Konshuu Volume 57, Issue 1

Fischl & Rikka Takanashi Genshin Impact & Chuunibyou Demo Koi Ga Shitai!

Art By Cas Geiger

KONSHUU

vol. 57 #1

Tropes

KONSHUU | Volume 57, Issue 1

WHY CAN’T KALLEN GET ANY PERSONAL SPACE?!

NICHOLAS WONOSAPUTRA

Writer

4th Year, Neurobiology and Psychology

So… where’s the new season?

One of the reasons why I fell in love with Code Geass’ style of storytelling was because of its precise selection of anime tropes that built on ideas that I liked seeing in other media, while subverting my expectations of what it’s like to watch anime. There’s so little I would change about it, as the bizarre, off-beat moments of levity and melodrama driven by the use of these tropes lend themselves to creating a thoroughly engaging viewing experience. Honestly, I’d like to celebrate that by talking about how its school setting is actually integral to the rhythm of its storytelling, but that’ll have to wait for another time. Instead, I wanted to ask: Why can’t Kallen get any personal space?!

Anyone familiar with Code Geass will instantly know what I’m talking about. There are an absurd amount of instances where someone either walks in on Kallen taking a shower, or something important interrupts her shower time before she could even put clothes on. Half of these could even be considered lore-critical because both Lelouch and Suzaku somehow stumble upon opportunities to manipulate her during these aforementioned moments of vulnerability.

Now, Code Geass, like many other anime of its tone and aesthetic, tends to feature plenty of overt, and necessarily absurd, scenes of sexualization for most characters in the show, guys and gals alike. Most of the time it’s played for comedy, and other times, such as Nina’s affection for tables, this “fanservice” plays an important role in characterization.

However, no other character is consistently shown through a specific fanservice trope like Kallen and her beloved shower. This feels like it’s meant to be played as a running joke, but it doesn’t come across that way to me because it doesn’t describe anything

about the character. Like, what, she’s particular about being clean? Even with the benefit of the doubt, the best I can come up with is that she likes feeling comfortable, so she showers so often to get rid of sweat, supposedly more than Suzaku does. However, the thing that makes me uncomfortable with these scenes is that Kallen herself seems really uncomfortable and out of her element for the sake of cheap gap moe.

These scenes are also so irritating because they could easily be replaced with scenes that actually show something unique about Kallen’s daily activities, routine, and hobbies. We could have instead interrupted her while she’s air drumming to a rock song while half-reading the Guren’s manual and wearing civilian clothes, or when she’s trying to find ways to be productive and survive in new environments like the island by building a shelter, securing food, and collecting (non-shower) water. I would like to take this moment to remind everyone that Kallen has the top grades in her classes despite her absences and is a tactically-minded individual. The only reason why she doesn’t always come across as a genius is because she lives in a world filled with absurdly intelligent individuals that also happen to have superpowers, so she’s not particularly special in this regard. But, at the very least, her first reaction to finding herself stranded on an island wouldn’t be “man, I better use that clean, fresh water to take a shower right now.”

Perhaps, due to an assortment of corporate, and even creative, factors, there needs to be a quota of “fanservice” moments to maintain the engagement of a specific, yet statistically unclear, portion of the audience. Putting my skepticism of the notion that this is a significant portion of the viewing population aside, the most interesting, expressive, and, yes, attractive way to portray Kallen is to show her life as a multi-faceted one. Doing so would demonstrate that her multitasking capabilities are on-par with Lelouch’s, which would be fascinating to unpack, as well as lore-accurate.

KONSHUU | Volume 57, Issue 1

AMNESIA IN ANIME: UNEXCEPTIONAL OR UNFORGETTABLE? RAHM JETHANI

Managing Editor

1st Year, Japanese

...I forgot what I wanted to say.

Within anime and manga, amnesia is a heavily utilized trope.

It has seen so much usage that it has developed a negative association with cheap storytelling and underwhelming plot twists, despite it being used for the opposite effect. However, despite the commonality of this trope, it appears time and time again. This may be for a few reasons, although the most common usage is for an amnesiac protagonist to serve as a way for information to be conveyed to the audience while maintaining immersion.

An example of this type of storytelling occurs in 07-Ghost, where the amnesiac Teito Klein is introduced to a fantastical world with completely different rules than our own. Through him, the audience is diegetically shown how the world of 07-Ghost functions. Within the anime (and more throughout the manga), Teito recovers his memory, which recontextualizes his presence in the world. This is done carefully so as to not overwhelm the audience, and it efficiently builds a strong connection between the viewers and the show. This type of amnesia in anime and manga is probably the most inoffensive yet boring type.

Some anime try to put a spin on the amnesia trope, whether through creative nonlinear storytelling, or through prolonging its effect on the plot to create a profound climax. An example of the latter type working effectively is presented within Angel Beats!. It starts off with our amnesiac protagonist, Yuzuru Otonashi, waking up in the afterlife. Like with Teito, the audience sees through Otonashi’s eyes how the world works. All of this is the same.

An important difference between this show compared to others, however, is the handling of how Otonashi’s memories are revealed. Many shows, such as Code Geass R2, handle the revelation of a character’s memories very poorly, often feeling like filler content or an afterthought. In the case of Angel Beats!,

something unusual is done. Otonashi’s memories are revealed just around halfway through the show, and while they certainly influence the story, the big emotional impact of his past hits hard in the last episode. This is effectively a sort of memory reveal in terms of its function, but the unique position of these characters having died allows the writers to create memorable moments, culminating in an unforgettable finale.

Amnesia within stories is inherently going to create nonlinear moments through flashbacks. So, what can make these flashbacks engaging without breaking the flow of the narrative? To find that answer, there is perhaps no better example than the Pandora Hearts manga (as the anime was discontinued).

Pandora Hearts explores amnesia wonderfully through its plot twists. What makes them effective is in what is recontextualized. Or, more importantly, who.

Pandora Hearts, summarized briefly, is about a boy and a girl – Oz and Alice – who are trying to discover the meaning behind supernatural events that have overtaken their lives. Alice has amnesia, and in a sense, Oz does as well. The story introduces many characters who, through Alice’s and Oz’s flashbacks, are revealed to be more deeply involved than initially thought. No one in this story is who they appear, and this makes the recollection of memories so crucial. So many stories use amnesia to reveal plot twists that change the narrative, but by using it to fundamentally change multiple characters’ natures, more excitement and tension can be invoked (this must be carefully done, though). Pandora Hearts masterfully uses amnesia as a plot device, and the way it’s used is able to keep the nonlinear nature of flashbacks interesting.

While amnesia is super common in anime and manga, it can be used to create amazing moments if done right. So many do amnesia wrong, but exceptional outliers can hopefully encourage better storytelling within the medium. Since this trope has no signs of slowing down, the best thing to do is to utilize it differently than any series before to create an unforgettable masterpiece.

KONSHUU | Volume 57, Issue 1

Mercury & Joseph Original Characters Art By Skylar Li

KONSHUU | Volume 57, Issue 1

Ren Yamashiro

Mato Seihei No Slave Art By Catherine Rha

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THE APPEAL OF KARA NO KYOUKAI TONY T.

Editor-In-Chief

3rd Year, Economics and Data Science

The music is also superb.

The Kara no Kyoukai films are an interesting bunch. Adapted from Nasu Kinoko’s independently released novel series of the same name, they hold a somewhat interesting role in history given the time of their original release in the late 1990s. Given the relatively recent emergence of light novels and visual novels as dominant mediums of otaku consumption in the past twenty or thirty years, the Kara no Kyoukai novels released at a point where less industry-reliant and more independent works became more prominent. The release of Nasu’s seminal Fate/Stay Night visual novel is perhaps a more obvious example, though the ties between that behemoth and Kara no Kyoukai afford the latter a role almost as a sort of herald for times to come. The main Kara no Kyoukai animated adaptation, released in the form of seven films between 2007 and 2009, holds a similar role, albeit in a different context. Today, ufotable is one of the most well known studios in the industry, with series like Kimetsu no Yaiba and Fate/Zero standing out. Yet, their work prior to Kara no Kyoukai could charitably be described as non-hits – it’s not often you hear the mainstream audience discuss, say, Gakuen Utopia Manabi Straight! or Futakoi Alternative. It seems obvious to draw a corollary line between the studio’s superb adaptation of Nasu’s work and their true breakout hit in the Fate/Zero anime, a light novel strongly tied to Nasu’s wider meta universe.

While nothing in the previous paragraph indicates my perception of these series’ quality (in fact, I quite dislike Kimetsu no Yaiba and most Fate properties aside from Zero), I think it’s useful context to illustrate why the main seven Kara no Kyoukai films are so resoundingly interesting. Given the novels and films’ roles in terms of widening the audience for otaku media to a more mainstream demographic, it’s surprising how the series’ strengths, particularly in the fifth film, lie in far more understated aspects. Frankly speaking, the series’ narrative isn’t that interesting to me. To an extent, it’s rather typical for what one might expect from a light novel as it places a large focus on teenage character dynamics and the overall concept of finding oneself. Granted, Kara no Kyoukai is a bit edgier than more modern releases in its medium, tackling somewhat sensitive subject material than what one might expect. One could also reasonably argue that the formulaic elements are mostly not the fault of Kara no Kyoukai, but rather the result of later imitators. Still, the actual storyline of the films is almost entirely superfluous to their quality.

The majority of light novel adaptations are somewhat hard for

me to get through. I owe this to a plethora of aspects, but chief among them is a general overemphasis on verbal explanations as opposed to clever visual directing, likely the fault of studios directly adapting from source material. After all, within the literary medium, everything is, by necessity, described using words.

Monologues seem especially popular amongst light novel authors. This can have a rather negative effect when transitioning to an audiovisual medium like an anime series or film. Simple monologues get transformed into agonizingly protracted voiceover segments where things the audience is supposed to feel are instead described to them while the visuals stay static. There’s obvious exceptions like the Monogatari series which emphasized interesting directing while still keeping the series’ overblown monologues, but the manner in which Kara no Kyoukai handles it is perhaps more impressive. Since the actual quality of direction varies wildly through each of the main films, I’ll discuss them in separate parts, starting with the first one.

Overlooking View highlights many of the series' strengths, particularly in atmospheric storytelling. Dialogue isn’t nearly as dense compared to most light novel adaptations, as the film follows the incessantly repeated (though still valid) assertion that films ought to show, not tell. Though viewers are probably incredibly confused in this film, as the films’ non-chronological release order actually render this film the fifth in a more direct narrative viewing sense, I would argue that is itself the main intention. Rather than being caught up in the storyline, the film focuses on getting the audience invested in other elements, namely the characters’ strange interactions and the cinematography. Many shots in the film instead draw attention to the rather beautiful and almost hypnotizing backgrounds. ufotable’s use of digital techniques such as light gradients became far more pronounced during the 2010s, though this film series is a first indication of what came after, as the techniques are particularly suited for the sort of urban fantasy that Kara no Kyoukai strives towards.

The second film, A Study in Murder – Part 1, is perhaps my least favorite out of the main seven. Focusing far less on ambience and interesting direction and placing emphasis on the most uninteresting aspect of the series, its narrative, the second film does little to show why Kara no Kyoukai is an interesting series worth discussing. The production values are still fairly interesting, with ufotable showing off glimpses of their future as a studio renowned for digital effects mastery. My assertion of A Study in Murder – Part 1 as the worst in the main series still renders it a decent 6/10 in my scale as it still features certain trademark strengths of the series as a whole. But other than that, the film’s overwhelming emphasis on the generic teenage angst character dynamics is its biggest weakness. Movie 2 is almost the direct inverse of the third film, Remaining Sense of

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Pain. Dealing with perhaps the most heavy subject material, Remaining Sense of Pain manages to carefully tread the line in being sensitive to a topic that has real-world implications, while also utilizing its antagonist’s complex backstory in a manner that makes logical sense. While the third film is like the second one in a sense, by focusing a decent bit on character drama, they differ wildly in execution. Remaining Sense of Pain has a great narrative that doesn’t feel trite, along with the superb direction that really made the first film. The most notable aspect of the film, which somewhat extends to the series itself, is its use of lighting in unique and varied ways, something which really emphasizes a unique urban fantasy/horror feel.

There seems to be a bit of a trend with the Kara no Kyoukai films in terms of the odd ones being the more renowned ones in narrative and mise en scène. In fact, everyone I’ve discussed the series with almost universally has movies 1, 3, 5, and 7 above movies 2, 4, and 6. This becomes evident with the fourth entry, The Hollow Shrine. The film is by far the most sparse storywise out of the main series, instead opting to focus on protagonist Shiki’s internal thoughts while lying comatose in a hospital. Much of the film progresses with her monologue, with the events that do occur outside of Shiki’s mind still generally centered around how other characters react to her physical state. To lend a bit of credit, what The Hollow Shrine attempts is something I’ve praised other media for. The last two episodes of Neon Genesis Evangelion infamously focused predominantly on its characters’ psychology. I consider those two episodes to be perhaps my favorite out of the entire series. There’s a strong difference between Evangelion and Kara no Kyoukai, though.

Evangelion has an entire cast of truly interesting characters with deep rooted flaws that the audience is brought to care about intensely. On the other hand, Kara no Kyoukai’s cast is, as previously mentioned, rather dull. There isn’t that much about their struggles that really speak to me in a personal manner because the story as a whole isn’t nearly as universal in its pathos. Having said that, The Hollow Shrine is still probably better than the second film with its attempt at being unique in its presentation along with being a very brisk 45 minutes in length.

When discussing the Kara no Kyoukai films, the fifth is usually considered the greatest due to its fantastic atmosphere and setting, gorgeous animation, and intriguing storyline coupled with a unique structure. Simply put, I agree with the consensus.

While all the films emphasize the setting as a sort of hellhole of urbanity with unspeakable horrors lying around every corner and apartment, Paradox Spiral is the entry which best embodies that. The film mainly centers around a strange apartment complex viewed from two separate perspectives, slowly building up the mystery of the building’s true nature. There’s this palpable looming dread pervasive through every scene set in said complex. A friend of mine once described the film’s ambience as being a sort of gothic twist on the comforting liminality present in iyashikei works such as Aria, a description I believe is apt. In addition to having an interesting sense of space, the film complements this with strange camera angles and strong music usage. As a whole, Paradox Spiral is a masterpiece in almost every regard. While it still ultimately follows the wider storyline of Kara no Kyoukai and is thus imperfect given how said story is a rather uninteresting light novel plot, its contained narrative of a man coping with his sanity is fantastic. It’s dynamic, feels significant, and overall works well with the film’s direction. If there is one film that encapsulates the best parts of this franchise, it’s Paradox Spiral.

It’s probably the result of the perpetual post-movie 5 hangover that always looms over this film due to its inherent place in the watch order, but prior to my latest rewatch, I never liked the sixth film, Oblivion Recording. I felt that it was overall rather uninteresting with a far more pedestrian plot and rather silly characters, an aspect which seemingly clashed with the more serious elements of the franchise as a whole. I have since changed my mind. While nothing like Paradox Spiral, Oblivion Recording is an interesting entry in the franchise which may not compare to the more atmospheric odd-numbered films, but complements them in a very different way. Its main character is far less serious and its plot less focused, but frankly, movies 2 and 4 show that taking these light novel plots too seriously can be kind of a drag.

Instead, Oblivion Recording opts for a tone I might compare to K-On! or some other slice of life series. Of course, it does have its serious moments, but the film isn’t nearly as dense with those compared to earlier entries. I think the biggest difference in my latest watchthrough has been in understanding the intentions of movie 6 as a sort of palette-cleansing intermission between the fifth and seventh movies which are very serious in their tone. As such, rather than negatively viewing Oblivion Recording for its differences, I now find that said distinctions create a welcome contrast that not only separates the film from the others, but also enhances the inter-film structure as a whole.

While A Study in Murder – Part 2 is great in the same ways that all the odd-numbered entries are great, it has noticeable flaws which were more apparent upon later viewings. Namely, the film can get rather meandering with its storyline. While I used to compare this film favorably to the first one, the difference in runtimes makes them actually rather close in quality. Movie 1 accomplishes less than the seventh, but it’s only 50 minutes compared to A Study in Murder – Part 2’s 120 minute runtime. Though the latter has a higher quantity of better directed scenes, it also drags far longer. Beyond that, Overlooking View is more unique in terms of the mood it conveys, a result of the seventh film needing to complete up several mysteries and storylines as the conclusion. In spite of the negativity I’ve just expressed, I ultimately enjoy the last Kara no Kyoukai film quite a bit for the same reasons the others are great. The film has the unfortunate task of being the finale in a series where the story isn’t quite as important compared to other elements, but it still concludes the series in a good fashion.

The Kara no Kyoukai films are an interesting bunch. Taken separately, many of them are unique and interesting pieces of art within the medium of animation, strengthened by acutely great direction. Put together, they are a cohesive set of films that work well, albeit occasionally weighed down by the inherent trapping of being adapted from a light novel. With the early digital animation era being a time period where I believe anime were visually dull, I consider Kara no Kyoukai to be one of the first truly good looking digital anime. The ways in which it succeeded are largely what made its production studio succeed as it was an adaptation of a work with an existing fanbase which had strong visual flare due to digital effects. Beyond that more mainstream assessment, the films are perhaps the most strong from an artistic perspective. In its production methods, appeal to more auteur style directing, and overall ties to various industry forces, Kara no Kyoukai was an outlier that heralded the 2010s era of anime to come. Yet still, the films stand out for simply being superb works of art that do not necessarily need to be held within this historical context to be admired.

KONSHUU | Volume 57, Issue 1

THE 2 ₵ENT ₵ ₵ORNER ORNER What anime trope do you absolutely love every time you see it?

Given that this is our first issue this semester, what do you look forward to this semester with Konshuu?

I absolutely love seeing transformation sequences! Anything like Sailor Moon, Bleach, and Dragon Ball always have entertaining and badass transformations. Plus, they add hype and badass moments to tense situations.

For this semester with Konshuu, I look forward to learning about more interesting anime and manga :)

I love it when characters become insanely powerful right before defeat. Showing that even at defeat they still have something inside them to continue fighting.

Rahm Jethani Managing Editor

Heaven Jones

I can't wait for the anthology! I feel like I see some of the writers and artists' best work in there and it is great to see new work too.

Artist

Deals/pacts/contracts/covenants! I have a special soft spot for selling-your-soul or deal-with-the-devil characters.

Skylar Li

Really looking forward to admiring more amazing art! I’m always excited to see each issue’s art and I’m always amazed by the sheer talent at Konshuu.

Artist

It's not exclusive to anime whatsoever, but callbacks that build upon minor details of previous episodes that establish continuity.

How the magazine will evolve under Tony's dictatorship.

Max R. Writer

The incredibly overconfident tactician trope, it either creates hype or results in hilarity

Articles and art of things I've never heard of to expand my horizons Nicholas Wonosaputra Writer

Chuunibyou! Watching a character that's quite literally just some guy genuinely think they're magical is silly but endearing to me.

Definitely looking forward to the fun themes in upcoming issues & what other writers and artists will come up with!

Cas Geiger Artist

KONSHUU | Volume 57, Issue 1

Gen Asagiri

Dr. Stone Art By Catherine Chen

KONSHUU | Volume 57, Issue 1

DIVINE YOUTHFULNESS/GRAND ANIME AND THE ANTIPHONAL NEW SAVIOUR ALEXANDRE HAÏOUN-PERDRIX

Writer

3rd Year, Philosophy

Sad to say, but if you are a Berkeley student, you are probably already too old to become an anime Messiah.

SPOILERS FOR NAUSICAA! Slices of life have been part for long of the manga-cum-anime galaxy; recently, some have even been able to grasp a greater share of the public’s attention than maybe ever, in particular Bocchi the Rock, which the author of this article has not seen and about which he will subsequently not talk here. Nor about any slice of life at all, as a matter of fact. Both their survival and their recent thriving means that they have able to perdure also as a concept, which was by no way evident: so reduced, minimal is the way they distinguish themselves, that it must mean that this way of being is enough to make them fairly different from the bulk of the aforementioned galaxy. That is, most of its elements must follow a more crucial framework — deal with stakes more important, and often which amounts to a form of emergency. Thereby it is possible to conceive a spectrum with at its one end slices of life (albeit not only) and at its other end anime marked by the need to solve a terrible crisis. (This does not mean, of course, that this very end of the spectrum has any monopoly over for instance strong emotions, which slices of life and elements of intermediary statuses manage just as efficiently to provoke, sometimes even more.) This second end will be named grand anime. Although it is an extreme genre, it might designate a significant share of the galaxy: threats to the world, a country, a considerable number of lives, or even a dramatic emphasis on the menace over one only, especially if characterised by emergency, are no uncommon basis for an anime or manga scenario. More remarkable, albeit easily explainable as well, is the preponderance in such cases of protagonists both young and, in a certain way, messianic. They are that one or those either whom a superior power has anointed so that they perform the promised salvation, or who through their pure and high soul (higher than those of most other characters) and extraordinary abilities are the sole to be able to do it.

The reason why grand anime have known such proliferation is quite obvious: their very defining feature (the extreme value of stakes) is valuable in itself, since it is enough to attract readers and spectators at first, and to keep their heart beating more rapidly than the plot progresses. Extreme stakes also most often imply extreme events happening and thereby, extreme emo-

tions and extreme (how surprising) attachment to the central characters. Just like slices of life, to which it is frequently very easy to relate, grand anime have an excellent economic reason to be and to continue to do so. The relatable character, however, is not impossible to attain even in such works: the easiest way is obviously to look for the highest degree of similarity between the public targeted and the characters to whom it must become attached. Hence the banal and nonetheless… extreme preponderance of young characters as protagonists. Making them messianic might subsequently just appear as a means to stay on the right side of this public, and this amazing proportion, as the unavoidable outcome of a merely financial reasoning from scenarists, publishers, studios and platforms.

But sufficient as this explanation might be, in no way does it mean that no other possible cause has fostered this predominance, let alone that is the main one. Hayao Miyazaki, who is rarely associated in the mind of people with commercialism, is one of the best representatives of grand anime. Out of his ten or eleven films, between four and five fall in this category, amidst which three have youngsters as protagonists (rather than mere young protagonists, in which category it would have been possible to add Ponyo). Mononoke and Nausicaa leave no right to doubt regarding the messianic trait of their heroes (the question of The castle in the sky being a little less certain). And if Ashitaka and Mononoke appear to be truly messianic, Nausicaa in her dedicated film is more simply a Messiah, being both the one promised by an ancient prophecy and possibly the most iconic recent embodiment of moral purity in the anime-cum-manga galaxy with Tohru from Fruits Basket. Moreover, her abilities were by no way bestowed upon her: this is thanks to them that she may assume her messianic destiny, but because of her research, her behaviour and her principles that she detains them.

She opens the door to a more satisfying explanation of the trope of messianic youngsters: in their youthfulness resides

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both their purity and their potential to change the world. (That is, the circumscribed realm in which the anime or manga takes place, be it the whole universe or a country lost in snowy mountains with barely one thousand inhabitants.)

Their newness makes them indeed more easily morally pure (that is, literally, “untainted” by any worldly corruption). Rarely (albeit fortunately sometimes… for the sake of the diversity of plots, of course) do grand anime look like William Golding’s Lord of the Flies: evil is to be found in adults, whose age has taken away the innocence and what they now consider as charming but unproductive illusions. For the world to be washed from this dirt, one needs beings whose eyes are not blinded thereby. This is a role youngsters perform most easily: they were not part of this world until recently, and its pollution has subsequently at worst began to cover parts of their skin. They are, so said Hannah Arendt, “new worlds in the human world”: they bring with them their fresh sight into the place wherein all the sights, the conceptions, the opinions and the actions encounter one another, which means they are a chance for it as a whole to be renewed — made out to be younger itself — and even saved. Messianic characters do not really come from, but into the world they are to save. It is all but a specific feature of anime, rather a very common one in political conceptions (even when they happen to be conservative, in which case the new generation is sometimes seen as that which will perhaps refrain the flow of the intermediary), and not only the extreme versions thereof.

What might look like the most hopeful, heartwarming characteristic of grand anime when they include a messianic youngster is in some occasions, however, the manifestation of either great bitterness or some kind of grimness, particularly regarding the world in front of which this character is placed. Be this trait inside the heart of the scenarists or supposed by them to meet some equivalent in the heart of their spectators, it consist of something which may oscillate between , as well as mix both, an association of resignation and despair and one of indignation and incomprehension — refusal to accept that something in the cruelty of this world may be accepted or ignored. The youngster appears to be both the perfect public and character to express such feelings: his age is more often that if revolt than any other. His being able to perceive (or his believing to perceive, in no way does it matter) this unacceptability, which because of its greatness is an excellent kind of stake on which to base grand anime, is allowed by his being as said earlier a new world. But precisely, the ancient world is not only dirty, here: it is fundamentally, almost intrinsically corrupted and so are its adults, those out of whom it is made. Whether it contaminated them or they contaminated it, no one needs to know: what matters is that, for moral values to win, this world has to be vanquished, if not destroyed and rebuilt — “revolution has to be brought to it”. This will to destroyed the world, legitimated by its indubitable evil nature, does not necessarily gives birth to messianic characters: very often, this desire to take it over and make it one’s own or annihilate it is the main goal of the antagonists of grand anime, in a loose way in Mononoke, in a much impressive one in the well-known Akira.

However, terrible as this world might be, not for it to be enough to break the protagonists or their resolution to offer it salvation.

This endurance, this incorruptible purity is even one more proof of their messianic status. Not to be able to keep going, a very huma, trait, is on the contrary a painful reminder that neither purity nor youthfulness always mean the ability to save oneself, let alone that to be messianic (which few films do illustrate better than Isao Takahata’s Kaguya). Although Nausicaa, as always, perfectly fits the bill, Utena, since its protagonist resists on a wider temporal scale (for herself as well as for spectators who follow her on little less than forty episodes), could be a better available example. One needs not never waver to conserve his messianism; what matters is that one never falls, and so does Utena. Or more justly, if one ever falls, it must not be his own fault.

And that, for messianic characters are not always Messiahs.

They might be able to bring salvation but fail: it is the most powerful way for a scenarist to convey his view, if it is that of a world doomed because of its own corruption, which is a defining feature of its nature. It happens that because they knew nothing of (that is, had not experimented) the conflicts of this world (which preserved their purity), these characters are destroyed by them, having tried at too great expense to mitigate or stop them. Disillusioned characters might have been unable to solve those conflicts, like Yupa in Nausicaa; but their knowledge (especially their practical knowledge) thereof at least enables them to face it with lesser risks and sometimes more refined competences.

It is, still, this very fact that they try to save everyone, be it against reasonableness, which makes them all the more deserving. Their impossible mission, which they accept as a duty whereas it had frequently no reason to be so, is such that it precisely takes a messianic character to accomplish it. Herewith come the direst and the brightest situations and actions as well — the greatest hopes and fears; here the most desirable climax is reached, through happy ending or pure tragedy.

VOLUME 57, ISSUE 1 FEBRUARY 9, 2023

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