Rain, rain, go away. Actually, I like the rain, but the cold is annoying. It’s May, after all.

Bored out of my mind and stuck with nothing to do last night, I raided the ol’ DVD collection. As usual, I spent more time trying to decide what to watch than I did actually watching it, but eventually settled on Sentimental Journey. A few months back, I sat down to rewatch the show for the billionth time, but didn’t make it past Emiru’s episode (which I generally skip anyway). So, last night, I jumped ahead and finished off the last couple of episodes.

But this post isn’t about Sentimental Journey.

Ask me to list my three favorite titles of all time, and my response would be: Maison Ikkoku, Cardcaptor Sakura, and Patlabor. What one thing do these shows all have in common? Pretty simple, really: they’re old. And, if you take a look at some of my other favorites, more “old” titles pop up. Kodomo no Omocha, Battle Athletes, Marmalade Boy, You’re Under Arrest, Magic User’s Club…

Sure, it seems silly to label shows from the late 90s as “old”, but given that all the shows listed were produced before or around the time of the great “digital switch”, they’ll always be ghosts of anime past.

Cel vs. Digital debates are about as enjoyable as Sub vs. Dub debates (sorry folks, but I don’t think cel animation is poised for a triumphant comeback). But, I have to admit that I experience a heightened emotional response to older cel-based shows, at least compared to newer and slicker digital fare. Of course, it’s not like cel-based animation is inherently better than digital animation. Far from it, in fact. It’s amazing what studios are doing nowadays with the assistance of computers.

So, why the attachment to cel-based shows? Were they simply better shows all the way around? It seems a bit of a stretch, if you ask me.

Perhaps it’s nostalgia.

Actually, that’s probably it - nostalgia for those early days as a fan, when everything was worth watching because, dammit, it was anime!

. . .

Perhaps this isn’t such a great thing after all.

. . .

Ask me again in ten years.