I’m sure if you asked someone who wasn’t particularly well acquainted with anime what its defining features are, you’d hear the standard responses: big eyes, neon hair, sex, and giant robots. Of course, every anime fan knows that there’s much more to the medium than, say, sexy big-eyed giant robot pilots with neon hair.

A lot of sexy big-eyed giant robot pilots have perfectly normal black hair, for example.

But people wouldn’t say those things if they weren’t true to some extent. Anime characters do typically have big eyes. Unnatural hair colors are a common sight. Sex is still a driving force in the industry.

And giant robots have never gone out of style.

It’s no secret that I’m not the world’s biggest mecha anime fan. I don’t actively dislike the genre or anything; rather, I’ve just never been all that intrigued by it. At the same time, I’m not much of a shounen action fan, and seeing as a lot of mecha series are, in part, shounen action series, I’ve steered wide and clear of the genre over the years. It’s not my thing.

But, I think there’s more to it than just that. As a child growing up, I never developed the same fascination with machines that many young boys do. My older brother had a keen interest in airplanes, likely driven by the fact our father worked in the aircraft industry. I had greater interest in writing, music, and other creative pursuits. And when we played together, I’d take my Legos and construct cities and buildings; my brother would build automobiles and spaceships. As we grew older, his interest turned to cars and architecture. Mine, to weather and maps. Today, he works in industrial design. I work in international business.

Or, to be more exact, I work in international business in the aerospace industry, spending my days surrounded by engineers who probably grew up with similar interests as my brother. Except, they’re still building their spaceships today. And when they talk about it, their eyes light up, and I realize how much passion they have for machines and what makes them work. And I think that explains a lot about the enduring popularity of mecha anime. If you accept that most Japanese anime fans are male and likely grew up with similar interests as my brother and many of my coworkers, you start to understand the appeal of mecha anime.

Of course, things change. I’m not entirely sure how to explain the growing popularity of moe anime and bishoujo game adaptations in a similar fashion - I’m not sure I want to know, to be honest - and as anime has spread around the globe, the diversity of its fans has increased tenfold. Mecha has held on nonetheless, but the focus has gradually shifted from the machines to the lives of the people who pilot them and the conflicts of which they are tools.

Or perhaps it’s been that way for some time already. It is the Gundam model, after all, and even though there’s no shortage of Gundam freaks out there who can tell you the thread length on every screw holding a MS-06J Zaku II together, there are just as many who spend their weekends dressing up like Char Aznable and waxing philosophic about the virtue of war with their Zeon comrades at the corner coffee shop.

Oddly enough, however, the one mecha show I consider a favorite is one in which the mechanics of the mecha themselves are both realistic and presented in such a way that many engineers would appreciate. Of course, I’m talking about Patlabor. With the exception of its oversized service revolver and gratuitous design elements, the Ingram makes sense. And many of the common Labors featured in the show look and function like the construction implements they are. I suppose you could argue that there are more efficient ways of doing construction work than utilizing giant bipedal robots, but from a purely mechanical standpoint, Labors are pretty no-nonsense compared to the giant robots in your average mecha series.

The fact that Labors are, essentially, giant machines is not lost on the show, either. Special Vehicles has more gearheads than police officers. Even a few of the police officers are mecha otaku in their own right. And the show spends as much time dealing with stories of industrial espionage and the politics of an increasingly technocratic world as it does stories of routine police work. The tag line at the end of each episode says a lot about the show’s outlook, I think: “This is a work of fiction, but in ten years, who knows?” Gundam is science fiction for dreamers. Patlabor, however, is science fiction for realists.

Not that there’s anything wrong with dreaming, of course. Today’s dreams are tomorrow’s reality, and all that jazz. But, while I have a little bit of dreamer in me, I’ve always been a realist at heart. It’s just one of the many reasons I love Patlabor as much as I do.

And when people ask me what I do for a living, and I say, “I work with a bunch of rocket scientists, but I just pretend to be a lawyer all day,” it’s not like I’m trying to make them laugh.

Honest.

You know, it never really occurred to me until now, but the cast of Aria is young. They’re all teenagers, if not a few years past twenty by the end of the series. The funny thing is, with the exception of Alice, whose great talent despite her young age is an ongoing plot point, the series doesn’t make much fuss about the age of its characters. Without the appropriate background, one could just as well assume that Akari and Aika are both several years older than they actually are.

Even more surprising is the fact that the Water Fairies are just as young. This, despite being the premier Undines in Neo-Venezia and mentors to three girls only a few years their junior. We know from Grandma’s long career that Undines aren’t exactly the Martian tourist trade’s version of the Japanese office lady, keeping busy until they can find a man to marry. But I can’t think of a single instance in the entire series where we meet an Undine who is clearly over the age of twenty-five. I guess they all moved up to middle management.

Of course, this is par for the course when it comes to anime. Even anime series that address the lives of adults, such as Patlabor and You’re Under Arrest, are stocked with characters younger than myself. And many of their viewers. An appeal to nostalgia is fine, too… I guess.

Now get your giant robot off my damn lawn, you little punk.

Just so you know, work and the sudden onset of Spring have conspired to suck up most of my spare mental and physical energy these past few weeks. I’ll be out of town on business next week, too, so I suspect the remainder of April is pretty much shot as far as blogging is concerned.

Sorry, but such is life.

Anyway, I’m still in the process of catching up with the Spring anime season. Here are some initial impressions of the shows I’ve sampled thus far…

Da Capo - More of the same. I’m man enough to admit that I have a soft spot for Da Capo. Through good times and bad, it’s always entertaining.

Kure-nai - I had been looking forward to this show for awhile, but I was also apprehensive given its pedigree and the fact I couldn’t quite figure out what genre to place it in. And while I still have a lot of questions about the show, I have to say that the first two episodes were quite good and more than enough to grab my interest. The art is attractive, the direction has style, and the acting is far more organic than what you’d find in your typical anime series. I especially enjoy the dynamic between the two leads. It’s surprisingly warm.

Itazura na Kiss - Who brought the time machine to the party? I’m having flashbacks to Marmalade Boy here. And I mean that in a positive way. Seriously, though, this is old school, traditional shoujo, and it’s just the sort of thing I have a history of getting hooked on. Great OP, by the way.

Kanokon - Kawasmui Ayako needs to talk dirty more often. As for the show itself? It’s funny in much the same way Girls Bravo was funny, and the boundary pushing fanservice is cute, but I see the joke getting very old, very fast. It’s been a blast, Kanokon, but I really gotta go now.

Macross Frontier - Yoko Kanno is in top form this time around. Victor best not be stingy with the soundtrack releases. Other than that, all I’ll say is that this is likely to be the, “damn, I can’t wait for the next episode,” series of the season for me. It’s good. Go watch it, already.

Special A - For some reason, this show has yet to click with me. The humor and writing feels unusually mechanical, and it sucks a lot of the charm out of what should otherwise be a fun show. However, it clearly has potential, and it could very well grow on me, so I’m reluctant to pass on it without watching another episode or two.

One thing I asked myself upon finishing Clannad was, “Of all the recent anime adaptations of Key visual novels, which had the most likable male lead?” After some thought, I settled on Okazaki Tomoya, but it was while evaluating Aizawa Yuuichi’s character that I tripped on something I had never tripped on before: the primary reason why I’m not a big fan of the Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi.

When the Kanon remake first aired, there was a lot of talk of how Yuuichi was essentially a clone of Haruhi’s Kyon, given their similarly sarcastic nature and the fact both characters were voiced by Sugita Tomokazu. I saw the similarity as well, but the two characters still struck me as fundamentally different. But why? It’s funny that I didn’t realize it until now, but the reason is quite simple. Yuuichi is likable. Kyon, on the other hand, is not.

Now, I’m sure there are plenty of Haruhi fans out there who will disagree with me, but my impression of Kyon was indeed negative. And since the show was structured in such a way as to emphasize his negative qualities, what with his neverending sarcastic narration and contemptuous observations on the events occurring around him, he grew more and more insufferable with each episode. I’m reminded of a conversation I had with Momotato in which he commented that he would have enjoyed the show more himself had it not been for Kyon’s internal monologue. I think I now understand what he was getting at.

Of course, complicating matters further is the fact that Haruhi is a somewhat unpleasant character herself. Perhaps that’s why Hirano Aya’s voice grates on me so much nowadays? That’s another topic all together, I guess.

Anyway, just a thought. I suppose it might be worth rewatching the show some time soon, just to make sure I’m not being unfair in my assessment.

To fill the time during the recent lull between anime seasons in Japan, I went on a bit of a Studio Ghibli binge. Good theatrical anime is a convenient thing to have around when you’re itching for something worthwhile to watch but don’t have the time or energy to devote to rewatching a television series in full. I just wish there was more to choose from.

Anyway, while stuffing myself silly on Ghibli, I made a lot of visits here in search of answers to some of the little questions I’ve always had about the studio’s many films, and those visits often resulted in visits elsewhere, links followed by links, one fan site to the next, until, next thing I knew, I was reading the Wikipedia article on center pivot irrigation. You know how it goes. All roads lead to center pivot irrigation.

Along the way, however, I encountered the writing of a lot of devoted anime fans from all walks of life, and it got me to thinking: just how many anime fans are there in the world? And how many of them live in virtual silence, despite the fact their love for anime is just as strong, if not stronger, than many of those who spend their every waking minute sharing their love for anime with anyone and everyone willing to listen? And what happened to all of those anime fans from decades ago who have grown up, married, had kids, and built a life that no longer revolves solely around watching Japanese cartoons?

I like to think those people are out there. In my travels within the fan community, I’ve encountered quite a few. But with anime fandom nowadays so focused like a laser on the here and now, I wonder if we’re forgetting a lot of those fans who got their start trading fansubs on video tapes, collecting laser discs, and making yearly pilgrimages to Akihabara before it got overrun by maid cafes? A lot of those fans have moved on to other things, no doubt, but many more are still with us, I’m sure. It’s something worth remembering when the regular inanity of modern anime fandom gets you down.

And it might be something worth looking forward to.

Regardless of one’s opinion of True Tears, it’s hard to deny that it was a unique take on an otherwise tried and true formula. I suspect it’s for that reason that reaction to the show has generally been positive, bitterness on the part of Isurugi Noe fans notwithstanding. Typically, you would expect a show of this nature to have no shortage of ankle-biting detractors, but I’ve heard genuine praise for True Tears from even some of the most jaded and hardened anime fans I know. That’s pretty impressive.

But why all the good vibes? Nishimura Junji’s excellent direction is notable, to start. His work on Simoun has garnered him a lot of attention as of late, and I think that helped to drive interest in True Tears for a lot of people, myself included. Of course, Nishimura-san has been working in the anime industry for a quite some time now, having been staff on Urusei Yatsura and Director for Ranma 1/2, to name just a couple of older, high profile series. However, his work on True Tears was in many ways most reminiscent of his work on Simoun, be it in his careful use of background music to bridge one scene to the next or in his cuts to highly stylized freeze frames at crucial and climatic moments.

The anime directors I respect most typically leave these sort of calling cards in the shows they work on, to the extent their involvement is instantly recognizable from watching only a single episode. That’s not to say they’re one trick ponies. Rather, I think it’s evidence that they so consistently stray from the ordinary and generic as to be more than “just another anime director.” And, let’s face it: there are a lot of “just another anime director” types in the business.

An anime director is not an island unto himself, however. True Tears also benefited from some surprisingly smart writing, especially given its standard premise. For all of the show’s dramatic cliffhangers, there was no shortage of subtlety and misdirection in both story development and character dialogue. So much in the show was not as it seemed, and it wasn’t until the very end that the story’s theme and purpose came into focus. Even then, it kept me guessing. When Shin’ichiro fell to his knees in anguish in the final episode as Noe slowly limped away, his heart wavering, so did mine. Did the show have one final plot twist up its sleeve? Would it stay the course? I didn’t know. I thought I knew. But, the truth is, I didn’t know anything.

Very few shows can maintain such a high level of apparent unpredictability to the very end without resorting to jarring and implausible plot twists, like a race car driver griding the gears to get ahead one moment, only to fall behind the next. “Exactly as planned,” unpredictability is uncommon in anime. True Tears, on the other hand, had it in spades. I think that’s a pretty clear indicator of how carefully conceived and planned the show was from the very beginning.

Of course, the show’s good points aren’t limited to just the contribution of its Director and the strength of its writing. It’s no secret that the quality of the animation was beyond what you would typically expect from a television series being produced by a previously unknown studio. But, then again, I seem to remember a little studio by the name of Kyoto Animation being relatively unknown when they first burst on the scene a few years back, too. Moral of the story? Pay attention to new animation studios.

And, you know, for all the talk about how this past anime season was a little on the weak side, I have to admit that the combination of True Tears and Aria was more than enough to sate my appetite for good anime through those long and dark winter months. A chicken in the sky is worth two in the coop, I guess.