Yukikaze Soars, 80s Appreciation Week Continues
Some time ago, Haikasoru’s Yukikaze came out in its English-language glory. Picking up a book all about aerial dogfighters shooting random alien menace was probably not the most natural thing for me to do–I’m a far cry from a military otaku–but it felt like the right thing to do.
Now that I’ve finished the book, it struck me that this is a must-read if you want to plot out the dots on the cultural landscape of “modern visual culture” of Japan. In other words, Yukikaze is probably landmark stuff, and it is self-evident. I’d rank it along with books like Boogiepop and other notable cultural oddities that influenced a generation of fans and creators.
I mean, the war on pants now makes sense. I’m not going to say “you can’t criticize Strike Witches without reading Yukikaze” but it certainly makes things a lot more interesting once you’ve begin the analysis from that perspective. Because, after all, Strike Witches anime (no clue about the other stuff) practically is the thematic adaptation of Yukikaze.
A housekeeping note, I’ll italicize the name of the book, Yukikaze, when I refer to the book. When I am not referring to the book (ie., the plane, the anime, etc) I will not italicize.
Anyways, a few more impressions:
I get the feeling that the prose in Yukikaze, as a matter of translation, flowed better than the previous Haikasoru books I read. For the record that’s everything out here at the time of Yukikaze’s release except Brave Story, The Book of Heroes, and Battle Royale. (A side note on that–already preordered Ibis, Slums and Loups-Garous~) Props to the translation/editing team. There’s a review on Amazon that points to the flaws to the translation, but it doesn’t look like a huge deal.
More seriously, though, the question is what does that mean in regards to Yukikaze the anime? I don’t have a copy of it (never watched the whole thing anyways), so I can’t pull it out for reference, but from what I remember much of that was nowhere as awesome as the stories in the book. I know they were pushing hard on the rogue AI element, but that felt really cliche. The story in the book painted a somewhat different picture, where neither Yukikaze (the plane) nor her pilots and owners worried about Yukikaze becoming sentient. They didn’t care that they have an intelligent plane; they worried about how it fare against the JAM. They worried about surviving their missions. Yukikaze doesn’t “turn evil” per se, but yeah, sure, she can, in Asimov style, prioritize her survival over her pilot’s survival. What really shined in Yukikaze’s execution was they never really blown it out of proportion beyond Yukikaze’s singular purpose–a war machine against the JAM.
I also don’t remember much about Booker in the anime, but he is a big part of what makes the novel interesting. Safe to say I’m sure there are a lot of stuff left out of the anime adaptation from the book, and that could be part of the problem. In other words, yes, I didn’t really enjoy the Yukikaze anime, nor the cute animorphic one-shot spin-off. I guess I didn’t buy into that whole franchise at the time. Maybe I’m willing to try again?
The Haikasoru presentation gave us a few extra pieces at the end of the book. The author’s notes indicated that this particular version is his 2002 rewrite which followed the sequel to his original 1984 Yukikaze, called Good Luck, Yukikaze, that came out in 1999. The rewrite supposedly remained true to the original, but with some touch-ups to make the transition better to the sequel. There also exists a 2009 sequel, the third in the series, called Unbroken Arrow. Naturally, I wonder what the changes were… and yeah, please bring those over too, will you?
There are two essays in addition to all that stuff appended to the book. The essays juiced the story and theme analysis out pretty well, as both essays are straight analytical pieces about Yukikaze. They are good starting points if you want to follow up… but to me they did the opposite and made me generally apathetic to thinking more about Yukikaze. I mean, much of what I could say is said there already. And said better. If this post turns out mostly about framing Yukikaze and not much about the content, blame it on those essays.
A week or two ago there was this rant on Haikasoru’s website about World SF, and uh, I’m not sure if I have a response to it. It probably makes little sense to look at Yukikaze like how I treat a typical pulpy page turner SF from some American or British author. Even if in context, and I experience both functionally within the same context–on a long train ride home–my expectations are different. What I read matches what I expect. The mechanism that adjusts my expectations accordingly is probably what’s missing in this dialog… and it is probably why this post is turning out to be my way to address this question indirectly by giving you my framework to approach Yukikaze.
The last thing I want to mention is that the last story in the book (Yukikaze is actually a series of short stories about a consistent set of characters in their JAM-fighting life) talked about the next generation fighter that will inherit Yukikaze’s … combat paradigm, lack of a better term. It’s not just the AI and its learned experience, but also its design doctrine, tactical specifications, and hardware performance. What bugged me about it was that it talked about Yukikaze’s supercomputer being a bottleneck in Yukikaze’s incremental upgrade inside its Super Sylph frame.
Today, we know that Moore’s Law reigns supreme. What passes as a supercomputer 10 years ago is probably today’s university-lab home-brew cluster computing rig, and what passes as a supercomputer 20 years ago probably pushes as many flops as my desktop. In other words, it’s a major flaw that Yukikaze doesn’t take the rate of computing advances into account. It’s much more likely that Yukikaze gets a CPU upgrade that shrinks the power requirement, weight and size of its main computer by 50% in half of the time it takes to get an engine upgrade with max throughput of 160% increase. There is no Moore’s Law to avionics, thanks to the fact that dogfights in the book don’t happen in vacuum. This “design flaw” is particularly egregious since Yukikaze invokes the rogue AI schtik. To fix this, he might have to rewrite the entire last chapter…
So much for trying to say that I really enjoyed the read. Maybe I should just say “this is probably the best Haikasoru book out there, you owe it to yourself to read it!”
Of Mobile Suit Gundam, Zeta
This post treads spoiler territory lightly–but we’re talking about ancient television anime, so it’s okay, right?
I’m actually on target to finish a good portion of my Universal Century Gundam backlog by the time I get my full Gundam Unicorn Blu-Ray treatment, and it wouldn’t do any justice to not talk about Mobile Suit Gundam and Gundam Zeta at all in the meanwhile. At the same time I feel that the nature of my viewing doesn’t lend itself to allow me to do justice on any sort of meaningful discussion, because I’m not watching them for the sake of enjoying them first and foremost. So if you disagree with me, you’re probably on to something.
Through the exercise of catching up, I’ve gained a new-found respect for the original Gundam TV series and the movie trilogy. I actually didn’t watch all of the original MSG TV, just parts of it. But despite being dated it was actually interesting. In fact it’s surprising to me that the movie version was not really better than the original series (although it is definitely the sane alternative for someone who just wants to catch up). For a point of comparison, the Turn-A Gundam movies were probably superior than the TV series if just for better cohesion alone.
On the other hand, I can’t really say any of that about Zeta Gundam TV. Not only because I didn’t watch the “New Translation” films, but also I just didn’t think Zeta TV was really what people crack it up to be. In fact I got through Zeta mostly because of Camille and the developing Tomino thematic parallels. I found myself caring less about Char and Amuro, less about the future of spacenoids and the fate of Earth, and less about the whole backstory and references to the 0080 and 0083 OAVs. It just wasn’t as interesting. In fact, I can understand (and agree with) why Tomino did the kill-them-all thing. It makes sense, as the nature of the series became more character-driven than rather idea-driven.
Confession: I almost fist-pumped when a particular MSG character went up in a glorious ball of light. I thought it was a good decision to do it, although the timing might be off.
Confession 2: Why do I care about Camille? Probably he is one of the most intriguing character I’ve seen in anime since…forever? It doesn’t mean I like him however and I still want to punch his whiny guts.
But it is still a great exercise. I enjoyed myself thoroughly. In some ways it made me appreciate Gundam 00 a lot more. Zeta and 00 share a lot of the same flaws, at the very least. It’s crystal clear now that Gundam 00 is a retooled, 21st century, post 9/11 version of Zeta… Too bad it comes from the perspective of a Gundam Wing-appeasing business rather than an animator outfit trying to prove himself and make something revolutionary. Well, to be fair, Zeta pushed pretty hard on the Char-is-your-wet-dream angle too…
I think the key difference is in the politicking. In all honesty, Mobile Suit Gundam and Gundam Zeta are closer to true space operas than most mecha shows. Just like how Battlestar Galatica is, well, not Star Trek Voyager. The narrative construct in which the very same, recycled themes play out between similar, oft-recycled characters differ pretty much only in the context that the viewers perceive them. If we’re told to put on our 9/11 jihad goggles, we’ll see a different world than if we were to look through a Rosy Revolution between dancing beautiful men and women. Or if we were told to perceive the meaning of “sora wo kakeru” as a Sunrise fanservice vehicle versus a mentally stunted, ex-mecha pilot.
Being a guy who enjoys post-shark-jumping anime harems, none of that really bothered me. Rather it came off with a certain charm, like looking at American or German WWII propaganda posters. The narrative in Zeta kept that breakneck Tomino pace and even if I didn’t like one thing, I didn’t have to dwell on it.
During my trek through Zeta, I kept thinking about Maya Okamoto’s Emma. Why? Because it’s sort of amusing that I was able to meet and talk with her years ago, but without this huge swath of fanboy knowledge about the work she has done during the 80s and 90s, and all that Gundam chop. Amusing as in, “man I was an idiot” kind of way.
I’m not so different even now, I guess. And I know having caught up on UC Gundam probably made me a better person, if just a little.
With all that said, I’ll probably excuse myself from ZZ and V for now. Maybe another time.
Katanagatari 3 and Self-Defense?
There may be spoilers?
Question: Is it me or is this any of this below actually in the show? As in, are these questions applicable to the further comprehension of Katanatagari anime, episode 3?
1. The main ‘villain’ inherited a defensive martial arts technique which is based around disarming the opponent and using their weapon against them?
1a. How is it possible that someone with such a technique expect to defeat another whose technique is entirely based on unarmed combat, with bonus advantages against armed opponents? Especially when the other has track record of beating opponents on their home turf, with probably equal or higher caliber weapons?
2. Does improvement on self-defense improve self-confidence? If so, can it attribute to over-confidence? Is this the poison?
2a. What exactly is the poison? The corruption of power?
3. Is this a feminist message?
4. Is her death atonement for the forty-three slain bandits?
4a. Did she realize the slain bandits did not make up for her own atrocious behavior prior to her redemption?
4b. Did she realizes she was no different than the predators of her trustees?
5. Kyotouryu practices different forms of disarming an armed opponent, but is this just one of many ways for a Kyotouryu practitioner to achieve his goal? Is this a preferred way or is there no doctrinal preference?
6. Will we get a story later on that maps out the confidence==weapon theme more blatantly than this episode?
6a. What does that say about the girls who are holding onto swords to help rebuild themselves psychologically?
6b. What does that say about Togame?
Did I just write a post with only questions? Maybe?
Bonus Round: How does this apply to Japan’s feeling of their SDF?
The Wheel of Pandering
One way we (I) gain insight from thinking too much about silly things, like the nature of anime industry for example, is through abstractions, models, and generally theorizing about the cogs and levers that turns whatever thing I’m thinking about. Well, maybe cogs and levers are code words for elements and their relationship with each other, but it doesn’t have to be.
Any “oldfag” industry types will be able to say something about merchandising and its role in the rise of anime as a popular cultural icon. It’s true, especially in the last 15 years with the changeover to video games. All we need as an example, a proof, is to see how Pokemon became the global monster that it became. In fact, it brought up a generation of western anime fans with it, which is something older generations of merchandising-lead anime productions also did, but differently. But I don’t see any “oldfag” analysis of present-day (or not even anymore, Pokemon is a 90s thing) marketing deals and what not. I want to read about, say, how the Upper Deck/Konami mess impact the business trends of that sort of anime, for example. Because it’s relevant. And less about how Bandai took off because of their business strategy in the 70s and 80s.
A repeated thing that I’ve seen in editorials is Japan’s inability to capitalize its status as a global trendsetter, to the degree that often their trendsetting ideas are exported by international giants (say, in fashion) that end up making the far majority of money and Japan getting little to no credit. At least in the realm of video games, this hasn’t been entirely the case (God bless … Sony? Nintendo? Sega?), but that’s a bit of the exception. Of course, it isn’t because Japan isn’t trying (at least in anime; they may very well be not trying in some other areas). But it isn’t like Pixar is notable for their love and use of the Ghibli work in their rise to being the best selling animation studio on earth or anything. I think the key lesson to take heart is that it isn’t Japan doesn’t get it or doesn’t do it right, but they’re just not reaping the benefits, or doing it wrong to harvest that positive benefit, the reward. It’s like winning the war but losing the treaty. [/wheel of morality]
Ok, let’s just ignore the last paragraph for now. Read these posts at Awesome Engine. It is like cranking that lever; it’s like hitting “start” on some simulation software. I’ve already long internalized these elements but it wasn’t clear to me as to how it all came together; which cog spins which way when whichever lever turns that direction. Now it makes more sense.
If you can only read one of those, check this. The NTV narrative is particularly enlightening, because when we distill the story by focusing on a single player, the various reasons why things happen condense into visible lines of rationale and rather than just noise in the air. I just have a few comments.
1. I agree in general that complaining about “moe pandering” is silly. It’s not so much a criticism as a means in which I sympathize with those people who got into anime because of 80s mecha shows or the various gory/sexploitation stuff. And then as time moves on, cultural trends and what sells changed. Consequently people are left in the dust if they couldn’t “grow up” with it. At least, that’s one aspect of looking at change in anime in the past 20-30 years. At the same time, it’s safe to say the context in which western fans are exposed to anime has also changed, and it impacts the way we perceive anime as well.
I’m a sci-fi person. And this day and age I have to take it where I can. Even if it’s crap like Index or Railgun. The era of Tylor and Nadesico is over, and honestly I’m not even sure if there are any good reasons to return to that kind of thing today. Maybe I’m just open-minded enough to get huge rise over the setting of Simoun or Xam’d, in contrast to some. Maybe I am tolerant enough to stomach the Heroic Ages of the world. I get by. I certainly don’t expect everyone who got into following anime to do what I did.
2. And it’s perfectly fine to stop. Some people “grow up” and “grow out” of being an anime fan, almost by design. Put away up your Kenshiro posters and gunpla? It makes sense as an observed behavior in American fandom, now that it has been relatively robust subculture for some time.
3. And because now America and the west is, at least in the middle of the last decade, a big source of revenue to Japan’s anime-related content industry, it needs a good look. The paragraph I told you to ignore? That stuff.
4. At the same time, NTV anime’s main target audience undoubtedly is its domestic crowd. It’s sort of an established fact (sort of only because I would have some difficulty citing) that what Japan likes in their domestic media is often not what the rest of the world likes. Since NTV’s anime draw from some pretty high profile mainstream manga, the success of their anime adaptations in the US might be a harbinger to the localization of critical (as in, not your Jump-type stuff), mainstream Japanese comics in America. It’s probably safe to say that things like Monster or Nana will sell, but neither would be able to engage with the US audience (or their pocketbooks) on the same level as the more maniac-inducing stuff like Evangelion or Cowboy Bebop. In fact outside of Ghost in the Shell and Death Note, I’m not sure which NTV anime would have really reaped some serious money, or even could. It isn’t to say shows like Ouran Host Club or Berserk (or many others) can’t make money, but it seems most of these titles have to aim low, or aim at a very specific group, to turn a profit.
Wideface Fishyard
Ever made sock puppets?
There is something magical about Hidamari Sketch. At least, to me. The latest episode helped to give me a control about how to study and compare this magical thing.
The Riri-Misato segment gave us a look at the life at Hidamarisou before Yuno and Miyako. Putting aside Misato and Riri, how was Hiro and Sae? And I mean it from the perspective of lead characters, not so much the point of the segment (which presumably is to give us another look at the Hiro-Sae relationship).
The thought has to come to some of us after seeing episode 9–what would happen if Hiro and Yuno switched places in the narrative? What if Hiro was the main character?
I’m not sure how to answer that question, but I actually think I would like it more. Yuno is wonderful, but it’s been 2+ seasons with her already. Maybe I’m just tired of seeing her all the time. And to be fair, maybe my endurance with Hiro might run thinner faster given the same length of time, I don’t know. The control, being just half an episode long, isn’t enough. The only thing left to demand is an entire show like that…right?
What magic? Oh, right. The fish. So besides Miyako always manages to crack me up, this same episode showed us a school of koi. What I love about them is that the shot is amusingly inaccurate, yet it conveys exactly the same feelings that I would have had if I saw the live action version of said school of fish. Plus, there’s just something funny about it. It isn’t quite a caricature, but it is. It isn’t quite in the same wideface style as the character designs, but it is.
Which is to say, there isn’t much different between a Yuno or a Hiro, besides our personal preferences. But there is something special in that water. It’s like “You’re healed!” every time that soap-thing drops into the pot.
