Looking at these series side by side, we can see the same archetype and corresponding fantasy of the scarred, strong yet secretly sad man being nursed emotionally by a female love interest play out in different hues for their specific target audiences, in all its glories and pitfalls.
Despite its enthusiastic embrace of playful exaggeration and dramatic pageantry, Baki the Grappler shouldn’t be written off as mind-numbing entertainment for the masses. A critical analysis of Baki as contemporary anime, and a part of pop culture more broadly speaking, can help us all better understand how performative masculinity functions—and why it is so potentially dangerous.
In the hands of a writer who isn’t so brazenly disinterested in writing them, the women of Death Note—Misa, especially—easily have the potential to be the most interesting characters in the deeply iconic series. But as it stands, they’ve been massively shortchanged by writing that presents plenty of fascinating story elements for them, but that never get explored.
While there is a rise in polyamorous romance in Japanese anime and manga, I must regretfully report we still have a ways to go.
Shy’s embrace of a Double Empathy Problem framing reveals larger tensions in the struggle for autistic self-determination, both allowing a deeper understanding of the process of Stardust’s self-conception and also revealing the limits of the mainstream culture’s understanding of “empathy.”
By watching how Record of Ragnarok told the origins of Kojirō Sasaki, I reminisced about my time wrestling. The samurai would lose his matches; but Kojirō uses his defeats to study and learn the way of the sword, playing the matches and possible outcomes in his mind, analyzing how adversaries move and think.
The dichotomy of Hibari as both a progressive trans narrative and an ignorant product of its time showcases Japan’s complicated relationship with trans women and other marginalized groups.
As I took in each new part and new Jojo, I became increasingly invested in the story and characters, and when Stone Ocean was finally adapted, Jolyne was everything I’d hoped for and then some; however, because the source manga has been around since the late 1980’s, some parts, particularly early on, haven’t exactly aged well. It’s too big a franchise to cover in every detail here, but its biggest issues feel worth discussing alongside its strengths.
Tanjiro’s got that moralistic determination trait/defect common in many of my Shounen Sons (™), but what makes him different is a clear and consistent decision to choose kindness toward others, with a pang of deep sadness and forgiveness that outlines it. When holding it up against the other leading boys in the same genre, this particular “brand of nice” feels different. But what is the difference in Tanjiro’s “nice” compared to other shounen protagonists—and why isn’t it more common?
While Lum herself unquestionably remains an anime icon, looking to the different ways she’s depicted in the older anime versus the new can shed some light on changing attitudes to the genre and archetype she’s so nicely embodied over time.
Akane-Banashi, a manga about a young woman coming into prominence in the world of Rakugo, has one of the farthest possible premises from the shounen standard, and yet it uses the tropes of shounen effectively to convey the emotional stakes of the story.
Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure presents a very different attitude from the common story of patriarchal family lines. Not only does the Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure conclude with Jolyne, the first female protagonist of the saga, but it’s clear that her very survival hinges on traits she inherited from her female predecessors.
Even as someone who loved the show in the past, I’ve found myself becoming more of an onlooker these days. I suppose it’s because I can no longer keep from opening Pandora’s box and exploring the problematic traits of Inoue Orihime, a character whose screen time grows in line with the misogyny of her portrayal.
At its very core, MP100 is a show that despises violence as the main means of resolving interpersonal issues, and instead invites its audience to understand each other. In fact, it rejects the mere idea that being more powerful than your enemy is a net positive, or that having special powers makes anyone better altogether. Violence, the series posits, should only be used as a last resort.
Stop!! Hibari-kun treads plenty of expected ground when it comes to teenage romantic comedy because, at its core, the narrative is cut from the same striped cloth as Urusei Yatsura. However, Hibari isn’t an alien in a bikini or a widowed landlady—she’s a trans teenager.
Although Kintaro’s respect for women toes (and occasionally crosses) the line into objectification and some of them get more respectful treatment than others, the series overall gives these female characters more agency and regard than other anime of the same genre.
Going into it hoping to experience an underappreciated classic, I was met with a series that routinely undervalues the very women that define its main appeal, to the point of ritualistically torturing them on-page and treating what makes up their person as disposable.
Discussion about wages and working conditions have exploded to the surface of the anime industry over the past few years. Anime Feminist had a chance to talk with Zeno Robinson, acclaimed actor and vocal supporter of the unionization movement, at Otakon 2022.
Spy x Family is a great example of how a story might have queer resonances and queer themes even if it cannot be classed as queer fiction.
The Disastrous Life of Saiki K is a hilarious supernatural comedy in which a cast of teenagers tries to live ordinary lives amidst extraordinary shenanigans. The female characters are three-dimensional and compellingly written, often just as expressive, funny and absurd as the boys. Although this potential is often well-utilized, narratives on the show that involve male attraction often sacrifice the depth of the girls, for the sake of sexualized scenes and lazy punchlines.
