Acknowledging The Paradigm. Meaning, an update fully aware of the cultural changes, and not only visually retrofitting the production, but also taking a studied, and thematic look into how the previously unchangeable would apply in another, more contemporary context- without holding back.


And in a climate where the term "reboot" has become something of modern anathema, there have been many attempts to acknowledge that the world is a completely different place than when their original creators thrived with their work. This is especially so in regards to superhero properties. When many were initially conceived, often very specific social circumstances helped to make them resonate with their audiences, often creating a specific image of them to the public. And if there has been anything common about fan reaction, it has been derision by those calling out author and artist time and again, that reinterpretations often do not match, let alone agree with certain established perceptions of what made these concepts great, or effective. It doesn't take much to send fans over the edge, so keeping this in mind it stands to reason why so many fear dramatic deviation from past models. It is a difficult ice shelf to walk, but as long as creators find the means to build upon what has been said before, perhaps what is revealed can offer some value to those looking for other qualities within the new story.


Which brings me to a somewhat controversial example. A large part of why I am in something of a minority, and actually appreciate Bryan Singer's Superman Returns, is simply because it isn't shying away from being both an allegory for the fall of previous ideals, as well as a tribute to the Donner film. The very idea that Kal-El would not only be fallible, but in many ways irrelevant in a world that has left him behind is a bold, and often troubling one to consider for many. But this is perhaps the one thing that most captivated me while watching it for the first time in 2006. Much of the film's writing that rendered it confused in places took a backseat for me, and what stood out was an often poignant look at how America's ideals were now at a crucial point, and ready to change into something altogether different. Almost repeatedly, Superman's role in the film is either sideswiped by how the world around him has moved on, or is put second-fiddle to how even the mortal are in some ways empowered. The most telling of which is the James Marsden character of Richard White, son of Daily Planet chief, Perry. As the husband-to-be of Lois Lane, it is made clear that he is by no means considered any kind of one-dimensional romantic rival for Clark/Superman. In fact, he is by all accounts a good, honest man willing to go above and beyond for those he cares for. And when he takes his personal plane to rescue his would-be family, he even saves Kal-El, making the film's central theme that much more concrete. That much of what the former Depression-era-borne icon has inspired lives on beyond even his own function on Earth. There will always been room for him in the hearts of many, and yet he tragically remains an outsider, unchanging in a universe thriving on continuous change. It isn't the easiest pill for audiences to swallow. And even if the film can seem a bit mixed, and unsure of its own identity, there is a sincere enough thread to make it viable to current sensibilities if one is inclined to take a moment.

An example of an update that may look visually opulent in places, and yet never bothers to reach such ambitious heights (well, to be fair-most modern reinterpretations fall prey to this) is Tron Legacy. For a film so predisposed toward offering a more cutting-edge sheen to what was initially a wildly experimental universe rendered via extremely rudimentary(see crude) cel-based, as well as primitive CG in order to explore an entire computer based world, the 2010 film fails to acknowledge the vast rift of change to have come in the wake of our current existence via the internet, let alone digital tech. We can hide behind the excuses that the film was bankrolled with the intent that it was meant to speak to kids as well as adults, but it doesn't even acknowledge the current sophistication of children. In a generation post-REBOOT(the 1990s cg animated series), it is easy to see how much of a grandiose missed opportunity it was. To further take matters into intelligence-insulting levels, the film makes little to no effort to fill us in on how the cultural/evolutionary changes in technology have affected groups and individuals within the respective computer and human worlds. As an update of a film that not only tanked due to it being a little too new and subterranean for mainstream audiences back in 1982, Legacy never really bothers beyond vague concepts, and mysticism to deliver what is essentially a biblical metaphor sans subtlety, or even appreciation for human ingenuity. It's satisfied with just saying dad needs to step away from his work, and spend some time with the kids. And with 200 million dollars, and all the effects budget one can hope for, that isn't saying much at all.

More often than not, the latter is what tends to happen. The contradictions often pile on, as nostalgia colors what the public often wants out of their 2000s entertainment. And while there is some mild value in seeing certain worlds, types, and characters brought back to our collective consciousness, there is often a lingering set of doubts one must suppress in order for them to work in any modern context. Being a bit of a Nolan Batman fan myself, I also happen to be part of this problem when in many ways a multi-billionaire playboy seems to make little sense doing what he does, taking on criminals one at a time as Ducard once quipped. But then again, the fact that the films acknowledge this absurdity is part of what helps this interpretation work for me. The counterbalance of this kind of acknowledgement can work in studied measure. But more often than not, this is something that can only connect in certain measures or timbre. Which is why some creations can only remain within a certain time framework. (This has come about several times between friends and I regarding Superman only making truest sense taking place in Depression-era Metropolis. Such a period piece has a lot of potential.)

As is the potential for running the world of Sailor Moon in contrast with the current not-so-ideal vision of Japan today complete with economic turmoil, disaster, declining birth rates, and a general lack of spark, it would be very interesting to see how the characters would function in such a seemingly difficult environment. Especially where feminine roles have begun to shift, despite a seething amount of almost desperate (I take it back, it IS desperate) masculine backlash in popular art such as manga and anime. I suppose it is this contradiction that fascinates me about this idea. Not sure if it would be great, but it would most certainly be interesting to see it play out.

Personally, I enjoy the idea of entertaining previous ideals under pressure due to social and philosophical changes. It in many ways brings what we are becoming into focus, and perhaps even offers hints of where we can go from here. Mere longing for the past has never been a strong suit of mine, and when story can  
help visualize the folly and potential of our current selves, rather than merely admiring passively.

State Of The Kaijyu: Exceeding The Obvious II

After two big anime reviews posted for Anime Diet that more or less stray from the path of what I had been covering before, it occurred to me that a lot has changed within me regarding looking at works with less of the kind of wonder that comes with being a fan, and with a more discerning eye for critical detail. It especially came clear upon dissecting Toward The Terra, that a certain amount of wide-eyed innocence had indeed been shed since last time I watched it. Not that this is any kind of lament, mind you. But something had to be documented here to chart the difference between being a devoted follower of certain types of media, or of certain creative entities, and being a filter for examining how something connects to the public at large.

This also came about when discussing an upcoming project (no large details provided) that demanded us to dig deep into our collective black hearts to see what kind of bad films we enjoy. And what came of this was something of a revealing mishmash of diverging tastes. These differences may have been generational, you see. And since "bad" is something of a relative concept, binding us all together in an endless web of relative suck, it becomes hard to decide what justifies attention, and therefore potential exposure to the masses. And without going into any internal debating as to what constitutes bad in regards to Hollywood-borne mediocrity brain-drain, perhaps its best to say that having grown up throughout the loudest parts of the latter days of the Drive-In, and the salad days of VHS, I have a slightly different view on what constitutes quality, as well as what works for me despite limitations. But what was revealing about my cohorts' entries is that a majority (not all) of what was mentioned was often material best known during the home video franchise era ala Blockbuster/Hollywood Video.

Which is by no means any kind of sleight, there were many bizarre and fun enchantments to be had in those plastic-lined aisles. From the occasional anime discovery, to over the top italian gorefest, there was often something fitting for Saturday viewing. But having admittedly worked for one of these two mechanized behemoths for nearly four years, I can honestly say that there was something lacking in their respective selections. A sense of all-inclusive schizophrenia that often could only be found in the local Mom n Pop. Hailing originally from the more desolate ends of the Coachella Valley, I can attest to there being a good number of these within the vicinity despite what some might imagine. And it was within these very stores that my brothers and I stumbled upon works, particularly from independent production companies, that no doubt primed us quite nicely for the "blood n boobs" marketing trajectory for anime & HK cinema at the time. Having spent years salvaging our allowances to take in a nearly 5 rental-per-weekend diet of genre-cheapies was something of a morning preparation for baptism. But when BV, and Hollywood came into the picture, so many restrictions, and codes were put in place under the assumption that they were for "family viewing" despite the fact that some unknowingly carried La Blue Girl, that it became harder to see some of the more standout diamonds in the rough. I would even argue that after the last gasps of the Drive-In, the direct-to-home-video market virtually squelched a lot of what made smaller productions strive harder to make any kind of impression, save for a fancy (albeit gaudy) cover sleeve on a shelf.

So a disconnect of sorts seems to have resulted. Not only this, but an H-Town eager to capitalize on mimicry in a post-Tarantino world has helped blur the line between what was trashy out of necessity, and trashy in an ironic, post-modern sense. And while I can attest to liking both (one obviously much more than the other- but I'm sure you can guess which one), there is definitely a difference displayed by those who have a firm grasp of what they are attempting versus having little options besides.

And this all spills into how one can love something despite its glaring flaws, and possibly even because of them. There is indeed a gulf between being objectively well-constructed, and loveable. The same happens in any other kind of art. Music perhaps being the paramount example. And even as a large population of these posts seem to reflect certain sectors of my critical mind, there are going to be instances when the upstart kid in the garage is going to overpower the studio employee with a steel-trap for a work. And while I do love well constructed narratives, and visual inventiveness, there will always be a part of me that roots for simple passion. So perhaps this new project will help expose this debate further, and help spur on further discussion as pop culture seems to be reaching something of a turning point. And hopefully, my thoughts can serve as something of a map, not only for me, but for anyone else curious about themselves, and what leads them to like what they do.

Regarding Reviews: What Makes This Kaijyu Tick?

Waking up this morning, I was suddenly possessed with typing up some kind of explanation as to how some of my tastes function, as well as perhaps elaborate a little on what makes certain movies/shows work for me personally. And to be honest, like anyone else, I couldn't pinpoint such things with any absolute razor thin accuracy. All I can do is perhaps shine a light on what it is that makes me lose myself in a film as opposed to seeing it as just a collaborative project that either functioned, or didn't. And it is by looking back at years of watching movies that I can finally see patterns emerge, which is what I hope to share here over time. If anything, The Wandering Kaijyu works not unlike a means to see where I am, not only as a "fan", but as a "maturing" human.

So with that, let's dive on in...

As I just mentioned via Twitter, one of the larger components of what works for me as a reviewer is if the completed work carries within it some manner of "truth". And when I say this, it isn't that there's some hidden desire for absolute truth of any kind. But rather that the work's established thesis carries with it a certain amount of conviction permeating throughout the entire piece. (without getting lost along the way) And this even includes films with a certain level of naivete. If the piece maintains that spirit, no matter how silly, or goofy, chances are it can pass. But the establishment of these feelings, ideas, concepts must be well established within the first few moments, otherwise tone can be compromised, oftentimes creating something of an uneven mess.


If a film/show establishes a highly logical universe, it is important that the writing and acting maintain this in order to keep more attentive audiences locked into the story. This is where I have to chime in that the moving picture is more an emotional medium than an intellectual one, so the sheer level of logical complexity will almost always never be one hundred percent, but if the story established asks the audience to be wary of minute details, it's important to at least convince us that what is happening really is. The brain can detect falseness very well, and as such, this is part of a very tricky balancing act in order to keep viewers emotionally engaged in matters. So "logical truth" is important, if only to keep the more thematic/emotional material intact. This is something that film often gets wrong since the other part of this equation is in many ways more important, but in that rare occasion, something closer to airtight can also better support the projects' more direct ideas & themes.

Now...on the other hand...

Looking back at everything that tends to secure a fave spot somewhere, there are times when simple logic is often abandoned. I mean, let's get down to it. I'm a grand sucker for tokusatsu films featuring giant monsters, giant robots, spirits, fantastic worlds without standard physics in attendance. I have a raging love for works that often bend conventional rules of reality, until it no longer even resembles a recognizable construct aside from maybe having humans in them. So what about these? And why do some of these still get iffy reviews regardless?

Let's go ahead an illustrate what I mean with a truly mainstream example of this; Spiderman 2 (2004).

Much like the previous Sam Raimi film(and before things really got out of hand), this was a fully realized American comic book world brought to life complete with classic archetypes, derring-do, and special effects. And considering the era of special effects that were attainable at the time, along with some seriously questionable physics, the film in many strange ways, looks strangely quaint in retrospect considering where comic adaptations went in regards to "realism" years following. The action scenes of Spidey 2, while exciting to some degree, feel not only video game-like in execution, but also sadly plastic-y, and sans any real feeling of threat. As Spiderman is battling Doctor Octopus, there are multiple moments of human bodies slamming against concrete, busting brick walls, bending steel, and so-forth without any concern for the all-too mortal Peter Parker underneath the spandex. It gets to a certain point where the back of the mind just gives up, and the suspension is compromised.


So why do I still own this film? Why does it still work in my mind as a successful popcorn experience?

Simple; Raimi and crew stuck to their guns regarding their rendition of Peter Parker and his life. In the end, the action was nowhere near as important as the human element. Whether it be his living situation, his love issues, or even guilt over the past, it is all played beautifully, and does so in a clever way when considering the plight of Dr. Octavius. It is here that the fantasy elements are countered by emotional, and thematic truths that are played well from first frame to last. And even as the credits roll, we understand the sacrifice inherent in living such a life. Even as the world embraces a more heightened reality, the more personal underpinnings of the story are what stay.


Therein lies what I find to be one of the the more challenging parts of the viewing experience, and yet can be summed up with a simple response; when one is dealing with the fantastic, at least for me, there needs to be some kind of emotional, spiritual thesis at work from the beginning of the film, which again brings back the idea of intention. Some films while utterly steeped in the unbelievable are capable of counterbalancing the often tinkered rules of physical/logical reality at hand. It goes all the way back to my love of films like Gojira for example. There is an almost youthful exhuberance in the execution of many of TOHO & DAIEI's early special effects films that comes through quite clearly despite all the fantasy bouncing off the edges like a vengeful Superball.

When faced with envisioning the impossible within film (or anime for that matter), a need for something else to ground matters is vital. And more often than not, this is where effective emotional storytelling comes into play. Without this, it all whittles down to merely spectacle with no real point or purpose, which for me is worse than anything. Especially in a time when anything can be achieved visually, story & theme eventually must take point in whether the project will speak to me or not.

If the spirit of the work is well established from the outset, and the creators find ways to maintain that spirit throughout, there's a good chance for a successful experience for us. Even if certain rules are bent, beats are underplayed, notes are forgotten, or even betrayed with new revelations, they still can help weave a unique tapestry. But more often than not, it all needs to be well-planned and executed. There are exceptions out there for sure. Works that came together on the day, within happenstance, or out of last moment necessity. In fact, some works can work in spite of all of this due to their immediacy, ingenuity, and energy. As long as the central nucleus of thought is consistent and carried through to the credits, chances are it'll work its wonders on me.

At the end, there are no real rules so much as a need for the work to speak truthfully, even if it's through the mind of a child. It is a quest to believe in the possibilities. And this is the spirit of The Wandering Kaijyu.