#oneaday Day 999: Appeal Elements

I think I might have nailed down one of the big reasons that Japanese games and anime appeal to me quite so much. It’s actually a relatively obvious conclusion, now that I think about it, but watching several different types of anime and playing several different types of Japanese game recently has pretty much confirmed what I suspected.

The thing I find most appealing about these forms of media is that they consciously and obviously divorce themselves from reality while retaining just enough that is relatable to make it still feel “relevant” to the viewer. I’m not just talking about the obviously outlandish storylines of titles like JRPGs and My Girlfriend is the President here, I’m talking about the heavily stylised way in which characters are represented, emotions are depicted visually and how character traits are often exaggerated to make individual cast members obviously distinctive from one another.

As I gradually get deeper in to the world of anime in particular, a lot of conventions are starting to make themselves apparent. One of the most obvious breaks from reality is the use of “emoticons” to depict how characters are feeling. (There may be a proper name for them, but I’m not sure what it is, if so.) Things like the throbbing red “vein” when someone’s angry; the physically-impossible shadow being cast over someone’s face when they’re disappointed or scared; characters who literally catch fire or become engulfed in dark mists when they’re feeling particularly strongly about something; the fact that anyone having pervy thoughts immediately gets a nosebleed. They’re crazy and completely physically implausible, of course, but they create a handy visual shorthand for emotional reactions that might be otherwise difficult to depict in the relatively simplistic imagery of animation. For as much as anime characters (particularly of the moe variety) are designed to elicit emotional responses from the viewer, there’s only so much you can do when you’re not working with a real person who doesn’t have all those muscles in their face to work with.

Actually, that’s not true at all — when you’re dealing with a drawing of someone, you can do absolutely anything with them, even things that are physically impossibleWhat you can’t really do quite so easily, though, is show subtle nuances of emotion, which may account for the fact that an awful lot of anime features not only heavily-exaggerated characters, but also strongly-exaggerated emotional responses to situations too. Everything from the embarrassed “arm-flap” of a teenage girl having her crush revealed to a heroic protagonist running towards his rival engulfed in flames — these exaggerated, symbolic responses make it abundantly clear to the viewer what these characters are thinking and feeling.

At the same time, as I said at the start, they divorce the work from reality. They make a statement — this is not real — and encourage the viewer to suspend their disbelief. And that, for me, is one of the more appealing things about this type of media. I indulge in video games and watching anime as a means of escaping from the doldrums of everyday life which is, let’s face it, rather tedious and dull at the best of times. At the same time, though, I like to maintain a connection to something relatable — usually characters — and I’ve found that anime and Japanese games have often provided a good balance between those two considerations for my tastes.

Obviously I don’t expect everyone to agree with me — it’d be easy to see anime’s exaggerated reactions as overly-comic, silly or childish, for example, sometimes making light of serious situations — but it works for me. Perhaps I just like having emotional responses clearly telegraphed to me rather than being expected to read the often-inscrutable faces of real human beings.

As a vaguely-related contrast to this, we went to see the Lion King stage show last night in Bristol. I did not enjoy it that much, and while I was sitting there a bit bored I found myself wondering exactly why I could suspend my disbelief for an anime about schoolgirls who have perverted fantasies about their classmates (and subsequent nosebleeds) every time they take their glasses off, but not for a bunch of people dressed as savannah animals leaping and cavorting around on stage. I found this a particularly interesting question to ponder given that I normally have a lot of patience for musicals.

The conclusion I came to is somewhat difficult to describe, but it’s largely the fact that I found The Lion King difficult to relate to. I enjoyed the original Disney movie, but the stage show focused, for me, far too much on visual spectacle rather than making the characters relatable in any way. I didn’t give a toss about young Simba (who was not portrayed particularly well by the child actor, which didn’t help) and was painfully aware that these were just people wearing masks and weird costumes throughout. I couldn’t suspend my disbelief and think of them as their characters. It went too far off the edge of reality and deep into the realm of “this is pretentious arty wank” for me, not helped by the amount of frankly unnecessary prancing around from certain members of the cast.

I was somewhat in the minority, though, as the show got a standing ovation at the end. Oh well. This certainly isn’t the first time something with mainstream popularity has left me somewhat cold, as this blog will attest on a number of occasions!

#oneaday Day 721: We’re Gonna Live Forever, We’re Gonna Sleep Together

I have a confession to make. I enjoy musicals and, by extension, musical episodes of TV shows.

No, whatever social stereotypes might have you believe, this is not a euphemistic way of coming out as a homosexual. It is simply a statement of a fact: I appreciate musicals, in all their gloriously cheesy, camp glory.

After watching the entire series of Community, I realised that I had enjoyed the various musical numbers that pepper the series on both ironic “haha, musical” and non-ironic “hey, I’m actually genuinely enjoying this” levels simultaneously. Come on, you can’t say that this isn’t one of the catchiest songs you’ve ever heard.

I had a similar experience with the Buffy the Vampire Slayer musical episode, which is, to date, one of my favourite episodes of any TV show, ever. And a YouTube comment just reminded me that it’s ten years old. Jesus. Anyway:

And this isn’t even getting into South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut, which is both a brilliant parody and a genuinely brilliant musical at the same time. Here’s my personal highlight from it, clear evidence that Trey Parker and Matt Stone have watched and enjoyed Les Miserables at some point in their lives:

After some consideration of all this, I figured that it was about time I checked out Glee. My only experience of Glee to date has been hearing the songs on the radio and, the first time I heard what they’d done to Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’, wanting to kill them all, as tends to happen when I hear cover versions that really aren’t a patch on the original.

Having watched a few episodes of the show now, though, I get it. Glee‘s music isn’t intended to be listened to in isolation. Its overly-processed, super-cheesy, unconvincingly mimed numbers are meant to be watched as much as listened to, with intricate dance routines, cheesy montages and, in some cases, comically overwrought facial expressions. And when watching one of these numbers, it would take a hard-hearted soul to not crack at least a fragment of a smile.

Why, though?

It’ll likely be different for different people, but from my perspective, here’s what I’ve enjoyed so far — about both Glee and musicals in general.

I find them a satisfying experience to watch and to listen to. It’s difficult to pin down exactly what I mean by that, but let me attempt to explain. It’s to do with a sense of “fullness”, or all your senses being bombarded with something that is infused with emotion, however false it might be. In some senses, the exaggerated, stylised nature of musicals means that they’re a very “pure” art form — they’re light on the subtlety and heavy on the audience cues for how they should be feeling. It’s the exact opposite of the sort of movie where everyone mumbles and no-one moves their facial muscles more than the absolute minimum required to form words.

This “fullness” extends to the sound of the music, too. Autotune is, generally speaking, a great evil, particularly when overused, but when used effectively it can add a degree of richness and otherworldly “perfection” to a voice — particularly if said voice is then harmonised to high heaven. If you want to know what I’m talking about and own an iPhone, then go download the free Glee Karaoke app and sing the Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star tutorial song when no-one else is around. Then tell me that hearing yourself harmonised in that beautifully rich, inhumanly perfect manner isn’t at least a little bit satisfying. It sounds artificial, sure, but the very nature of musicals is that they should be stylised. It’s not just visuals which can be stylised, after all — there’s nothing to say you can’t make a human voice sound somewhat… well… inhuman.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me turning my back on “real”, “gritty” or “authentic” music. I’ve always had something of a soft spot for cheesy music, and music from musicals scratches that itch very effectively. Seeing as how Glee combines both cheesy music with one of my favourite “guilty pleasures” in TV and movies — high school drama — I’ll be giving the series a bit more of a chance. Coming to it with “beginners’ mind” and without the media hysteria that seemed to accompany it when it first burst onto the scene, I feel like I can enjoy it somewhat objectively. It won’t appeal to everyone, for sure, but it’s certainly providing me with some pleasing entertainment for the immediate future.

#oneaday Day 509: Ham and Jam and…

Today I went to see the musical Spamalot. That may be the sort of way that a primary school child starts their school camp diary (assuming part of said school camp involved going to see Spamalot, which would immediately make it much better than my school camp) but at least it’s factually accurate — today I did indeed go and see Spamalot.

Spamalot is, of course, the musical based loosely on Monty Python and the Holy Grail, one of the most irritatingly-oft-quoted movies of all time. The show plays up on this by incorporating a number of the movie’s most memorable quotes whilst wrapping it in an all new crispy coating of musical theatre.

The production we saw today featured Phill Jupitus as King Arthur. I’ve not seen him on stage before but I’ve always been a fan of him on shows such as Never Mind the Buzzcocks, and his likeable persona brought a lot to the character of Arthur — particularly as there was a bit of inadvertent corpsing on several occasions, evidence that the show is likely coming towards the end of its run.

The show itself is great. My lovely ladyfriend introduced me to the soundtrack a few weeks back and I found myself returning to it on Spotify regularly, so we decided to check it out. The stage show in the UK is somewhat different from the US-centric soundtrack — the song about never succeeding on Broadway if you don’t have any Jews is conspicuously absent, replaced by the not-so-subtle “you’ll never succeed in showbiz if you don’t have any stars”.

The cast were good and played their parts with appropriate levels of aplomb. And, in the tradition of all good tongue-in-cheek musicals, the show succeeds because it’s not only an excellent spoof of the musical genre in general, it’s also a good musical, with some excellently memorable tunes, good pacing and a suitably huge-sounding finale.

So, basically, if you get the opportunity to go and see Spamalot, then you should. It’s rather good.