Week Nine

Anime: From Akira to Howl's Moving Castle

Chapter Seven:

Much of Napier's chapters that deal with gender in anime and Japanese society deal almost exclusively with girls and women. However, in this instance, Napier focuses on men, asserting that the idea of boys and men in modern Japanese society is in flux as much as that of women. The breakdown of traditional modes of masculinity has led to a wide range of possible identities for men, most meaningfully expressed in the medium of anime, which can cross between infinite genres and functions as a nonreferential realm that generates high levels of viewer identification. Napier sees the gradual darkening of themes presented in anime, even in children's anime, as being directly related to the increasingly problematic portrayal of male characters. This is, in earlier anime, like "Neon Genesis Evangelion" or "Akira", used to be manifested in neuroses of the male characters but in newer works, such as "Fruit's Basket", "InuYasha", and "Wolf's Rain" is being portrayed via the diea of the dual self (especially two distinct selves: one human, one animal).
Napier sees current portrayals of male characters - especially young male characters - as having roots in the "puer aeterna" - young men not yet able engage with society and in need of women to give meaning to their lives - of folklore characters like Urashima Taro. She sees this concept as being inherently linked to the idea of the "bishonen", which Wikiedia defines as: "a Japanese term meaning 'beautiful youth (boy)'. The term describes an aesthetic that can be found in disparate areas in Asia: a young man whose beauty (and sexual appeal) transcends the boundary of gender or sexual orientation."
According to Napier, the relation of these young men in anime to their father's is also indicative of the downgraded role of the father in the family. Japan's patriarchal system essentially disappeared after the war, meaning that many anime show a loss of or longing for a time when the father figure commanded genuine respect. As a result of the war, masculine identity is now bereft of it's historical meaning and young men must experiment with multiple notions of what it means to be "masculine" in post-war Japan. Especially in anime, this often reveals itself in the search for a coherent, masculine identity, which often entails encountering tragedy and mishap as a part of the search for identity.

Dan Cavallero, "The Anime Art of Hayao Miyazaki":

Cavallero's article on "Howl's Moving Castle" can be split into two distinct parts: the first deals with aspects of Diana Wynne Jone's novel of the same name which would have appealed to Miyazaki and the stylistic adaptations he made in turning the novel into a film, while the second focuses on the more technical aspect of Miyazaki's process of animating the film. Not being too well-versed in what steps are required to create an animated feature, the first part of the article was of more interest to me. Cavallero points out that the novel's focus on visual imagery and inclusion of a protagonist who was "shojo" in reality but much older in appearance must have appealed to Miyazaki's thematic sensibilities. However, he still took liberties with interpreting the novel's plot and characters. Furthermore, Miyazaki's film takes a more optimistic approach to human nature, imbuing characters like Howl and the Witch of the Waste with qualities which ultimately redeem them once they are given the opportunit to act on them. Furthermore, Sophie herself visually represents the conflicting nature of her mental and physical identities, with her appearance fluctuating between old woman, young girl, and every combination of the two in between. Miyazaki also takes opportunity of plot deviations to further his own interests or themes, such as including many scenes of flying, focusing strongly on an anti-militaristic, anti-totalitarian message, and keeping the identity of his characters in constant flux. Additionally, although a very "Western" fairy tale, Miyazaki's film strikes chords with many Japanese values, such as group affiliation, loyalty, and obligation to others. In effect, Miyazaki stays largely loyal to Jones' creation but also infuses it with his own flair, creating an artistic production that complements the original work as much as it can be unwaveringly referred to as a "Miyazaki" creation.

Week Eight

Anime: From Akira to Howl's Moving Castle

Chapter Ten:

Napier here looks at a form of shojo character more traditional than the young, androgynous figures found in Miyazaki: the "magical girlfriend" type. This genre of anime revolves around the boy-meets-girl scenario found everywhere in popular culture, but not only gives the girl in question magic, otherworldly qualities, but - in Napier's view - uses these themes to both explore changing notions of feminity and reaffirm traditional views of it. They are not calls to activism as Miyazaki's works tend to be, but reflections of current social undercurrents, not unlike the American sitcom. Because this genre privileges nontraditional lifestyles - where Japanese society as a whole tends to have little tolerance for it, Napier argues - it can examine the new role of women, family, and technology with ease. Napier examines three series - "Urusei Yatsura", "Oh! My Goddess", and "Video Girl Ai" - to prove this point. To her, Lum ("Urusei Yatsura") is the least conservative depiction of an otherwordly girlfriend. She is powerful, brash, aggressive, a failed homemaker, and hardly content to quietly suffer her love interest's indiscretions. However, as Napier points out, she also embodies an unwavering devotion to her less-than-worthy object of affection that provides a reassuring premise to the show: no matter what Ataru does, Lum will forgive him. In effect, Lum embodies contradictory images: that of the chaos believed to be brought by the newfound sexual and monetary independence of Japanese women - embodied in the chaos Lum's actions brings - and her traditionally-oriented emotional subordination to her man. Napier also sees the figure of Ataru's mother - who openly flirts with other "men", ignores her husband, and criticizes Ataru to no end - as being a reflection of the anxiety over what a mother's role in Japanese society is with the breakdown of the valorized mother-son bond.
While Napier characterizes Lum as both progressive and reactionary, to her, figures like Belldandy ("Oh! My Goddess") and Ai to be solely the latter; an expression of the fear of unleashed female sexuality seen in reactions to cultural phenomena like the Hanakozoku and "yellow cab" women. Belldandy is an escapist pleasure, and dream come true in her function of providing perfect domestic bliss. None of the scolding or chaos that comes with Lum comes with Belldandy. Ai is, while equally escapist in her function, at least more complex. She does not meet any of the viewer's expectations - or Yota's, for that matter - and serves to help her love interest grow as a person, arousing his more generous instincts and mature realizations.
To Napier, these narratives are so appealing to the West and East alike because they abandon much of the hypersexuality of our own media cultures, instead imbuing the idea of relationships with something deeper than sexuality: the restoration of woman as nurturer. And, importantly, unlike most other mediums of romantic story-telling, they are from a male point of view.

Week Seven

Herbert Marcuse, "Some Social Implications of Modern Technology":

Marcuse's article discusses the difference between "individualistic rationality" and "modern rationality." The first he sees as based on autonomous self interest and involving a reason that is critical of the world itself, whereas the latter is heteronomous where the individual is concerned making it subject to compliance and its concern with efficiency makes criticism impossible. Technology dominates over man because man's identification with the apparatus means his autonomy is subsumed by it. Marcuse sees the individual as having becoming standardized and "technological truth" is concerned only with the good of the apparatus, rather than the individual (in contrast to "critical truth" which is autonomous and objective and, thus, antagonistic to the apparatus). Marcuse views critical truths that have been put forth as having been coopted by the apparatus, citing the labor movement, which emerged in opposition to business but quickly became a sort of business of its own, with its own vested interest in the apparatus. However, Marcuse still believes technology is ultimately necessary in the realization of a utopia where man is fully autonomous, in that technology allows a triumph of scarcity of resources and can be a democratizing agent, if it weren't for the subverting hierarchies of business.

Donna Haraway, "A Cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and Socialist-Feminism in the Late 20th Century":

Read this article for another class last semester. Didn't really understand it then, don't really understand it now. Really hope we break it down in class...

Week Six

Andrew Feenberg, "Subversive Rationalization: Technology, Power, and Democracy":

Feenberg's article seeks to contradict the idea that democratic theory cannot be extended to the economy because modern technology is incompatible with workplace democracy. Insofar as modern industries depend on modern technology, they will be subject to authoritarian hierarchies. Theories which subscribe to this belief include those such as dystopian modernity (which argues that we as individuals have become subordinated to a "technical phenomenon", and, which Feenberg argues fails to distinguish between specific technologies which have developed in the last century in the West and modernity itself) and technological determinism (the assumption that technologies have an autonomous logic that can be explained independently of society, being intrinsically independent of the outside world, leading to one, comprehensive definition of modernity). Feenberg instead leans more towards ideas towards technology contained within theories like constructivism (that when resolving a technological problem, social factors inenvitable result in the decision to choose one of the many workable solutions, using the example of the evolution of the bicycle to meet safety concerns) and indeterminism (technological progress is not unilinear but branches in many directions and technological development is governed by both technical and social concerns). Feenberg asserts that technology can be interpreted on the basis of its social meanings (what the signficance of the object in society is determibnes how it evolves over time) and cultural horizon (the constrainment of techonological development by social norms). As a result of these things, there is room for environmental concerns to be worked in as an intrinsic part of technological development, just as other concerns have historically been (Feenberg brings up cases such as boiler safety and child labor). When the design process incorporates more concern with environmental compatability, there will be a new code that is an even deeper realization of non-economic values intersecting the technical code that has already been somewhat realized. In order for this to happen, democracy needs to be extended to technology via legal rights, initiative, and participation, routinizing claims that are now asserted informally.

"A Round-Table Discussion of the History and Philosophies that Shaped Princess Mononoke":

The most interesting aspects I pulled from the discussion (I'm not gonna lie, a lot of the historical and spiritual aspects being discussed were a bit over my head...):
1. How historical inaccuracies are not problematic in Miyazaki's works because the internal reality of the film's "literature" is more important than any basis in historical reality. Thus, it is possible for Miyazaki to set his films in a somewhat defined time period and still toy with its elements without being "misleading." As Miyazaki says, the world in his film takes place simultaneously in a place that exists and a place that doesn't.
2. The similarities between Miyazaki - as an animator - and another Japanese film gian, Akira Kurosawa - as a live-action director. One commentator sees a similarity in their focus on detail in creating beautiful imager and simultaneous despair toward the world and belief in the love between humans.
3. Miyazaki's own assertion that his film sought to look at human goodness rather than presenting a critical look at civilization. Though he admittedley examines environmental issues, Miyazaki argues he strives to prevent those who brought on environmental destruction as simply trying to lead a decent life for themselves.

Week Five

Anime: From Akira to Howl's Moving Castle

Chapter 9:

Napier's chapter on the idea of "the disappearing shojo" focuses on a trend she observes in the treatment of the shojo in anime over the past few decades: the creation of darker, more complex characters who, in their exploration of liminal worlds, seem to themselves critique various aspects of shojo/Japanese culture, often through their "disappearance" in the narrative. This theme of disappearance is one Napier sees as occurring again and again in Japanese folklore and fairytale. The idea behind it being the cultural paradigm that a woman must disappear to complete a tale's sense of sorrow and beauty. To show the common and divergent threads of this emerging theme, Napier examines four different works: "Utena", "Lain", "Spirited Away", and "Haibane Renmei." Each, in different ways, exposes the deepest values and fears of Japanese society. Utena tackles the question of reconciling two sides of one self: Utena's masculine, brave side and Anthy's soft, nurturing side. Utena's retreat from the fantasy world of dueling and princes also signals her recognition that real world concerns top goals only fulfilled in fantasy. Lain, on the other hand, Napier views as, "a sly critique of the ubiquity of the shojo", in the way Lain seems omnipresent in the web, on TV, and over cell phones. Lain's shojo mode of dress can also be interpreted as a protective layer from the real world. Her disappearance however, unlike Utena's, is for the greater good of society - to break down the wall between real world and web world - rather than of her volition. Napier next looks at Miyazaki's film, featuring the (at first) self-absorbed, whiny Chihiro. The work, according to Napier, is a critique on Japanese modern society, as seen in Chihiro herself and also her parents, who are greedy, irresponsible, materialistic, and see everything as being able to be solved by a credit card. Chihiro disappears from this world of superficial materialism to become part of a fantasy world, to a world containing more traditional figures (such as Gods), where she must learn to mature while holding on to her own identity in order to return to her parents and the real world. The strong themes of pollution in the bathhouse hint at the fragility of the traditional Japanese way of thinking in the modern world. Through various trials and tribulations, she learns various values of the "old way" before having her vision cleared and being able to return to the real world. I found the examination of "Haibane Renmei" less relevant and interesting, so I'm going to skip straight to Napier's conclusion...Which is that the idea of the shojo as a site of play and innocence is itself disappearing, to be replaced by the darker shojo, one who represents loss and absence, themes more relevant in the world of Japan, which itself may be seen as currently being between ideas (i.e. in a liminal world, as the shojo are presented) and caught between forgetting and remembering.

Week Four

Susan Napier, "Confronting Master Narratives: History as Vision in Miyazaki Hayao's Cinema of Deassurance":

Napier's article mostly elaborates on themes she only touched on regarding Miyazaki in her book. To start, she puts forth the idea that a society's historical narratives and ways of perceiving itself are, these days, largely controlled by mediums like film and television. The products of the entertainment industry hold great sway in cultivating a mass national identity based on a shared sense of history and values. Napier sees this trend as being especially present in the works of the Disney studio, a "cinema of assurance" as she calls it. The vision promoted is one where all the world's problems can be solved by sticking to American ideals and values. Even films which borrow mythology and characters from other cultures (e.g. Mulan) assign their protagonists and plot lines with values that are representative of current American trends, not the values of the culture/time period from which the story comes. Animation, however, Napier sees as far more subversive, often serving as a "cinema of deassurance" which criticizes both history and culture. As for Miyazaki, Napier points out that he often puruses the same humanistic messages as Disney, albeit in a different way: Miyazaki doesn't rework traditional myths of other cultures so much as incorporate elements of them into his own original vision, his characters tend to combine distinctly Japanese and distinctly Western characteristics (reflecting a harmonization between the concepts of Nihonjinron and Kokusaika in Japanese attitudes towards the West), he explores differences rather than attempting to reconcile them (Napier looks at attempts to reconcile such differences in the West through films like "Tarzan" and "The Lion King"), and he is often critical of popular notions of Japanese identity and history. Napier pays particularly close attention to Miyazaki's treatment of women, looking in depth at his departure from traditional heroines and dark undertones in plot in "Princess Mononoke" and it's three female protagonists: San, Lady Eboshi, and Moro.

Week Three

Japanamerica

Chapters 3 and 4:

Kelts moves from the phenomenon of anime's popularity in the West to an exploration of the industry itself, particularly how and why it has failed to capitalize on the massive profits to be made off of anime in countries like the United States. For one thing, the people interested in becoming animators have evolving expecatations. Whereas before an animator could expect to live with a low income but doing what he or she loved, the new generation of artists wants more. Despite Japan's economic slump, they expect to be able to wrangle a high-income and fast promotions out of animation as a business without putting the requisite time and effort in. However, the industry, despite a growing interest in anime both in Japan and the West and the limitless money-making potential of tie-ins (e.g. toys), has failed to predict the market. Used to marketing material goods like car parts and electronics abroad, Japanese businesses can't seem to latch onto any clear patterns of what Western viewers want, meaning that it is the West that is reaping the profits of Japanese animated hits in America. Additionally, at the same time as the industry is growing, the rapid demand of the West for new material means that the quality of material is dropping in order to meet time constraints. New generation animators haven't achieved the level of skill or attention to detail as the old masters and many of the more laborious animation processes are being outsourced to other Asian countries. Furthermore, the concern with making "hits" means that, soon, there is a danger of only certain types of anime being made, narrowing the diversity and intellectual depth that has made anime a respected medium in the first place. However, at the same time as appealing to a foreign market has its pitfalls, as the birth rate steadily drops in Japan, the industry has no choice but to find children abroad to market their products to. And, as the Pokemon craze in the States has proved, what a market the West is...

Anime: From Akira to Howl's Moving Castle

Chapter 13:

Napier begins by pointing out the fact that Japan and the West share a certain fascination with apocalyptic thinking. On a religious basis, however, Buddhism and Shinto do not envision the final battle between good and evil that is so prevalent in Western ideology. However, despite this religious distinction, much of the imagery of apocalypse between the two cultures is the same: mass destruction, gruesome deaths, and messianic figures. Napier sees a root in these destruction visions in, perhaps, the archipelago's vulnerability to earthquakes and volcanoes, as well as the dropping of the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Napier looks at animation as particularly adroit at portraying these destructive images as it is not boud by "the restrictions of language and live-action cinema." Napier sees further parallels with post-war ideology in the fact that most animated features revolving around apocalyptic or post-apocalyptic worlds contain inherent criticisms of societies that misused technology and allowed traditional social values to fall apart. Napier then goes on to examine four different works in the genre (Nausicaa, Akira, Neon Genesis Evangelion, and Legend of the Overfiend) to show the varying perspectives each takes on apocalypse and humanity. When dealing with "Nausicaa", Napier sees it as the most hopeful and optimistic of the works. Though human folly brought about destruction, there is hope for rebirth in the messianic figure of Nausicaa herself. As order and authority are eventually restored, Napier views it as an example of "conservative apocalypse." Napier sees this, much like the more pessimistic views of the other three films studies, as reflective of the period in which it was made (the 1980s, in which Japanese society showed a faith in the united middle class and optimism in what the future would bring.)

"Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art":

Not much to say about this one. It restated, in more depth, a lot of what other pieces touched on: the generally bad rap that comics get but how they have a basis in very old forms of art (from the Egpytians to the Aztecs to the Middle Ages), the instrinsic relation between comics and animation, and the fact that comics can really cover any subject matter.