Hige vs. Otaku

Naruto Chapter 364 Review

Well, not only do we get a spangly colour spread this week but Kishimoto has blessed us with a rather excellent chapter, as well.

I say that with mild surprise because Naruto of late has rarely been anything more than very readable. This chapter, however, had a lot of weight to it. Itachi's scene in the rain, possibly crying over the supposed loss of Sasuke-hime, caught me unaware with how quietly emotive it was. Kishimoto's attempts at 'touching moments' in recent Naruto have been pretty shallow and trite (I'm still bitter over Asuma and that god-awful Sakura emo scene), but this - while not being breathtaking by any means - was quite affective.

We've been presented with a couple of dramatic reveals over the past two chapters (it must be the end of a volume) and while 363's introduction of the final two Akatsuki members Pain and his lady friend were exciting, this chapter trumps that entirely by exposing the true identity of Tobi. Say hello to Madara Uchiha, and a whole fuckload more plot potential.

This immediately makes Naruto look incredibly vulnerable. We know Sasuke can suppress the Nine Tails' chakra, but there isn't much motivation for him to do so - Naruto is just a minor irritation to his Quest For Vengeance - but now the infamous Madara has shown himself and the evil levels have risen to extreme badass. We get another Uchiha that can suppress Jinchūrki chakra and is, apparently, the most sinister and capable if the Nine Tails is to be believed. Hopefully now we'll also get some definite answers about Akatsuki, their plans and desires. I shall be mightily pissed if Kishimoto turns Madara into Lord Voldemort, however. Maybe Harry Potter is still lingering in my mind, but the parallels are there . . .

So a pretty robust and entertaining chapter. I hope Kishimoto will run with the knock-on effects of what's been suggested here, banking on the potential excitement and not drag things out needlessly. To his credit, though, this volume has had its fair share of entertainment. Roll on next week.

Mangette: Shrewd Formatting Under a Daft Moniker

From MangaBlog:

CLAMP’s original manga with Dark Horse will be launched simultaneously in the United States, Japan, and Korea. The story will come out in a small digest consisting of about eighty pages each, which will then be collected into trade paperbacks with bonus material. CLAMP and Dark Horse are coining the bilingual term Mangettes to describe this innovative new format for manga distribution. This digest format, or Mangette, signifies CLAMP’s personal wish to reach their large international readership by now speaking to them directly as artists through Dark Horse, and on a basis of equality with their Japanese fans.

So, a compromise between the American standard of collected manga editions (trades or tankobons, if you're feeling fancy) and the anthology format of Japan (Shonen Jump, Young Magazine etc). A rather intelligent trade-off between the two, I say, and I can see it working nicely. Especially under the guidance of the always-capable Dark Horse. It weaves neatly into the Direct Market by being monthly, finding shelf-space next to American comics as Shonen Jump and Shojo Beat do today, but is singular in its content and lengthy enough to seem like a slim trade. A pretty shrewd and subtle modification on two tried and tested approaches.

Plus, CLAMP's involvement is a massive boost. Their international appeal is indisputable and if they can't pull it off then I'm unsure who could. I'd be interested to see if their overt awareness of the American market affects the content of their new series. Doubtful, as their unique approach is what made them so popular to start with. But, still, it must be a new kind of pressure for the ladies to face. Personally, I think they'll nail it. I can't wait to see what the new series will be.

I'm interested to know whether the new format will be flipped for its US release, just to be that touch more appealing to the allusive American comic market. Although, it being released simultaneously with Japan would make that logistically annoying, and the already-massive instilled audience base suggests that isn't much of a concern any more. I'm fairly certain it remain 'authentic' in that respect.

But then, how does this modify the discussions of authenticity regarding translated manga? Does the direct Western acknowledgement of this new venture make it more authentic than the current 'after-thought' translations available? Or by sullying it with American recognition does it remove an important Japanese 'sense' of authenticity? In the first case I think it will be very similar to how is manga is currently translated: written in Japanese originally and then translated by a third party (Dark Horse), but without the extended waiting period between the two releases. As far as maintaining an authentic 'sense', the kind of content we get from CLAMP will answer this. If they continue to do their thing, unfazed by the added millions of non-Japanese readers, then that'll be enough. If they suddenly change the setting to NYC, where the protagonist works in MacDonalds and drives an SUV full of obese children busting to Timberland, then . . . well, you know. I'll have something entertaining to rant about, at least.

The name 'mangette' is a bit silly, but I see what they're getting at; a sort of 'novella' of the manga world. It works in an obvious, buzzword sort of way. But apart from the naff labelling the sum of its parts suggest a great success in the making. Dark Horse's translation/presentation skills + CLAMP's creativity and imagination + an understanding of the American market = Bring it on, bitches. I'm excited.

Darker than Black Eps. 13 & 14

I was struck by the beauty of episode thirteen's opening music. Kinda sucked that the cheesy OP had to kick in and ruin things, eh. Still, to Yoko's credit, the music throughout these two instalments felt appropriate and occasionally reached the inspired levels we come to expect from Her Majesty. Was that particular piano piece original or classical, does anyone know?

Story-wise, we get some focus on Yin and her history before she became a doll, and in every sense these two episodes are a success. Foremost, Yin (aka Kirsi from her previous life) is given some attention and pathos. I was concerned, once we found out that the Syndicate wanted her dead (commanding Hei and chums to carry out the hit), that I wouldn't care enough about Yin to fear for her safety; her being so reticent previously. The skill in the writing of this arc, however, meant we learnt enough about her as she fled that the final scene had all the intensity and drama BONES were hoping for. There's a lot to be said about the economy and craft in how this was done. Rather than having stationary exposition (one linear moment to the next) the writers combined it with the thrill of chase and it worked perfectly. Though using the word 'thrill' to describe these episodes is inappropriate; they seemed far too gentle and effortless to really cause that kind of anxious sensation. Instead, the ethereal quality matched its focus, the faraway Yin, impeccably. I'm really satisfied with how this particular arc was handled - it's a relief to know that BONES can honour their main cast with the skill we know them capable of.

Some other minor successes came in the reintroduction of the detective Gai and his shrieking cosplay assistant Kiko. Perhaps I was placated enough by other things to be more accepting of these otherwise irritating characters, yet they seemed to work better as a comedic element here than in their previous appearances. I enjoyed Kiko's otaku rantings and the cheeky wink to the audience when she suggests Yin and co should flee to a hot spring. They're quite an enjoyable pair when they remain a side-act rather than a focus.

The two 'bad guy' contractors turned out to be rather likeable, as well. They both had more than enough potential to be overly flamboyant and ridiculous, but I found myself upset when they died. The writers, again, managed to insinuate enough about their humanity and past to flesh them out beyond being stock bad-guys and made them interesting regardless of their limited shelf life.

The behaviour of Huang, Hei and Mao when the Syndicate commanded Yin's assassination also prompted a lot of subtle character moments in the otherwise emotionally distant group. Huang, specifically, in the final scenes demonstrated the pros and cons of having a conscience in the world of Darker than Black and it was great to finally get some more light on his personality. Hei behaved more as a broody representation of force this time, which I much prefer to his wide-eyed incognito personas of the past. Plus, he tends to hit things more often when he's all suited up.

Both these episodes captured a lot of what I initially saw and enjoyed in Darker than Black. It leads me to think that the show is most successful when it doesn't try too hard, or at least gives the impression of not trying too hard. The previous contrived examples that preceded these two episodes prove as much, but I'm relieved this story arc harkened back to DtB's glory days and presented something quite moving and beautiful. A success like this also inspires more patience and I found myself asking more positive questions about the show rather than picking at its inadequacies. The preview implies that a certain group of fag-smoking, Guinness-drinking Brits are returning next episode, too, which is a rather awesome prospect indeed.

Shigurui Ep. 1

Trying to place Shigurui is hard. Initially, almost subconsciously, you want to bandy about Lone Wolf and Cub because they're set in similar eras, use swordplay and dojo politics as their main theme and have such an intense atmosphere. But really I think it's a lack of experience that encourages such comparisons. You can't really refute Lone Wolf and Cub's historical chops, and Dark Horse's releases honour such by providing us with comprehensive liner notes, but I wouldn't claim to know diddly off the back of that, or even from the few Kurosawa films I've seen. So, let's bank on my ignorant philistine ways and consider Shigurui on its own merits.

Direction-wise it presents us with something quite unique for an anime. The production values for this first episode are undeniably high, but the amount of actual movement is nominal. This doesn't seem like a compensation technique, however, because each movement is expertly considered and perfectly compliments its visual intensity. I wanted to write about how different it seems from Kurosawa's films, with so many invasive headshots and a general sense of claustrophobia controlling every scene - that it seems distinctly anime in its approach - but Shigurui has more in common with its live-action contemporaries than it does with other anime. Each scene is a set piece and any sign of movement is a signal, a direction for the audience with a distinct sense of meaning and purpose. Anime strides for capturing realistic movement so much so that it becomes inherently unrealistic; humans don't move in the way anime illustrates human movement. Shigurui, with its intense restraint, captures the natural stasis of these kind of feudal sword fights. Every step and motion is perfectly considered by its combatant and even the slightest misjudgement could mean the difference between victory and defeat. It's almost unbearably rigid and fantastically absorbing; Shigurui is a treat for the eyes and the nerves.

In terms of plot and characterisation Shigurui demonstrates a similar kind of reservation but still manages to insinuate enough for it to be interesting. It's obvious from this first episode that the show is more concerned with presentation than heavy, verbose character development, but its skill is in how it makes us distinctly aware of character moments when they happen. Whenever a character makes a comment about another, because of its scarcity amongst the overriding aesthetic intensity, it becomes completely loaded with meaning and history. Equally, the plot has a similar subtle maturity and sophistication. It tells the events in a backwards fashion: we open with the seppuku of the eccentric lord responsible (we assume) for most of the woes of the main cast and gradually the plot works back to the first encounter of the protagonists Fujiki and Irako. Each time skip contributes to the broader picture while fleshing out the characters and their motivations. It presents us with a very sophisticated form of writing. Granted, story and character to take a moderate back-seat to Shigurui's spectacular visual flare, but not so much so for them to be weak or shallow.

Overall this first episode impressed me in quite a grand fashion. There's lots of macho posturing and wanky animation techniques (you see the under-the-skin musculature of the fighters as they macho-posture, for instance), but they're all employed legitimately and with a maturity you rarely find in anime. I hope Shigurui maintains this level of detail and polish throughout its run because it contributes so much to its personality and distinctness. It's doable considering the restrained use of over-actuated movement in its animation (even in this first look at us aren't we flashy episode). Time will tell, I guess. I'm definitely sticking around to find out.

Edit: Corrected the two moment/movement confusions. God I hate finding typos like that so long after it's been posted. *slams head against nearest hard thing*

Evangelion Vol. 11

Volume eleven of the Evangelion manga tells the events of the first third or so of End of Evangelion, meaning the manga has decided to follow the film's continuity rather than the controversial TV ending. Its key differences lie in the minutia rather than any catastrophic deviation from the canon. But it's enough, as usual, to legitimise the manga next to its animated counter-part. These differences are mostly alternative methods of getting to the same point, and more often than not the manga actively neuters most of the disturbing aspects of the anime's finale.

For example, Kaworu's death doesn't end with that dramatic splash of water, and Shinji doesn't masturbate over a catatonic Asuka. In fact, in that particular scene, Asuka goes hysterical and attempts to choke Shinji (and rather bloody satisfying it is, too). But these modified moments don't hamper the manga's impact. Granted, they don't systematically wear your emotional state to tatters - one of the many perverse pleasures of the film - but they fit perfectly with the approach the manga has been taking from the outset. Sadamoto has been subtly doing it his way since chapter one, and even at this pinnacle stage he honours the small but important changes he's made.

In the manga Shinji has always been slightly stronger of will than the trembling wimp portrayed in the anime, and in these final moments his mental well-being is nowhere near the level of despondency as his film counterpart. The key reason for this, I think, is because manga Shinji's relationship with Kaworu never developed the same intense connection (with Sadamoto implying that his Shinji thought Kaworu to be a bit of a smug twat) so his death didn't drive Shinji to the same level of despair. This is refreshing in many ways, but it does a lot to undermine the subsequent events. Shinji's apathy as SEELE descend on NERV for the final showdown just doesn't have the same convincing sense of hopelessness as the film, and as a result we question why Shinji is refusing to fight when it was indisputable in EoE. The manga ends as the SEELE troops leave on their mission to assassinate the Children and I'm curious to see how Shinji reacts when they place a gun to his head. Perhaps he will beg for his life and Misato will save him earlier. I really can't imagine it working in the same way as its source; it would undo much of the unique approach Sadamoto has been working on from the start.

This was a very readable volume and the manga remains the perfect compliment to the anime. Sadamoto's art remains godlike and his reimagining of some key scenes holds all the dramatic poignancy of the anime while having enough personality to differentiate. My only wish now is that the manga's conclusion depicts Instrumentality as a combination of the event of the film and the TV ending, and builds a bridge between to the two, finally laying to rest the intense schism they've caused in Eva fandom. I'm also very curious to see if Rebuild has any affect on the manga. I doubt it will, but Sadamoto has dragged this thing on long enough for it to be rather serendipitous. Perhaps he'll continue it on to tell the events of the new films. How cheeky and irritating would that be?

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei Ep. 1

Why hello, an anime from this season that doesn't disgust me with the overt stench of saccharine tweeness? A surreal mix of Love Roma's school-based charm (but completely mashed on crack) and FLCL's 'you're watching a cartoon' self-awareness? Thank god. I thought I was this new season was going to pass me by like chili beans in a fat man's diet.

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei couples extremely stylised cinematography (pretentious noun to use, I know, but I can't think of a better one) with moments of dramatic manga-like stasis (and hilarious use of text. The blackboard! Blahahaha). Cohesively, it comes across like a schizophrenic ADHD kid bleeding Skittle rainbows from its eyes - a complete visual overload - but it works. Oh how it works. I've never seen something this unashamedly animated since a certain GAINAX opus.

The amount of cinema hat-tipping and copious staff invasion (the face of a staff member features as a censor bar when the frequent pantsu shots occur, among many other things) elevates Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei above its slice of life/school drama/etc trappings. To be honest I can't even begin to define it. Its parts suggest it belongs to the categories listed on AnimeNfo, but it flouts every single one with an overriding cynicism that simply doesn't exist in something that takes itself seriously. Serious themes exist in it - suicide being the most obvious - but they act more as a platform for black, ironic humour rather than straightforward dramatic mechanics. Perhaps more genuine serious moments will develop in the coming episodes, or perhaps its tragedy is so ingrained that all it can do is make fun of its characters. Either way, I'd be happy if it maintained this snappy aloofness for the whole run. It provides the same exhilaration I get from reading Love Roma without the quaint YAY LIFE sensibility that taints that manga, but ingratiates this anime all the more for me.

Its character design also reminds me a lot of xxxHolic the manga, moreso than xxxHolic the anime, and is pretty damn sexy as a result.

Cerebral visual stimulus; surreal hilarity; total unpredictability. Where the hell did this thing come from? SHAFT now officially have my attention. Just don't Haruhi-ify this show, anime fandom. It's already so much better than that otaku crap. Don't do it.

(I'll actually talk about the show's characters and plot once I get over this overwhelming desire to seizure in fits of joy. So. Good.)

Darker than Black Eps. 11 & 12

Recently it's been Darker than Black's method of characterisation that made me question its quality, but after this set of episodes I'm starting to doubt its approach to plot continuity as well.

These small story arcs have yet to genuinely contribute to any over-arching mystery of the show. We've had so many characters appear in the past twelve episodes, more than seems normal for scene-setting, and not much has come from any of their introductions. Some have been entertaining, and some less so, but apart from vaguely hint at a bigger picture I'm finding it hard to sum up their worth. I thought with the advent of first-hand exposure to the Gate and PANDORA in these episodes we'd finally get some tangible, meaty plot elements, but instead we get a fairly mundane, intensely irritating recognisance mission. I constantly felt that the show could have been spending its time better by giving the viewer real context rather than waste its time with quivering, paper-thin female scientists (the trope-ridden Mina) or contrived character development. 

The randomness of these plot-thread reminds me a little of Rahxephon in that it presents the audience with many characters and suggested ideas, but does very little to follow them up to any satisfying conclusion, or even utilise them to push things along in a comprehensible sense. The best excuse I can think of for DtB is that it's episodic, but then judging from what we've seen so far that doesn't sit particularly well when analysing its structure.

Granted, Rahxephon did eventually connect the dots by its finale (though with infuriating obliqueness) and perhaps DtB will do the same by intertwining every one's appearance into a neat web of relation by its end. But at this moment it feels sloppy and I'm worried that, like Rahxephon, DtB will have too many neglected ideas and characters by the time it finishes.

Playing the whole 'keep the cards close to your chest' approach only works if the audience is convinced of the story-telling's authority, that everything will be revealed in due course, and I'm not entirely sure if DtB is pulling this off. Nick presented some intriguing ideas and I'm curious to see how much the parallels between he and Hei actually matter. The preview for episode thirteen gave hints of more exposition on this, suggesting we might actually learn something about Yin as well as Nick. I may be losing a lot of confidence in DtB recently, but my interest in its insinuations and characters still remains. I just hope we get a reasonable pay-off for the commitment.

The Summer Top 10

Traditions are lovely things, even on undependable web sites that never update. And top ten charts are great ways for bloggers to express a hierarchy of love for the stuff they write about. Granted, you can gauge this by how often they noticeably crap their Haruhi underpants with overzealous punctuation and elaborate emoticons when writing about the latest episode of [whatever], but it's still fun knowing exactly how much they think Gurren Lagann is awesome by giving a numerical value.

But damn, I'm both horrified and proud that I run a site that can have an annual tradition like this. Almost two freaking years (my first post being August of 2005. I shan't link it out of embarrassment)!

The GBA reissue of this, the Final Fantasy that all the Real Fans say is the best, gave me a consistent (and legal) opportunity to sample its delights. And rather fucking delightful they were. Why can't Square Enix plot their RPGs like this anymore? When did, bleh, gameplay become the main concern of RPGs at the cost of involving, demonstrative story? When character development was so fundamental that even the lesser roles had stories that made you weep openly? Back in my day you got the cane for having sub par stories in your RPGs, but seemingly that's the norm with these young upstarts. That and vaguely related, shamelessly cash-in sequels (DIRL, FFVII Compilation, seriously). It's not like it was during the war, I tell you. Anyone would think SE have lost it now their pops has left to pastures new.

Some might say that including music in this chart is a cop-out. Me? I say, suck my left-one. Miho is legitimately Japanese and legitimately awesome. Once the vocal half of Cibo Matto, seminal alt-poppers from the 90s and the occasional voice of Noodle from Gorillaz, she moved onto making lush, sexual Latino musics with Smokey Hormel in Smokey & Miho. This year saw the release of her first real solo album, Ecydsis. It combines pretty much every sonic incarnation the dynamic young woman has offered over the past decade (bar the Gorillaz stuff) and the albumis  as beautifully soothing and intermittently weird as any fan could hope for. You can watch the video for the first single Barracuda here and take her shifty at her MySpace here.

Satoshi Kon Satoshi Kon Satoshi Kon. Now that we have the obligatory 'talk about the director' introduction out the way, let's talk about merits of the film. Visually sumptuous without showy egotism; incredibly strange without overt pretension; abstract without headfucking the audience into oblivion, Paprika demonstrates that breeziness can be legitimate art. Probably not as impactuous (my thesaurus failed me, sorry) as Paranoia Agent or Perfect Blue, lacking their more challenging themes, Paprika is still a fuckton of fun and worthy of a watch, DVD ownership and recommendation to friends. Washi offers more in-depth thoughts here.

It's blatant hypocrisy that, after that mild diatribe against modern Square Enix, I include one of their more recent games above a seminal classic. But in fairness Final Fantasy XII is one of the most compulsive, enjoyable games I've played for a while. Its story and character leaves a lot to be desired, and the expectations I had of it after loving Vagrant Story weren't met with much grandeur . . . yet I'm 70 hours in and getting very worried about finishing it, doing every side-quest I can to draw out the experience. And there's something to be said for a game that can encourage that kind of dedication. And it's the first RPG I've played where the level grind improves the closer you get to the end. If every Final Fantasy from this point onwards used these kind of automated battle mechanics I'd be a very happy fanboy. I just wish they banked on the rich historical/cultural background you can see in the visuals with the story and characters. It has too much wasted potential to be a true classic of the series, but it's a damn sight better than X, and that's enough to get my recommendation.

My initial hyperbole about this series is gradually fading as it moves through its mid-section, but the love it inspired in the first eight or so episodes still prompts a lot of faith that it can become something great. Reliably excellent animation; intriguing characters and plot elements; decent (but not great, damn it Yoko) music. Its parts suggest the sum of something fantastic and I hope and pray it lives up to the promise.

Nintendo are doing exactly the same thing with the Wii as they  did initially with the DS: one or two decent games at launch and then fuck all for months. This has damaged my interest in the console somewhat, not having much reason to play it now I'm pro at tennis and have completed Zelda, but it has been a fixture of fun for friends and I over the past few months. Now that I've got it working with the wireless connection one of its key draws, the Virtual Console, has reintroduced me to various nostalgia oozing classics (Lylat Wars <3) and helped tide things over until new games come out. Part of me is concerned about the lack of software options at the moment, and equally about the poor immediate prospects, but the DS demonstrated that if you sell a buggerload of units developer interest will shortly follow. Nintendo Europe just need to stop being ridiculous and release Super Paper Mario already. Bloody non-English types and their delay-inducing languages.

If I had an a top 10 of Everything I Love in the World Ever, Haruki Murakami and his fictional works would be riding high. Specifically, his novel Dance Dance Dance would be the overall favourite, but every thing I've read by the man has the same ethereal, addictively weird edge that commands my every waking moment until it's finished. Similarly to how the Dragon Quest games are released in Japan only on national holidays, I have to put his new books to aside for times where I know reading them won't cost me essay marks and encourage general life negligence. My love for his authorship is on-going, but my recent re-reading of Kafka on the Shore has prompted me to award him this position. I still hold other novels in higher regard, but Kafka offers everything you'd want from Murakami: surreal magic-realism coupled with serious, terrestrial drama, with a style that's as effortlessly simple or as challengingly complicated as you're willing to invest yourself in. I've read the book twice now and I still haven't settled on an interpretation that I think does the whole story justice, but as with everything he writes, it's about the process rather than the bottom line.

Ooh GAINAX returns to form blah blah blah. Give it a rest, anime fandom. GAINAX may've embarrassed themselves occasionally over the past few years but they've never truly lost the magic. Diebuster demonstrated they still had the capacity to make the bloated, extravagant melodramas that we all love them for, and Gurren Lagann just realises such on a grander scale. Gurren Lagann also represents GAINAX's lack of complacency with their anime, taking exciting risks and showing an innate ability in using those risks to great dramatic affect. The show really became special for me when Kamina died and became a sort of martyr figure. GAINAX understood the finite appeal of such a stubborn idiot of a character and how his dramatic potential would be more resilient if he acted as a passive inspiration rather than a gung-ho fuckwit. Definitely an inspired plot decision deserved of the production company's reputation. So yeah, Gurren Lagann is shaping up to be an anime worthy of the GAINAX Greats (Gunbuster, Eva, Kare Kano, FLCL), and it's a relief that they've come back to what makes them so respected, rather than what makes them so rich.   

Proof that I wasn't just trying to pad this thing out with bands, here's one perhaps more tenuous than Miho Hatori by being technically American with only a Japanese bassist and singer. But their hyper, infectious energy is worthy of any Japanophile's attention (serious apologies for using that phrase) and their vocals and lyrics Engrish enough to sate the needs of J-Pop aficionados; all with the added benefit of being Cool As Fuck. If America somehow produced its own FLCL Deerhoof would be on hand for its soundtrack. I really can't think of a better recommendation. MySpace and a video.

All the other entries of this chart have been upbeat, quirky examples of entertainment. Tony Takitani proves that the sombre, quietly beautiful things of this world will forever hold the deepest place in my heart. I wrote a short review of this film when I saw it in the cinema, but I bought the DVD recently and having seen it many times since it's become one of my all time favourites. An opus in minimal dialogue, sparse-but-soul-destroyingly-beautiful music and, perhaps most importantly, a comprehensive demonstration of adapting Haruki Murakami's writing. Tony Takitani is a film to see before you die. Or maybe as you die, slowly lulling you into a calm, peaceful rest. So stunning that you'll be in tears by the first ten minutes; so stunning that I actively try not to listen to its OST that I adore just so I don't ruin its delicate impact. I really can't emphasise its worth without succumbing to sloppy hyperbolising. FantasticamazingIwanttomarryitA+infinity. 

Bokurano Ep.9

I think now, with the perspective of knowing with that the anime and manga definitely will be different, it makes judging Bokurano on its own merits easier. Some of those merits still don't sit well with me (the washed out colour scheme, the gangly CG segments etc.) but I can't fault the success of Bokurano's more domestic-based character development, and episode nine is a good example of this.

The slow burning tragedy of Daichi's predicament exemplifies the underlying tension of the entire show incredibly well. The kids know they will die after their turn with Zearth is over, and most of the dramaturgy is born from what they do with this remaining time. Some are driven insane and act out, some resign to their fate and detach themselves from their daily woes, and Daichi, forced to care for others above himself, represents pragmatism.

If handled poorly, this could've been as detached and inhumane as the characters who lost their shit, or the ones who gave up because they knew they would die. Characters that sacrifice themselves for the sake of duty often seem like robots and have very little for the audience to identify with. What really maintains Daichi's pathos, however, is that he never loses his sense of self; of being the responsible, eldest caregiver but equally being a loving brother. He doesn't allow his impending death to victimise his life. He makes arrangements for his siblings' futures and gives them as much of his companionship as he possibly can. Daichi's circumstance initially suggests he has one of the hardest lives of the fifteen kids, but it turns out to be the thing that keeps him strong until the very end.

I really enjoyed this episode. It wasn't as messy as some of the previous arcs, and the emotional highs and lows weren't as severe, but it was excellently plotted and the character moments never floundered. One of the highlights of the series so far and exactly what I needed to revitalise my waning interest in the show.

Oh, I forgot to mention...

I got a new tattoo a month ago:

Let my love for FLCL never be questioned again. :D