Anime as Art, Anyone?

Let's face it, at age twelve, few things in the world were as cool as Dragonball Z. Watching Goku perform a Kamehameha attack had as much charge as a week's supply of caffeine, and the fighting escapades of the Z-Squad became the focus of many an adolescent's attention. However, as time moves mountains, so has it seen to the development of these same youths' personal tastes – high power levels and impressive fireworks may no longer be enough to dazzle the eye of one who grew up with anime, myself included. After a two or three-year bout of disinterest, I became once more compelled to explore the diverse realm of anime, now armed with a more scrupulous pair of eyes which had afore been absent.

As my excursion revealed, anime as an art-form had also been undergoing some development. It seemed that the popularity of anime had a twofold effect of enhancing the genre in some cases while, in other situations, degrading it. Certain developers seemed able to learn from the mistakes of the past as they created series' more involved and aesthetically pleasing than their predecessors; others, however, rehashed existent clichés (such as the "harem" scenario seen in Tenchi Muyo) in order to capitalize off of the material without making any serious contributions to anime as a whole.

Let's take a look at character development, for starters. One recurring theme in anime seems to be the idea of the main character whose coolness is entirely self-justified. Some writers, it seems, have this bug in their head that main characters need no real motivation or impetus for their potency – as though their innate spiff is sufficient to sustain interest. Look at Ichigo of Bleach, or the namesake of Inuyasha, as examples of this conundrum. Did they undergo some special training or at least utilize their keen intellects in order to become powerful? Certainly not. All they needed to do was swing their big swords and prattle on about who they're protecting, or what they're fighting for, or...whatever. Antithetically, we have characters such as Alphonse Elric of Fullmetal Alchemist and Van Fanel of Escaflowne. They studied and practiced their craft with diligence and motivation, striving to attain their life goals. That's what made them cool characters, not their sweet outfits or neat-o weapons.

On a related note, many animes suffer from an inability to map out character history in advance. Flashbacks have become absurdly proliferate (as demonstrated in Naruto), and the value of developed, realistic characters slips away all too often. Why, writers seem to reason, should one bother with creating a believable past for characters when you can simply invent it on the fly with a lengthy, action-sequence-interrupting flashback? The answer to this question seems rather obvious to me: when you delineate their history in advance, it helps us to empathize with the characters and understand their experiences and desires, so that when a past-pertinent enemy arrives on the scene we feel as the character does immediately rather than waiting for some random revelation which seems as though it was obtrusively tacked on at the last second. When this material is relegated to whatever moment is convenient (i.e. the moment that the past event becomes necessary to understand), then it demonstrates both a lack of foresight and flat-out ill taste.

Viewers enjoy when connections are drawn between the events of an early episode and those of one occurring long afterwards, since it leads us to believe that the anime is a part of some consistent and nigh-plausible vision on the part of its conceivers. Those of you who've seen Fullmetal Alchemist can surely appreciate this – the extraordinary incident which takes place in Alphonse and Edward's childhood not only deepened our understanding of the pair, but became the focal point of future revelations which were of the utmost significance to the series. Conversely, flashbacks revealing the pasts of Gaara and Kimimaro of Naruto fame had all the subtlety of a baseball bat to the forehead, and no doubt inflicted a similar effect on the brain cells of viewers.

Yet another idiosyncrasy among modern anime is that of the perfectly ordinary, ho-de-dum high school or middle school student who suddenly learns that they've been endowed with some absurd supernatural ability, and need to go fight an out-of-the-blue evil force. While the concept is not entirely dross, since no doubt most anime-viewers are high school or middle school students themselves, it has been used in a manner both ludicrous and excessive, resulting in the rather aggressive beating of a long-dead horse. This became especially apparent to me as I watched DNAngel. Daisuke was such an ordinary, charming little boy, until – SHAZAM! – some nonsensical ancient magic surfaces for no apparent reason. The anime Bleach suffered from a similar pitfall. If this cliché absolutely must be executed, it at least ought to be done in the fashion of YuYu Hakusho, wherein the transition from student to supernatural fighter spanned a good number of episodes, rather than being an instantaneous metamorphosis.

Despite my qualms with much of the genre, I remain optimistic about the present and future of anime. It was, is, and no doubt long hereafter shall be a medium enjoyable for viewers, artists, writers, and minds of all sorts. I sincerely hope that the future developers of anime will recognize anime's artistic value and express themselves creatively in their work. By abstaining from the mediocre, they have the potential to pioneer a new, higher standard of anime which entertains adults and adolescents alike.