Hentai and the Darkest of Dreams: Urotsukidoji

Lord of Destruction

            In ENG312 (Writing and Culture): Anime we have watched some of the greatest anime films ever made and discussed anime as an art form and medium for philosophical expression in many ways. We’ve talked about serious issues like war-torn Japan and Grave of the Fireflies, post-war Japan and Akira, as well as romantically inspired stories like Paprika and the otherworldly fantasies of Studio Ghibli and Miyazaki. Being a long-time fan of anime there is one thing that stood out to me that we had largely not covered (and with good reason): Hentai.

            Hentai is a genre of animated erotica originating in Japan alongside anime and manga. Hentai is the word by which is it known by Western audiences whereas, in Japan itself, it is known more commonly by the term ero manga/seijin manga or for anime, ero anime/seijin anime. Seijin meaning “adult.” The term “hentai,” in Japan, more often refers to perversion or a pervert.

            Hentai is an important part of anime culture because there is hentai produced of literally every anime character ever made. Even hentai of popular child-targeted films such as Spirited Away are accompanied by fan-made erotica featuring child characters in horrific adult situations. I encourage any who doubt these claims to merely perform a Google image search combining the title of your favorite anime with the word “hentai.” You will obtain results whether you like them or not.

If an anime is large enough to have an audience, it is large enough to have hentai existing of its characters. More often than not, fan-made hentai is produced for anime characters of a child appropriate anime series or film. Hentai productions are not fan-made but produced by a studio and feature original characters.   

            When looking through the pictures featured in Susan Napier’s Anime: From Akira to Howl’s Moving Castle, I saw the picture depicting tentacle rape in Urotsukidoji: Legend of the Overfiend (1987). This was from the scene in the beginning of the OVA in which Akemi is molested and raped by her demon-possessed high school teacher. Finding something of such adult nature, and such perverse nature, in a book assigned for a class peaked my interest immediately in the film. I was also enticed by the fact that it was clearly vintage – sharing a similar design style to that of popular TV anime series Yu Yu Hakusho: Spirit Detective (1990).

DOUBLE DEMONS ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE REALMS?!

Hiei is a similarly un-sided character in Yu Yu Hakusho

Amano of Urotsukidoji and Hiei of Yu Yu Hakusho

            Interestingly enough, Urotsukidoji and Yu Yu Hakusho have more in common than just their vintage anime art style. Both stories feature the Japanese high school backdrop as their setting and feature high school students (or young looking characters) as the main characters. Even more, they both feature the demon realm and demon invasions of the human world as important parts of their plot structures.

            Urotsukidoji differs from Yu Yu Hakusho in that it is a three-part OVA and its plot is immediately apocalyptic in nature. The word “urotsukidoji” translates to “wandering child” in English; this is referring to Amano Jyaku who is the lead role in the story. He is a half-man half-beast who has been banished to the human realm by The Great Elder to search for the Chojin (the super deity) of the legend. The Chojin is said to awaken, reincarnated, every 300 (or, in the anime translation, every 3,000) years to destroy and recreate the world. The story begins with Amano sniffing out, as it were, the boy who has been born with the dormant Chojin waiting to awaken inside of him. Amano’s intentions seem to be unintrusive in nature – he expresses delight at witnessing the Chojin and seeing the new world it creates. His attitude conflicts, later on, with that of The Great Elder who knows the truth about the Chojin. Amano is rivaled by demons that are also in search of the Chojin and wish to eliminate or cooperate with the Chojin.

            Urotsukidoji is known as the key predecessor to the tentacle-rape genre of hentai animation. When Toshio Maeda released the Demon Beast Invasion some years later, it became a well established and very popular genre. Another hentai that Maeda produced, which became just as (if not moreso) popular than Urotsukidoji, is La Blue Girl (1992) that lightly parodies the tentacle-rape genre.

You want to do what to my what?

            So, at this point, you’re probably wondering where the perverse nature and tentacles of Urotsukidoji come in. The film brings in its adult themes with the demons and beasts present in the story. These supernatural beings are obsessed with sex and love to engage in monstrous sex and violence towards humans and when the Chojin awakens to collapse the human, beast and demon realms, all hell literally breaks loose.

            What has struck me and many other fans of anime as a key quality of the films is the realistic drama between characters and a search for self-actualization or meaning. This is where I feel that Urotsukidoji and the majority of other hentai film series deviate from typical anime. Without a doubt, the factor that drives the plot of Urotsukidoji is a sexual one and the factor that constantly refrains from delineating the linear plot structure set in place is Amano’s constant willingness to sit by and watch on the sidelines. Through Amano, we see what he sees and we hear his commentary but, despite the protests of The Great Elder, he never attempts to challenge the awakening of the Chojin.

H.P. Lovecraft would be proud.

            The Lord of Destruction awakens in Nagumo, following his being hit by a car. In a morgue, his body grabs the hand of a nurse and the Lord possessed Nagumo rapes her, and in his orgasm, bursts her body cavity open. He then destroys the hospital as he transforms into the full-sized Lord of Destruction and towers over the city. The state is short-lived and Nagumo returns to school and normal health. After this catastrophic event, Amano takes Nagumo to the demon realm (accompanied by his half-beast sister), and is then warned by The Great Elder.

            Ideally, this would have been the point where Amano or someone would have killed Nagumo to prevent the destruction of the realms. But, even at that, there would still be the dilemma of the fact that it is not necessarily Nagumo’s fault that he was born with the Lord of Destruction inside of him. At any rate, this is the one factor that blatantly marks this narrative progression as being different from a typical movie where there exists a “good” protagonist.

            This is where I believe we can identify Urotsukidoji as being an apocalyptic dark fantasy. One in which there is no hope of humanity being saved. This is a world in which all of the worst things imaginable are going to happen and there is nothing anyone can do about it. The implication being that the stage is set and the audience gets to sit back and enjoy the ensuing chaos of rape and violence.  

           

            Another marker that differentiates this story from those of popular mainstream productions is the fantasy romance that takes place. Nagumo’s crush, Akemi, falls hopelessly in love with him after her being raped by her teacher. Amano and Nagumo save her from the clutches of her teacher, after delightedly spying on the affair through the cracked door, and Nagumo takes her on a date in the park.

            In classic damsel-in-distress fashion, she begs Nagumo to tell her that the rape was all her imagination. He obliges, embraces her, and shortly following they begin to engage in heavy petting in the bushes.

Spyin' on peoples in the parks. Touching myself inappropriately. This is totally normal.

            Akemi is the total embodiment of the aversive male sexual fantasy. Her character is the polar opposite of realistic, if reality had a polar opposite. She will get raped but she will eventually submit and enjoy it, shortly following she will beg for romantic gratification to the least likely candidate, and despite him revealing himself to be only driven by sexual motives she will still fall hopelessly in love with him. Her unquestioning love for Nagumo, of course, ultimately results in the conception of the Chojin – The Super Deity.

            Akemi’s character agrees by Susan Napier’s statement about magical girlfriends, “… far from being radical statements of feminine independence, these alternative visions are usually undermined by a fundamentally conservative narrative structure in which the female continues sacrificing herself for the sake of the male.” [Napier p.197]

            So, why doesn’t the Lord of Destruction’s seed burst her body cavity open like the nurse in the morgue? Presumably, this is because Nagumo’s dormant soul and infatuation with Akemi represses the violent nature of the demon and assures a safe delivery of the seed. And, in a story as fantastic as this, it doesn’t require much further suspension of disbelief that impregnation is instantaneous. 

          I’d like to assert or reiterate that this hentai exists as a resounding realization of the male sexual fantasy. Napier confirms a preexisting agenda by which the story arch conforms when she discusses the appeal of romantic anime fantasies across genders. In her concluding statement in her chapter on the magical girlfriend versus the shoujo she claims, “… these narratives are essentially from the male point of view. In a world where women (and life in general) seem increasingly out of control, the notion that certain truths about love and relationships in which the male identity remains stable and the male ego is restored rather than destroyed may have more appeal than ever. It is surely no accident that the ‘magical girlfriends’ depicted in these series are not only magical but also alien – an implicit recognition that such marvelous fulfillments of male dreams now exist only in an alien world far from reality.” [Napier p.212]

Hi-Laser Tentacle Penises. 'Nuff said.

            Immediately following, the Lord of Destruction takes full form (resembling Cthulu in many ways) and proceeds to destroy Osaka, Japan with its hi-laser tentacle penises. The decimating of Osaka seems to pay homage, in a way, to Akira as the resulting blast that destroys the Demon of the Sea creates a wall of light that engulfs the entire city. After the drama between the various surviving characters settles down and Amano resolves that he will simply “survive,” the Legend of the Overfiend repeats itself to conclude the story. The conclusion is essentially that the Chojin will be born, the realms will be destroyed, and new ones will be created. Where most typical anime films contradict the audience’s expectations and creates a happy ending, Urotsukidoji gives us a linear plotline that aims to disappoint.

            There is a repetition of the legend at the beginning of each volume of the OVA. At the end of the final volume, it repeats again. This repetition of the legend at the end of the narrative is a very powerful statement. In layman’s terms it says, “I told you that this would happen. You have only yourself to blame for seeing it through.”

Paprika: The Butterfly Warrior

            I was thrilled to see this movie again for this class because it has been an influential film for me ever since its release in 2006. One of my friends who was/is also a lover of anime suggested I see it and I did. Given that I was still a very young viewer of anime in general I was very confused by this film to say the least. After watching it again and again over the years I’ve slowly come to understand it more and more but it has been a difficult process; the first time I saw it I merely accepted it as being one crazy film.

            Now, after having seasoned myself quite a bit more in reading narrative and structure, I feel like I have much greater insight in reading this film. For the purposes of this entry I want to focus on gender interactions and the fantasies of the characters as they play out in the film. To say that gender and sexual desire is at the heart of this film is an understatement, for sure. What we eventually end up seeing in this film is that the primary forces driving the plot are various masculine dreams acting themselves out in pursuit of Paprika/Chiba or for control of the D.C. Minis (the keys to the dream world).

            So how do I approach explaining these matters? Well, let’s just talk about the characters and see where we end up.

            Tokita and Shimura are two male characters who are actually the least driven by selfish desires for power. Tokita is actually a “pure” character who is described as being a child trapped in the body of a genius. This is mentioned by Shimura who is an old scientist that seems to have a jovial or carefree personality – he always seems like a pretty nice guy! He only does crazy things when he is under control of the D.C. Minis. At one point he jumps out a damned window and later kisses Chiba while seemingly acting out Detective Konakawa’s in-dream actions. Tokita, of course, is Chiba’s true romantic interest but we’ll get to that later.

            Chiba and Paprika are the same person. Paprika is Chiba’s alter-ego whom she takes the form of while operating in dreams using the D.C. Mini. The film treats Paprika as Chiba’s suppressed inner-self most of the time. At one point Chiba laments her lack of sleep and Paprika asks her if she’d like her to analyze her dreams. During their conversation Paprika raises the question to Chiba, “Have you ever thought that maybe you are a part of me?” This ‘calls to the fore’ a frightening dilemma: 

Is our waking self only a fraction of our subconscious self? 

           Ultimately, there are no clear answers given. 

           Another point where the difference between the two is highlighted is when Paprika wants to chase down the Chairman, towards the end of the film, and she ends up arguing with Chiba who wants to stay with Tokita. Chiba desires the love and comfort of another while Paprika is a free spirit who doesn’t share loyalties with any specific person aside from Chiba.

            Detective Konakawa is our main male focus in the film and has the most obvious romantic desires for Chiba/Paprika. He is treated for his recurring nightmare by Paprika and seems to be attracted to her when we first meet him with Paprika in a hotel room (in a dream). Later, he meets Chiba when he is assigned to speak with the faculty of the psychotherapy institute because of their workers committing acts of violence and insanity.

            Personally, I see Konakawa as being the most admirable of the male characters because he is in love with Paprika/Chiba – just like Osanai – but he takes a totally different approach. He restrains his desires and engages with Paprika in a friendly, respectful, and sometimes shy manner. He doesn’t try to impose his desires on her, despite sometimes getting carried away with his fantasies.

When the parade invades his dreams and Paprika fails to grab the attention of Tokita, Paprika turns around to find Konakawa engaging in risqué behavior with a mannequin. It wouldn’t be much of a jump to assume that he thought that the mannequin was Paprika. Additionally, when Konakawa saves Chiba from the clutches of Osanai and The Chairman, Konakawa embraces Chiba in one arm, blows the smoke off his gun on the other, and then smooches Chiba. I don’t think this is so much Konakawa being a selfish maniac as it was that he got caught up in the plotline of his film’s story and just kept going with the flow because he was feeling FANTASTIC! A very funny scene.

            Finally, here we have the two “evil” antagonists of the film. Osanai is a young scientist who is jealous of Tokita’s achievements, wants Chiba to himself whether she likes him or not, and acts as The Chairman’s lapdog. He presumably performed sexual favors for The Chairman and Himuro in the process of securing the stolen D.C. Minis for The Chairman. He sacrifices everything, even his dignity, in his pursuit of Chiba and Paprika. The Chairman is a cripple and a psychotherapy purist who claims that the sanctity of dreams should not be intruded upon by technology. Ultimately, he ends up being a hypocrite and uses the D.C. Minis to recreate himself as the ‘God’ of the dream world.

            Osanai and The Chairman are two polarized embodiments of the pursuit for ultimate power over the two most sought after commodities of corrupt hetero-masculine men throughout history: the female and the human race at large. Osanai is enticed by the powerful and intelligent Chiba/Paprika. He likely sees her as the ultimate woman to dominate because if he could dominate her then he surely dominates all women. The Chairman seeks to impose his belief system on the world. He occupies the highest seat of power at the psychotherapy institute but, as a man obsessed with power and authority, he wishes to preside not just over the institute but the dreams of the entire world.

            The picture above is definitely a fantastic representation of how nightmarishly ugly the selfish hetero-masculine desire can be. At various points throughout my life, having succumb to such insecurities myself, it isn’t hard to understand how the jealous and conflicting feelings of an incomplete man can act as constricting tree roots to crush and suck the life out of a beautiful woman.

            So what happens at the end of this movie? How do these horribly insecure and confusing personal problems play out? Well, this is where interpretation is really important when approaching Paprika. This is what I saw happening when Konakawa defeats Osanai and Chiba/Paprika defeats The Chairman. I believe it was the prevailing of admirable intentions over corrupt ones.

            When Osanai and The Chairman are fighting over Chiba’s body, Konakawa arrives to save the day. Why does Konakawa deserve to save the day? Because his love for Chiba/Paprika was sincere and had good intentions. He never knew that Chiba was in love with Tokita and neither did the audience, as well. At the end of the film, he walks away from the institute disappointed that he didn’t get to be with Chiba but he doesn’t throw a fit when he is informed that Chiba is changing her last name from Atsuko to Tokita. He smiles because she is happy. This is why he had the character to save the day and had the honor of stealing a smooch from Chiba.

            I think that the story highlights the ability "let go" as a virtue to aspire to. I know that, when I was a kid, I read a children’s book about another kid who raised butterfly larvae as a school project. The story ends with the butterfly hatching from its cocoon and needing to be released into the world. The child cries and gets upset that he/she needs to let it go but the moral of the story is this: “If you truly love something, then you need to have the heart to let it go.”

            This movies speaks directly to this moral.

            This also brings us back to the story of Madam Butterfly.

            The Madam Butterfly storyline has a much more pessimistic approach to the male desire. In the play:     

            "Cio-Cio-San fears that the Western man who catches a butterfly will pierce its heart with a needle, then leave it to perish."

           Osanai acts out this allusion, literally, in the film. His unquenchable thirst for beautiful butterflies to kill and display for his amusement is represented by his own dream sanctuary. His lair is a room filled with pinned butterflies covering the walls behind glass and his way of traveling through dreams is to transform into massive cloud of rampaging butterflies. This speaks to his motivation being fueled by the desire for more butterflies – or, in other words, susceptible women.

            The final conclusion to the conflicts in the film, the battle between Chiba and The Chairman, asserts what appear as ambiguous statements about gender relationships. Paprika lists off polar opposites such as good+evil, life+death, and man+woman before retreating to Chiba inside Tokita’s body. She and Chiba become one inside of his body and a baby form of Chiba exits Tokita’s belly. In this way, the female savior is born from her unity with her romantic lover. Paprika and Chiba required the assistance of a man in order to realize themselves as one. Also, Chiba's defeat of The Chairman seems to speak to the conventional Taoist yin and yang approach to gender – especially since Chiba is colored white when The Chairman is colored black.

            Personally, I saw her conquering of The Chairman as saying that what really proves a male or female as being superior to the other is how complete one is in terms of "self actualization" as compared to the other. I apologize, that was a horrible sentence. Essentially, Chiba had reconciled with her internal struggles between herself and Paprika. On the other hand, The Chairman was still acting out in a blind rage driven by his lust for power. His blind ambition reveals him to be insecure and acting out of a kind of weakness. Chiba uses her courage lent to her from Paprika and her dichotomy with The Chairman both in terms of gender and workplace status to usurp him and dispose of him - this reveals him to be an unnecessary inconvenience standing in the way of Chiba and Tokita's occupational and romantic dreams.

            In doing so, she becomes the master of her own life’s direction, her work’s direction, and her love life. She conquers the dreams of petty, insecure men and becomes a fully realized woman – presumably continuing her work with Tokita and living happily-ever-after in an unorthodox relationship with Tokita.

            I think that this film did an AMAZING job of taking a mind-numbingly confusing subject – the insecure male dreams coupled with female subservience – and resolves them in a powerful way.  It takes these issues, which are largely prevalent in society today, toys with them and creates a head-reeling adventure. One that concludes by saying that people and relationships come in all shapes and sizes but what really matters is knowing yourself and what makes you happy. Being an English major who is constantly struggling with these issues, I could not love this movie more. 

Grave of the Fireflies: A Story betwixt Water and Fire

            I’d like to start this out by explaining my focus and why I’m planning to stick to a relatively confined reading of the subject matter in this film. As you might notice, when looking at this blog entry in comparison to my entry on Cowboy Bebop and Ghost in the Shell, the entries have been getting successively shorter. I’ll address this by saying that this likely represents my tastes in regard to film and literature – I like to write and think about more philosophical works. Ghost in the Shell is blatantly philosophical in its themes of post-humanism. Cowboy Bebop is pretty tantalizing in its treatment of identity, personal struggle, and lifestyle. Grave of the Fireflies is significantly a different kind of film and anime from those two prior examples. Its main characters are two children and it is set in the midst and immediate post-WWII Kobe, Japan.

            So how does that pertain to me and this blog? It’s a personal taste issue of mine that I just don’t like dealing with stories of tragedy. This film has some themes of bravery and responsibility that are nice but they aren’t experimental – which is what I like, of course, when talking about the major issues of a film. So, instead of looking at this film for the historical significance (of which I feel is important) or themes and discourses involved in the film, I feel more inclined to talk about the visual-artistic properties of it.

What?! Why!!!

            When I was watching the scenes in this film, almost needless to say, my heart was retching the entire way through. Even the happy scenes where Seito takes Setsuko to play and he makes her laugh – such as the scene at the beach or when they leave their aunt – are marked by some kind of omen. There are dead bodies on the beach and at the shelter there is impending starvation. The film starts out telling you ‘I am the main character and I am talking to you and I am dead. Get ready for a tear jerker.’

What hit me the most powerfully about this film is the use of colors pertaining to water and nature, fire and death. The repeated use of these colors in conjunction with the enchanting and wondrous symbol/metaphor of the firefly amplifies the emotional impact of scenes throughout significantly. I came to interpret these visual markers as carrying powerful symbolic meaning. So, let’s start with the first one we see.

Insert music that makes your heart tie itself into a million knots.

            The red lighting and dark shading during the scenes of Seito and Setsuko’s ghosts seems to represent the spectral realm of the deceased. These are fitting colors to choose for the reason that, throughout the entirety of the film, death is marked by an entering into a fire or being consumed by a fire.

When Seito’s mother dies of her burn wounds she is consequently cremated with the many other corpses of the casualties in the Kobe bombing. When Setsuko dies, she is also cremated by Seito, personally.

The cremation of the dead is a traditional ceremony in Japan and gives this film deep, strong roots in Japanese culture.  The red coloring of the environments that Seito and Setsuko’s ghosts visit suggest that they are in limbo; always seen for the duration of the film as illuminated by this gentle and ever-burning, otherworldly flame.

During scenes of liveliness, in the extended flashbacks of the narrative, we often see the colors green and blue. These colors have relatively straightforward significance when compared to those of the spectral. These colors accompany nature and life. Green being the color of plant-life and growth while blue is the color of water, nourishment, and healing.

The plant-life around Seito’s shelter is a vibrant green and the lake in front of the shelter is blue. Water was exemplified as having healing properties early in the film when Seito takes Setsuko to the beach after having moved in with their aunt. She has a rash on her skin that Seito washes with salt water that would supposedly eliminate her rash and end her itching. I’m honestly not too sure what I can say about the color green. Even though Seito’s shelter is surrounded by tall grass and green that would seem to mark resilience and new life death still finds its way to Setsuko.

I guess it goes to show that you can’t explain an entire film through the operation of one aesthetic feature. But, at any rate, let’s continue on to the conclusion of this and then talk about fireflies.

I felt that the final shot of Kobe’s modern city behind Seito and Setsuko’s ghosts was a masterful conclusion to the film. The color theme is present in full and obvious swing in this shot and there is a sort of haunting dissonance that accompanies it. The kids get to see that the city has rebuilt itself and it appears to be prosperous but, at the same time, they aren’t exactly a part of it. They’re highlighted by the dark red colors while standing on the outskirts of the city, looking in. Their coloration is in contrast with those of life and resilience in the city. And, of course, they’re dead.

I think that the symbol of the firefly is pretty obvious – but I want to add a little something to it. There is the trait that fireflies die young which is verbally recognized by Setsuko in the film when she is burying the ones that died overnight in their shelter. Fireflies actually have a somewhat typical lifespan for a beetle but their stage of adulthood is short – lasting two to three weeks. The fact that Seito and Setsuko die young is undeniable which suggests that the firefly is, itself, a metaphor for them and the lives they lead in the movie. In Japanese culture, the soul is often construed as being a floating orb or fireball. The constant involvement and omnipresence of fire in the film says that death is everywhere.

Since Seito and Setsuko can’t survive outside of society, it is an inevitability that fire and death is bound to find them eventually. The ghosts of the two are always accompanied by fireflies and the eerie red light. If we were to interpret the fireflies as being other spirits in the afterlife then it would seem that, in death, Seito and Setsuko have been united with the society that they may have always been intended for. If Seito and Setsuko are symbolic fireflies then it implies a sort of undeniable ‘destiny’ of sorts.

In their own playful, childish, and innocent ways it seems like Seito and Setsuko were, in a way, too good for society to begin with. As ghosts, they achieve permanence in their beauty as characters. Often times throughout the film I was frustrated by Seito’s reluctance to find work and take further precautions to take care of Setsuko. But, in the prevalent way that tragedy celebrates the romance in what was never meant to be, the ultimate death of the characters seems like a better alternative than seeing them lose what makes them who they are. Last, but not least... okay, nevermind, whatever... at least they have each other.

And that's how I obtained major depression.

Cowboy Bebop: The Movie... a quest.

            Cowboy Bebop (CB) is a series written by Keiko Nobumoto that I have been familiar with for a long time now. I first became a fan of the CB television series when I was roughly twelve years old when it ran on Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim. Staying up late and watching this show with its sometimes noir feel and peculiar jazz and blues fixation is honestly one of the best memories I have of my years growing up.

            Cowboy Bebop: The Movie borrows many, many elements from the anime series and functions them within the plot driven by Vincent. We have a dark antagonistic character willing to sacrifice anyone and anything in order to achieve his ends. We have Spike being Spike. We have a femme fatale. We have a story of star-crossed lovers (in fact, if you count Spike as part of it then we have three of them). We have a man seeking to escape from his current “life” with a woman he can share the rest of his time with. We have a man who has lost his past in some way. We have mysterious characters feeding clues to the characters. There is inevitable reuniting and battle between Spike and another character who shares a “similar soul” to him. And we even have bounty hunting and boobies! What more could we ask for? All of these elements are an integral part of what makes Cowboy Bebop what it is.

           

            For the purposes of this blog, I’d like to talk about aspects of “the quest” in CB: The Movie (CB:TM) and how it plays out in this story and some others as well. A popular theme for anime focusing on a masculine protagonist is the search for meaning, providence, or a true challenge to test character. This could be interpreted as a search for absolution. In CB:TM, the main conflict is between Spike and Vincent. Throughout most of the film, Spike is in search of Vincent because there would be an obvious monetary worth to this end. Of course, the plot thickens when Spike meets Vincent for the first time and becomes personally invested in encountering him. When Spike is talking to Electra, in jail, about his encounter with Vincent he says that he wants to meet him again because they have “similar souls.” This could easily be interpreted as Spike seeking out his “other” (to put things in somewhat Freudian terms) for reconciliation. In addition to the interpretive aspects of “the quest” in CB:TM there are also blatant allusions to it. The most obvious being when Spike awakens on the shore of a garbage dump at the campsite of an old Native American man and his pet wolf. The old shaman-esque man is called Laughing Bull and Spike often visits him for advice throughout all of the CB sessions. When it comes to interacting with Faye, Ed, and strangers, Spike tends to act extremely nonromantic (unless in dire circumstances) but his tendency to seek out information randomly in the city and taking advice from Laughing Bull reveals him to be a very romantic character on the inside. He doesn’t need to understand the details about his quest as long as he knows he is heading in the right direction. Considering the dark elements present in the CB stories, Spike’s conquering of all obstacles portrays this sort of philosophy about life in a very positive light (which I love). 

            Nobumoto has written another series that features a sort of “quest” for the main characters in which very different “lights” are shed on the search for absolution, meaning, or providence. As discussed by Susan Napier of Nobumoto’s latter series in Anime, Wolf’s Rain has an extremely dark and hopeless conclusion making it appear as though the search for providence could ultimately be a waste of time. The shape shifting wolves of the series are lead in a search for the Lunar Flower and “Paradise” by Kiba, an Arctic wolf, who believes that the grim world Freeze City can’t be all that is left for them. This quest clearly differs drastically from the one in CB:TM in that it deals with a search for some intangible rather than a person. But, in much the same way that Kiba searches for the Lunar Flower, Spike searches for clues about Vincent and the nano-machines in the capital of Mars. In Wolf’s Rain, this quest ends in tragedy – all of the wolves die with Kiba lamenting that there really is no “Paradise,” just an endless search. In CB:TM, Vincent is revealed to be incapable of realizing his goals because he could not reconcile with Spike and avoid getting killed at the same time. So I guess you could draw a comparison between Kiba’s relentless ambitions to find the Lunar Rose at any cost and Vincent although I would have to say that Kiba’s objectives were a bit more admirable. I have to empathize with Vincent a little bit though. I’m sure that we’ve all had one of those days where we wish that everyone on the planet would just keel over, go brain dead, and die while shitting nano-bots. But, I mean, hey, what are you going to do? If your ultimate goal involves killing everyone on the planet and Spike is standing in your way with that charming grin on his face, what are you going to do? You’re going to get your ass kicked.

            To sum things up nicely, I’d like to discuss briefly the chemistry between Spike and Vincent. If you have seen the full anime series, it’s no mystery why Spike says that he and Vincent have a “similar soul.” One of Spike’s primary struggles in the series is that he is heart-broken and without meaning since Julia (his “true love”) died. Vincent operates perfectly as Spike’s evil double because he too has lost his lover but, unfortunately, he doesn’t realize that his lover is still alive. His loss of his memory equates him to Spike when Spike had left the syndicate to lay low in order to convince Vicious (Spike’s old partner in crime – literally) that he’s dead. Laying low wasn’t easy for Spike and he often struggled with depression because he felt like he was a wandering soul with no purpose. In the same situation where Spike decided he would rather be sad and eat microwavable noodles, Vincent decided that he was pissed at the world for what happened to him and that he was going to exact revenge by creating an apocalypse and rebirthing the human race from his own loins. This sort of character dynamic between Spike and Vincent is what makes for a really good climactic fight scene.

            It seems to me like what Spike always wants is a good fight or a challenge. Since he lost Julia he has always been a wandering lone wolf. When he is searching for clues regarding Vincent, Spike meets a man in the marketplace of the capital named Rashid. Rashid asks Spike on more than one occasion, “Did you find what you’re looking for?” The repetition of the same question in a changing context suggests that it’s a question that is intended to be deconstructed from the confines of context in order to be applied in a meaningful way. I think that this question is one that should be asked of everyone from time to time because finding meaning in what you do is important for all of us. In regards to spike and CB:TM, I think Spike found what he was looking for as a character: a good fight.

Ghost in the Shell OVA

            My initial reactions to Ghost in the Shell:

            GITS is a film that I came to this class being familiar with. In addition, I’m somewhat familiar with the transhumanist themes among others present in it. Upon this second viewing of the film two particular subjects stood out the strongest to me: gender roles and the immortality of information or knowledge.

              Throughout the entire film the viewer is exposed to imagery containing Motoko Kusanagi’s “naked” body – her thermo-optic camouflage has a special transparent suit. We see that, although she has a feminine body structure and breasts, Motoko has no genitalia – suggesting that she may also have no sexuality. One of my close friends, also a fan of the Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex series, argued that it was simply due to making the film accessible. He thought that, if genitalia were present in the film, it would have never received a large audience due to a mature rating. I remain convinced that it was a decisive move made with narrative intent - in the English major we are taught to approach books and movies as though every detail has a purpose. I thought that her gender identity was an interesting aspect of the narrative because it plays absolutely no important role in the film until the very end. At the end of the film, of course, Project 2501 or The Puppet Master is seeking a partner with whom “he” can use to propagate his “code” of sorts. He’s essentially searching for a digital mate. During the exchange of dialog, Motoko states that she feels that she is getting the short end of the stick in the deal but never mentions why.

            I see it as there being two possible explanations for her feelings:

            One: Acting as the “birther” lends her the maternal role.

            Two: Joining with him would make her “life” a lot more complicated.
I would be interested in hearing some other opinions.

           

            In GITS we encounter a couple different forms of transcendence. The basic form that is common in the film’s universe is a “ghost.” This is the remaining personality traits or information and knowledge from someone’s biological lifetime that exists in their cyborg body. Motoko is a ghost – as are many other people in Section 9. The second and more complex form of transcendence (or maybe simpler if you consider the resources consumed – maybe “abstract” is a better word than “complex”) is The Puppet Master and his means of self-replicating. He remains the same entity – growing, changing, and seemingly thinking – but he can’t reproduce in a way that promotes diversification. Earlier on in the film, Motoko tells her partner that “specialization leads to stagnation.” This philosophy fits perfectly with The Puppet Master’s motivation for reproducing in a way that mixes his code with that of another entity or ghost. There is some foreshadowing about TPM’s motives part-way through the film. The foreign affairs officers from Section 6 mention, after securing The Puppet Master’s shell, that maybe “he” was searching for someone he had a fancy for but, ultimately, write the idea off as being nonsense. 

 He looks a bit Christ-like in this shot, doesn't he?

            In Akira we saw large overarching themes of death, rebirth, and immortality. I think that this is a big focus for serious writers of anime and manga because of the effects that Buddhism, Taoism, and spiritualist beliefs had throughout history on the Eastern world. In Akira we saw a spiritual or supernatural force acting to preserve the minds or wills of certain characters in the film, namely Tetsuo and Akira. In the context of posthumanism or transhumanism (I’m not entirely sure which one is appropriate for either one of these films) there needs to be something responsible for the advancement that permits the transcendence beyond death. That "something," being a development of technological or spiritual nature, is what makes these films works of Science Fiction. In contrast to Akira, Ghost in the Shell uses the fusing of human consciousness and technology as that medium. This is the mechanism upon which the entire narrative of the films operate. Those are my thoughts (thus far) on the two major subjects of “transcendence” and “gender” in GITS.

            TIME FOR ME TO TALK ABOUT WHAT I DIDN’T LIKE SO MUCH:

I liked the animation, art style, and ideas behind GITS more than I like it as a movie. Some of the character driven dialog scenes felt like dumping to me. Motoko’s conversation with Batou, after she goes diving, seems like it goes on and on and on forever. She gets so intense with what she is talking about that I think most people would think she’s crazy if it were a real life scenario. Surely, what she is saying makes sense but she almost broke character. For the majority of the film she seems almost completely emotionless and then this scene comes along and she gets really worked up.

            But I digress; I get more upset about “character” issues than I should. It is anime after all and anime is notorious for being over-dramatic. Some things you simply need to take with a grain of salt no matter how much of a “proper writing snob” you are. I’d like to emphasize that I only get worked up because I feel invested in the film and internalized much of it in a big way.

            GREAT, NOW THAT THAT’S OVER:

            Let’s talk about one of the best parts of the film – something that probably no one can say wasn’t amazing – the imagery. The imagery of this film is outstanding and was sometimes so beautiful that it brought chills to my spine; particularly the scenes with active camouflage.

            When Motoko takes down the black market puppet we get to see a very interesting fight scene that is reminiscent of Luke Skywalker learning to “see” with the force. When Luke is training, he guards himself from harmless (but painful) laser shots from a tiny orbital turret. But, in this scene, the character that could mirror Luke fails in blocking the shots and gets brutally injured. Damages including but not limited to: broken wrist, broken ankle, and broken face. 

            Motoko sneaks around the man invisibly, not even making a ripple in the water, as he lunges and strikes out at where he thinks she is. After she throws him over in the water, we see sparkling ripples collide with her ankles and her camouflage flickers with a subtle pulse – showing the audience her silhouette. Despite it being such a grizzly fight, the appearance of ripples seem like those of raked sand in traditional Japanese shrines in which lines are interrupted by trees, rocks, and other decorative additions that feature ripples of their own.

          When Motoko strikes down the thug with a roundhouse kick we see she is performing very fluid movements which also perpetuate the water motif. Considering her love for diving and the involvement of water with her fighting – at the beginning when we see her “shell” being created and at the end of the film the climactic face-off between her and the armored tank – water comes to represent her and her life in many ways. Once he is down for the count she deactivates her camouflage and we see she is wearing a face-mask not unlike the one Luke wears.

            I began asking myself, while watching the film, “what is it that Motoko has to live for? Why does she persist?” These questions are main thematic considerations in numerous other anime featuring a powerful or unbeatable character. In Dragon Ball Z, (just to throw out an obvious example) during The Cell Saga, the antagonist Cell's motivation for fighting all of the main characters is that he simply wants to test his ingeniously designed "perfection." My only answers for Motoko were that she loves the freedom of fighting and she is fascinated with the feelings she experiences in water. And, of course, when she starts thinking that she is bored with living she can always be comforted in the thoughts that she will eventually end up dying in combat – which is all too plausible considering her risky and selfless tendencies.

Matoko Kusanagi walks the fine line between life and death – in doing so, she puts her pristine sense of balance to the test.

     
What did you think about Ghost in the Shell?