The inaugural Five Observations podcast episode

Tsuki ga Kirei

Welcome to Five Observations, my new anime and pop culture podcast! Each episode, I will share five things I have been thinking about.

In this first instalment: the little moments in Tsukigakirei, robot fights, Japan’s smiling dystopia, and more. I’m Robert, and here are Five Observations.

1. The little moments in Tsuki ga Kirei are perfect.

2. A106 is not Astro Boy, but they share similar blueprints.

3. Japanese McDonald’s dystopian smile police.

4. Reality TV can highlight cultural differences.

5. AotS is going to be a talking butt.

If you’re doing it just for yourself, it’s just a hassle to even cook some rice

March Comes in Like a Lion - Rei

March Comes in Like a Lion, episodes 1-6

  1. I plan my seasonal anime choices by referring to Anichart, and based on the blurb there I assumed this would have some similarities with Ping Pong: The Animation — that it would be a sports anime that also dealt with social isolation and mental health issues. It turns out to be the opposite; March Comes in Like a Lion is an anime about crushing depression first and foremost, and shogi is very much secondary to that. (I should have noticed that they’d tagged it Drama and Slice of Life, but not Sports.)
  2. Why don’t you ever wanna play?
    I’m tired of this piece of string.
    You sleep as much as I do now,
    And you don’t eat much of anything.
    — The Weakerthans, Plea from a Cat Named Virtute
  3. It’s been quite upsetting to see so many anime fans respond to Lion‘s depiction of depression by saying, “Wow, that’s exactly how I felt.” I’m in the same boat. I’ve suffered two bouts of depression in my life, and the sense of unmotivation, of crushing obligation, of wanting to hide even from the people who make you happy, of wanting to just disappear… all of that is here, and it’s hauntingly accurate.
  4. In Lion, shogi is almost a McGuffin. It’s something that Rei clung to in dealing with his difficult family situation, his grief, and his loneliness; it’s also something that contributes to his isolation by allowing him to live alone and cut ties with his support networks. The fact that it’s shogi is almost completely irrelevant. What actually matters is the efforts of various people (friends, family, mentors, opponents, teachers) to draw Rei out of his depression and into a more normal life and happier frame of mind.
  5. By way of background, this episode of NHK World’s Japanology Plus on Shogi gives a brief overview of the rules, but also a window into the lives of professional shogi players: groomed as children, prodigies are identified because they start beating adult players; spending their time between matches reviewing the data from their competitors’ matches, they are constantly trying to find new strategies; matches are physically exhausting and can last days at a time. All of this is reflected in March, which is interesting. I wasn’t sure how true to life it was, and how much was exaggerated for the manga/anime drama. It actually seems to be a fairly plausible story.

Donuts were difficult, since I didn’t know if they were a snack or a meal

Tsumugi

Sweetness & Lightning, episodes 1-5

  1. This is definitely the show of the season from my perspective. It ticks quite a few boxes for me personally: I have a young daughter (a lot younger than tsumugi), I’m a teacher, I like to cook. It’s got instantly loveable characters with believable motivations and a touch of tragedy. And it offers a kind of community service: because Kouhou is learning to cook, the weekly recipes begin very simply, so that people can learn to cook alongside him.
  2. I love shows-within-shows, and I would love it if someone made a full episode of Magi-girl, the show that Tsumugi watches. It seems to be a giant robot / magical girl mashup. It needs to be brought into the real world.
  3. I’m not the kind of person who trawls through the credits looking at the production details of shows I enjoy, but Tsumugi’s voice is so authentically child-like… sure enough, the actress is ten years old. It makes a huge difference to the show, as the squeals and giggles create a vivid personality.
  4. I’m still wary of the relationship between Kouhou, the teacher, and Iida, his student. She clearly has a crush on him, but so far he has responded appropriately: taking advice about the appropriateness of his meetings with her, contacting her mother (albeit indirectly), blithely thanking her for compliments paid. It’s genuinely refreshing to watch a show that doesn’t have cheap, sleazy moments thrown in for no good reason, and if he suddenly reciprocates I will be seriously pissed off.
  5. Crunchyroll has the manga, and this is the first show I’ve felt the need to go and read because I can’t wait for the next week’s episode. (Bonus: the manga includes written recipes. I think I’ll give the donuts a go.)

I don’t even want to be the main character in my own life

Tanaka-kun is getting wet

Tanaka-kun is Always Listless, episodes 1-12

  1. When I heard the description of this show, I gave it a pass. I thought Haven’t You Heard? I’m Sakamoto had the more interesting gimmick, so I picked that one instead. Big mistake. I could barely get through an episode of Sakamoto, it was so heavily padded around its one joke. But after a couple of weeks seeing people’s positive response to Tanaka-kun, I swapped to the other high school gimmick show of the spring season, and found myself looking forward to new episodes every week.
  2. It was the second half of episode 1 that sold me. Tanaka explains to Ohta, “I don’t even want to be the main character in my own life… It sounds exhausting.” He talks about wanting to be a background character – and in a way, that’s what he is in his own show. He’s got the title, he’s at the centre of his clique, but actually it’s how other people act around him that is interesting to watch. His muted behaviour draws out their personalities, and they open up to him in ways that they keep hidden from the rest of the school.
  3. At the same time, the ability to relate to Tanaka is an important aspect of the show. We’ve all had days when we can’t be bothered to drag ourselves out of bed — or when we spend a lot of effort trying to avoid work. We see ourselves in Tanaka. I can’t stand umbrellas: I’m the guy who has turned up at work soaking wet because it’s easier than carrying a brolly; every one of Tanaka’s rationalisations in episode 6 is something I’ve used to justify my objectively dumb habit. Perfect.
  4. A lot of the comedy is driven by misunderstandings, often with a dry edge. For example, when Tanaka loses his voice and is forced to write notes, he complains to himself that writing Echizen (越前) takes too long to write, so she should change her name to Tanaka (田中) or Ohta (大田). She assumes this is a proposal to marry one of them; hijinks ensue. On one level it is an absurd misunderstanding, but it works because it brings out Echizen’s discomfort with gender roles and romantic expectations. Again: Tanaka is more of a catalyst for other people’s personalities than a true lead character.
  5. I also like the relationship between Tanaka and Ohta. Despite occasional jokes, it is presented as a strong platonic relationship — two good mates who look out for each other. It’s nice.

So you put the hair in there and write the incantations

Flying Witch - Tempura

Flying Witch, episodes 1-3

  1. The opening scenes of Flying Witch were powerfully nostalgic. They show the titular heroine Makoto Kowata in transit, travelling first by train and then by bus to a snowy rural town. On my first holiday in Japan, we took a similar journey to the snowfields of Nagano. The pace and beautiful art in these opening scenes captured the feeling of that journey perfectly: away from the thrum of a big city, to the quiet and contemplative atmosphere of a small town. That was enough to hook me.
  2. The second episode dropped another nostalgia bomb. On my second trip to Japan, I took some cooking lessons offered by home cooks, in their own homes. We learned about the produce that is traditionally eaten in spring. Young bamboo shoots, shiso leaves, strawberries, and so on. We didn’t try fukinotou, but we did make tempura, so watching the episode’s nice little cooking lesson again brought back fond memories.
  3. This show is like Studio Ghibli took a crack at making Sabrina, the Teenage Witch. The magic elements are much lighter and more realistic, and it’s not so much sitcom as a light drama. But while Chito the cat doesn’t talk, he still conveys the same perfectly sarcastic attitude as Salem.
  4. Magic in Flying Witch is presented matter-of-factly as part of the natural world, and the rural setting grounds it nicely. A screaming vegetable, flying brooms, a wonderfully strange man who ushers in spring, a simple ritual that summons crows. These things seem more like “old wives’ tales”, forgotten knowledge about how the world works, than the flashy displays of wizards or superheroes.
  5. The cast around Makoto are all charming, from the curious young cousin who is equally nervous and curious about the magical world, to the perfectly polite visitor who changes the seasons, to Makoto’s impulsive and powerful witch sister. This is not the kind of show that makes you excited, per se, but I am really looking forward to seeing who else we meet, and how Makoto develops her powers.

Shut up before I shut you up myself

Aggressive Retsuko photocopies her rage face

Aggressive Retsuko, episodes 1-2

  1. Anyone who has worked in an office environment, especially in cubicles or some other open plan monstrosity, will instantly relate to Retsuko’s plight. She just wants to get her work done and knock off at the end of the day and relax, but… well, hell is other people.
  2. This is an interesting entry into the growing “kawaii metal” genre. The structure of each episode, with chirping dialogue giving way to a screamo chorus, is very similar to Ladybaby’s Nippon Manju (incidentally, a pretty good song).
  3. As a recent father I have some sympathy for the pink hippo (?) in episode 2. It’s hard not to think about your kid while you’re away from them, but it’s important to remember that nobody else cares as much as you. I put some photos up at my desk where people can see them, and if they want to ask me about my daughter I’m happy to talk, but I never initiate those conversations.
  4. Number one jerk: definitely Buffalo Boss. Colleagues chatting about their tedious lives are annoying, sure, but a boss who dumps a mountain of busywork on your desk just as you are about to clock off is an utter shitstain. Stop for a moment and consider whether you do this — and it can go the other way: if you turn up at 5pm on Friday with something that needs your manager’s urgent consideration, then you are Buffalo Boss. Don’t be Buffalo Boss.
  5. I have no idea how the whole Sanrio family of characters works, but I take it there is a voting process to decide which ones get more attention and which get more or less dropped? I’m not sure, but I voted for Aggretsuko— “Special skill: deathmetal vocals” — just in case.

Your body doesn’t belong to just you anymore

Kiznaiver

Kiznaiver, episodes 1-3

  1. It’s like they looked at Sense8, which had a similar scifi gimmick involving sensory connections between perfect strangers, and stripped everything interesting and sophisticated out of it. In Kiznaiver, it’s only immediate physical pain that is shared, and only for a split-second. It turns it into a slapstick routine when it wants to be an exploration of empathy.
  2. The third episode is more interesting because it has moved beyond the contrived kidnapping setup, and now they are forced to use their “power” to engage in a bit of detective work. And what do they discover? The last member is some kind of pain fetishist who repeatedly hospitalises himself to get off. Wow, edgy.
  3. The “seven deadly sins” concept just feels like another layer of cheap psychological gibberish slapped on top to create an illusion of depth — and to justify the cartoonishly one-note characters, who no longer have to be well-rounded because they each slot into a predefined niche of awfulness.
  4. Kiznaiver is gratuitously crass. When the protagonist in the first episode (I don’t remember his name because honestly, who cares) is pushed down a flight of stairs, he takes a moment to look up his attacker’s skirt and note the pattern on her underwear. I suppose it is intended to show he is unconcerned by the physical danger, but it is incomprehensible why the character who is defined by his complete lack of interest in anything would be motivated to make that observation. It’s the kind of fanservice that treats the audience like complete imbeciles. (Which might actually be a fair assumption if it persists with this.)
  5. Worst of all, this is a show that glamourises self-harm and suicide. Its literal premise is that when you feel no emotional connection to other people, you can use physical pain (symbolised by wrist scars, because it’s as subtle as a brick) to create that connection — even to the point of jumping off a bridge. At best, this is a shallow gimmick for a show with pretensions at depth, and at worst it will cause actual harm to vulnerable people.

If we do not slay the demons here, the entire world will perish!

Kuromukuro

Kuromukuro, episodes 1-2

  1. All I knew about this show before I watched it was that it somehow involves schoolgirls and mecha. The first episode is fairly languorous at first, following Yukina as she tries to return her mother’s phone to some kind of high tech government facility. Schoolgirls and mecha, so far so good, and then — NAKED SAMURAI ENCINO MAN FIGHTING A ROBOT IN SINGLE COMBAT. Strong finish.
  2. Given the premise, I was wary that this would be a steaming pile of fanservice, but actually it pointedly avoids it. When a group of characters fall on the floor, skirts drape to cover things up, and then the extended nude scene features the male newcomer. That was a nice change of pace.
  3. In the second episode, some of the backstory is fleshed out. There was a princess, Kennosuke wants to protect her, the “demon” mechs arrived from outer space, he was frozen in time, and now he’s awakened when the aliens have returned with their machines (it’s not clear yet whether they are sentient robots, or if they have pilots).
  4. I like the mechanical designs so far. There are no flying mechs so far, so this is more Patlabor than Gundam or Macross. They come in a range of scales from a little taller than a human to a little taller than an office building, but they all wield glowing katanas and fight like martial artists. I’m looking forward to building some models…
  5. Netflix is showing this week by week in Japan with English subtitles, but apparently will release the full dubbed season in other regions at an unspecified future date. I don’t understand why they’re restricting access to the subbed version, given that there are plenty of other ways to access it without paying. And if you have a Netflix subscription, their geo-blocking is… uh, not great, if you use the right DNS service.

A miscalculation within the realm of possibility

jokergame

Joker Game, episodes 1-3

  1. This is a spy thriller set during World War II, and I don’t think I was alone in being apprehensive about how it would handle sensitive political topics. But right at the outset of each episode, it presents a remended that it’s a work of fiction. Sigh of relief — if it was going to pander to Japan’s jingoistic right wing, it wouldn’t bother with that disclaimer.
  2. The first two-part story confirms this is no propaganda piece. Sent to find evidence against a foreign diplomat, Sakuma finds it hidden behind the Emperor’s portrait. The military police are so deferential to this icon of their god on earth that they don’t dare touch it. Right from the outset, Joker Game presents ultranationalism as unintelligent and in fact a threat to national security. These two episodes set up the competing interests, and give us some idea of where the spies fit in.
  3. The third episode moves us into a real story, set in Vichy France. There is a real change of pace with some great action scenes, which look great and show off the D Agents’ training. The amnesiac plot is pretty cheap, but this guy gets KOed more often than a pulp detective, and it’s good to see there are consequences in this world.
  4. The highlights of the episode were the quick thinking of the protagonist. The explanation of how he identified the turncoat was clever and plausible. His MacGyver-style improvised explosion, although I find it implausible that people living in a French town in the 1940s would be unaware of the concept of dust explosions; flour mills were (and still are) dangerous places.
  5. Actually, the way Joker Game treats its audience was generally disappointing. The dialogue is crammed with explanations of basic concepts. “We’re with the Resistance.” “You’re members of a secret underground opposition to the German occupation, you mean?” Yes, obviously. “You’re a collaborator? A German spy sent to infiltrate the Resistance?” Come on. Even if people aren’t familiar with this terminology, it’s not hard to pick it up from context. I hope that dies down in future because it kills the flow.

You can’t fly if you only look at the sky

Macross Delta

Macross Delta, episodes 1-3

  1. I think this is the most thoroughly branded show I’ve seen. The art is a jarring mix of painted backgrounds, flat-coloured 2D art, and glossy CG machinery — but tyang it all together is a neon, 80s Walkure product identity, with W motifs everywhere. Even the way the characters are positioned in the frame forms W shapes.
  2. I have almost no prior understanding of the Macross universe, except that it includes transforming jet-mechs and magical songs that buff the fighters. I guess someone really loved playing a bard in D&D? I have to admit I was sceptical about how well you could bring a hardware fetish and idol fandom together into a coherent show, but actually I really enjoyed it.
  3. As for working out the different factions, what the space virus with a musical antidote is, all of that — I’m listening to the SpeakerPODcast to hopefully learn as I go.
  4. The paintball dogfight training exercise was genuinely suspenseful. In my head I knew Hayate Immelmann would pass the test, because duh of course he would, but my guts were worried about him when he rashly stalled the plane. I think it helped that Freyja Wion’s song was genuinely a decent pop song, and she has a good voice that held up during the a cappella part. It was nice.
  5. The mercats are a dumb idea (is there some connection to Singapore?) and they spent far too long chasing that unfathomably nimble aquatic Garfield around. The physics of its swimming were just awful — you can’t slap someone with a tail like that. I understand they were setting up Immelmann’s surprise aerial manoeuvre, but that was also the point where the physics broke down in the sky. But okay, he wants to air-dance, I can go with that as long as the music holds up over the series.

You are just a Quirkless hero fanboy

My Hero Academia

My Hero Academia, episodes 1-3

  1. I really hope this gets a decent dub and finds mainstream success as a before-school cartoon. I love the messages they are developing here: passion, dedication and hard work are important; heroes are defined by their attitude, not their power; you can do a lot of good in your community without chasing glory.
  2. Coming off the back of One Punch Man, it’s impossible to avoid comparing the two shows. Whereas OPM was a loving but somewhat cynical parody of superhero tropes, Academia embraces them wholeheartedly. (As for the character comparison: imagine the true hero of OPM, Mumen Rider, was bestowed with Saitama’s abilities, and you’ve pretty much got Izuku. This is a good thing.)
  3. I’m glad they spent a quarter of the first cour on character development. It’s laid a solid foundation for the slugfest I expect we will see as it moves forward. Having a clear sense of Izuku’s motivation will allow the pace to pick up without becoming a bland exercise in fight choreography.
  4. The art in this thing is gorgeous, especially the faces and the movement. It’s very dynamic. Look at the gif above: the rotation of the background gives it real depth, without resorting to CG or lens flares or any of that nonsense. Simple but effective. The montage of superheroes in the first episode was stunning and fluid, so I’m really excited to get into the tournament and see how all these Quirks are depicted.
  5. Speaking of tournaments… The last tournament show I watched was World Trigger, which burned the audience pretty badly — they had 63 episodes with a whole lot of filler, but then killed it before the last match of the tournament? Come. On. (I know it’s unfashionable to like World Trigger, but I do and you can eat me.)

For a DJ, knowledge, skill and technique can all come later

tonkatsu-dj

Tonkatsu DJ Agetarou, episodes 1-2

  1. I’ve been hanging out for this one since I first heard about it. The odd premise — a kid working in his family’s restaurant discovers that making tonkatsu is exactly the same as being a DJ — is just ridiculous enough to be intriguing, while still leaving a bit of room to flesh it out beyond that one joke. And now that it’s here… it’s good!
  2. The flashes of supposed similarity between DJing and frying breaded pork cutlets are… stretched. We’ve got the premise, so the humour comes from seeing how the silly comparison is going to be made this time. Spinning records is like wiping a counter? OK! Rifling through a record shop is like fetching a pickle from the barrel? Why not! It’s not laugh-out-loud funny, but it’s pleasantly amusing. (I also like the way these comparisons develop Aragotou’s character, simultaneously an ambitious dreamer and a daydreaming slacker. Can he succeed?)
  3. “This must be the ripest one!” decides Agetarou, pulling out a record from the pickle barrel to discover… butts. This little moment of embarrassment reminds us that Aragatou is a teenaged boy who is desperately trying to be cool in front of his new friends. A little bit of risqué humour never hurt anybody, and the art style means this isn’t squicky fanservice.
  4.  The art reminds me a little bit of Magnus Carlsson’s Robin, though slightly more detailed. This is a good thing. The carefree lines create the right tone for this show: fun, friendly, not too serious.
  5. There is a record shop a few hundred metres from my house. It’s smaller than the one in this show, less organised. But Mizokuro’s reaction to the woman who wanders in — literally pushing her out the door — seems about right. What is it about niche hobby shops that makes them so hostile to women?