Push Play: Real Life, No Embellishment

Second weekend in a row without a surfeit of viewing time (this weekend, though, the excuse was better than a Murder, She Wrote marathon – I was in Philadelphia attending a professional conference). But during the workweek and some welcomed downtime in the hotel room, I managed to get some serious quality time with my Crunchyroll account. My viewing this week saw a complete absence of magic, mecha or malevolence. Instead, the stories I enjoyed were smaller in scale, realistic in portrayal, and definitely relate-able emotionally.

I plowed through another 10 episodes of Chihayafuru (spanning from episode 12 through episode 21), and also watched Usagi Drop in its entirety (a compact 11 episodes). Be warned, there may be mild spoilers ahead.

I will avoid a blow by blow, episode by episode, analysis of the developments in Chihayafuru. Suffice it to say that the show continues to maintain its high level of quality – the art is consistent, the characters continue to develop in interesting and believable ways, and it easily holds the viewer’s interest and makes them curious to see what happens next. Episode 12, “Set These Forbidden Fields Aglow”, has a series of scenes that perfectly depict the love and pride that Chihaya’s parents feel for her (even if she sometimes doubts this fact). The following episodes have a flurry of developments that begin to bring Arata back into the story as more than just memory and speculation by Taichi and Chihaya.

The love triangle further develops. Though, in fairness, I am not sure love triangle is the best way to describe this – this is not a story of dramatic declarations of love. Rather, the burgeoning feelings of Chihaya, Arata and Taichi are subtly played out, with jealousies and insecurities and uncertainties sketched out and revealed in a way that any current or former teenager will readily recognize and empathize with.

But maybe what most affected me in this span of episodes was the changing opinion of the Empress (the team's advisor, a stern and intimidating teacher).  The Empress, over multiple episodes, comes to admire the team's dedication and to nurture them in their goals.  She even decides to forgo attending the tennis team's tournament in favor of chaperoning the karuta club to the national tournament in Omi Jingu.

Of course, there are also developments on the tatami mat. Players gain first victories, advance to higher classes, declare their goals boldly, discuss and hone strategies, and come to love karuta even more. We meet and get glimpses into the lives and motivations of karuta players who are not part of the Mizusawa team.  Earlier in the 10 episodes I watched, the team attends the nationals in Omi Jingu and Chihaya is able to take a first step toward her ultimate goal.

The second series I viewed this week was an utter delight and completely out of character for me. Usagi Drop (or Bunny Drop) is, at its heart, tells the story of how individuals become family. There are some excellent reviews of Usagi Drop that eloquently comment on the art (spare, simple and effective), as well as discussions of the plot and scope of the details laid out (again, spare and simple, concentrating on the realities of life) (for example, check out http://www.animenewsnetwork.com/review/usagi-drop/episodes-1).

As a person who is 99% sure she never wants children and who definitely finds puppies far cuter than babies or children, I was a bit stunned at how much Usagi Drop and the tale of Daikichi (a 30-year old bachelor) and Rin (a 6-year old girl, lovechild of Daikichi’s late grandfather) becoming a family of two affected me.  They meet for the first time as the family gathers at the grandfather's home for his funeral.  Daikichi appears to be the only family member to take more than a passing notice in Rin, who finds herself surrounded by family she has never met, an unwelcome surprise, and alone in the world.

It is intensely personal and sentimental, and this scale allows the story to be told around the realities of a formerly unattached man trying to learn to care for a young girl (not knowing which school backpacks are fashionable, dealing with Rin's anxiety when he is late to pick her up from school, learning slowly how to properly create ponytails).

Interestingly, it is a story told without any typical antagonists. True, the first episode shows Daikichi’s extended family as cold and unfair to Rin, but this soon changes when the shock wears off that the grandfather had an illegitimate child and when Rin (formerly nearly silent) comes out of her shell, thanks to the warmth and affection that Daikichi begins to show her. The only other candidate for villain or antagonist would be Rin’s biological mother. But even here, the story makes the point to reveal her to be imperfect, odd, but very human. She is fleshed out as a young woman with her own dreams and an inability to care for and love her daughter in the necessary way. You do not leave the show liking Rin’s mother, but you at least see her as a complex and insecure individual (who, in many ways, is more childlike than her daughter).

From Daikichi making difficult decisions about his career ambitions as a result of becoming Rin’s guardian, to Rin blossoming into a smart, strong and caring girl (her reaction to younger children and her peers throughout the series is endearing), to the interaction between Rin and Daikichi (especially love when Rin posits that she is too old to be held and read to), the show’s 11 episodes are masterful in how they paint a picture of this impromptu family using subtle strokes of detail. It is the various discrete details – scenes of them brushing their teeth, grocery shopping, sharing a smile, figuring out Rin's size for clothes – that makes their family life come alive. The details are small details, but they resonate. My only complaint is that I wanted more episodes to see Rin and Daikichi continue to grow up and grow together.

Push Play: Something Old, Something New(ish)

This weekend did not find me with a lot of free time for anime viewing.  OK, that isn't accurate.  I got sucked into the Murder, She Wrote marathon on the Hallmark Channel.  Inexcusable for a dedicated anime otaku, but there it is.  Despite the inscrutable wiles of Mrs. Jessica Fletcher, I did manage to squeeze in an old classic as well as catch up on some additional episodes of a newer show.  Be warned, THERE BE (MILD) SPOILERS HERE!

After knocking out most of my errands and chores on Sunday (and having wrestled my attention away from the mysterious goings on in Cabot Cove, Maine) I managed to push play on not only my DVD player, but also my iPad.  One of the bonuses to Crunchyroll viewing of subbed titles is that sound becomes more atmospheric and less necessary for clear understanding.  This means it is the idea tool for use while under a hairdryer on my weekly task of washing and straightening my hair.

So Sunday found me with my hair rolled, sitting on a stool in my kitchen, my ears slowing heating up to unbearable warmness, cradling my iPad on my lap.  My Crunchyroll app opened and two more episodes of Chihayafuru streaming into my greedy hands.

Episode 10 of Chihayafuru ("Exchange Hellos and Goodbyes") finds the Mizusawa karuta club at the Tokyo regionals.  Though they are a club, they have not really gelled into a team yet.  In the lead up episodes, Chihaya has recruited enough players to create the requisite five-person team.  We have seen her shortcomings as a leader, but also her passion and knack for inspiring others.  We have also gotten to know Taichi (part of the rather unequal romantic triangle) better and seen his natural insight into others and inherent leadership abilities come to the fore.  Though there aren't really any surprises in the episode, this doesn't mean the episode is disappointing or rote.  Instead, the prior episodes have begun the process of sketching out the characters in realistic detail.  And that detail means that we can begin to anticipate some of the interactions and find a satisfaction as the characters conform to and sometimes upset our expectations.

Episode 10 and Episode 11 ("The Sky is the Road Home") are really companions, telling the story of the the Mizusawa karuta club forging itself into a team.  It also reveals that Chihaya has been constantly texting/emailing Arata, reaching out to him with details of their karuta progress and hopes to make it to finals.  The episodes do a lovely job of highlighting her feelings for Arata (which Taichi appears to understand better than she does herself). 

Arata also makes a brief (and fairly silent) appearance in the 11th episode.  Though his lines are few and inconsequential, his actions speak volumes.  With just a small gasp, anxious glances at a clock, and the cocking of his head to the side to look at a picture Chihaya has sent of her (of course) victorious karuta team, we get a feeling for Arata's loneliness and continued affection for the friends he left behind and for karuta.  The episode is beautifully done and the emotions all feel genuine.  Even the antagonists of the episode (the Hokuo Academy's experienced and aggressive karuta team) are not left as one-dimensional foes.  Though one opposing team member does play mind games with Chihaya, the show nonetheless fleshes him out and shows his motivation.  And that motivation is not mean-spirited, but comes from a purer place.

Having had my dose of sincerity and competitive karuta, you might think I'd be ready for some sterner, darker, more cynical fare.  If those adjectives can be applied to a "children's" film that, then I did partake in a

more serious tale (albeit wrapped in family friendly, Studio Ghibli trappings). 

Porco Rosso tells the tale of an Italian airmen who happens to be a pig.  No really ... a man-sized pig.  He is the victim of a curse (which is only tangentially mentioned and never fully explained).  The tale takes place post-World War I and, though mostly a light-hearted children's tale, does not shy away from mentioning the fascist government of Italy and touching upon the unpleasantness of war.  It also addresses sexism and, like many of Hayao Miyazaki's works, features a strong, smart and spunky heroine.  That heroine, Fio, is a young aircraft engineer.  Her introduction to Porco lets Miyazaki highlight a strong argument that one not be judged by gender or youth, but by one's abilities.  And as Fio completes a design for fixing and even rebuilding Porco's crippled plane, Miyazaki underlines his point by having the plane assembled by women from the village (young, old and ancient).  Though Porco initially protests, Fio's grandfather points out that with all the men away there is not a choice and, besides, they do good work. 

It is hard to explain why this movie works so well.  It is most definitely appropriate for children, but has enough serious subject matter to interest adults.  With a male protagonist in the body of an anthropomorphized pig, it almost feels like a fable.  The story is simple and does not have many narrative demands, which allows it to unfurl unhurriedly while sketching out the political realities of the fictional world.  Maybe I just enjoyed having serious topics considered, without having politics shoved down my throat or having to feel like the topics were dumbed down.  Everything felt natural - from the content geared toward children to the refusal to ignore the realities of the world.  All in all, not a bad way to spend a Sunday evening.