You'd be forgiven for recalling Aerosmith's "Dude Looks Like a Lady" in the opening credits of the voluminously titled Uragiri wa Boku no Namae wo Shitteiru; not for the song's namesake but because were it not for the obvious breasts, the lady would certainly resemble a gentleman. This is not surprising with an art style that revels in the androgynous, emblematic of a genre commonly characterised by male homosexual romances. Nothing in the opening episodes attempts to dispel this association, in many ways it revels in it with the liberal use of tropes that are keen to imply rather than extol. Despite the genre trappings however, the opening episodes are a muted but disappointing introduction to a series which while not widely accessible, plays to its strengths despite the ultimately derivative result of doing so.
women who are attentive, graceful and the only bright lights in a world populated by frowns and stoic metrosexual manliness
Yuki is an orphan, found abandoned in a hedge with only his name affixed to him, growing up feeling that he was unwanted by his parents. It doesn't help that he has the ability to see people's pasts and emotions with only a touch, making him increasingly isolated despite his looks earning him scores of adoring fans. Yuki's life is shaken up when his supposed half-brother makes an appearance and his ability to read other's emotions spins into overdrive, manifesting the unfortunate ability to shatter all glass around him. The sibling, Takashiro, seems to be involved was mysterious silver-eyed man, Zess, who saves Yuki when a classmate takes a deadly interest in him. Yuki's ability may yet come to have some greater significance and his life shows no indication of settling back down.
A concept such as a brother's romantic entanglement with his two, admittedly non-blood related, sisters does not seem like one suited to crippling mediocrity - but Kiss×Sis, by some monumental feat, manages exactly that. The odd family arrangement mirrors that of the series which spans multiple media including an OVA released with the ongoing manga. This saturation of different versions is utter overkill for a bland story and weak characters but compounded here in the TV offering by minimal naughtiness and a wholly uninspiring production of stilted animation and insipid music. The positives are rare but include how peculiarly inventive the narrative is in placing the sisters in situations ripe for corrupting their brother, as well as portraying the two perverse, red-haired seductresses' intentions as naive and almost pure. Those pluses however are eclipsed by the multitude of negatives which only reinforce the fact that this was a stillborn idea before it was ever committed to paper or animation.
makes light of situation which is socially and morally bankrupt in order to legitimise a deviant fetish
Keita is his father's son, unfortunately for him his sisters are his stepmother's daughters and while a blended family isn't abnormal, his sisters' vocal affection for him is. They are intent on helping him get into their high school which involves some rather unique methods of tutoring, however both Ako and Riko vie for Keita's affections which spills out into a continual struggle for supremacy. This usually ends up with Keita in the middle attempting to unsuccessfully mediate or otherwise remove himself from the squabble. Although at first disparaging of their romantic feelings, he begins to feel something for them as well, and being all under the same roof it may not be long before something extra curricular happens.
Alex Kerr is no stranger to Japan, his books and history demonstrate a continuing personal involvement and deep affection for the country which is hard to find in many foreigners. Perhaps best know for the seminal Lost Japan, Dogs and Demons: The Fall of Modern Japan was published eight years later in 2002 and aims to get to the heart of how Japan as a nation has been degrading since the Second World War and before. At times it is a bleak and unforgiving book that aims with ruthless precision to uncover why Japan, once sequestered, then exposed, then devastated, then superior and now, supposedly irrelevant, has become that way. By and large it succeeds and prises open a world that no other book has had the courage to touch upon - indeed Kerr expands on this at many points throughout the ~400 page book. Unfortunately though it is hamstrung by many arguments which boil down to personal opinion and though convincing, it is difficult not to see this as only one side to a very complex and pertinent argument.
acts a touchstone for a country exiting a period of stagnation and turbulence but whether anything has changed in the meantime is the biggest question
I was first introduced to the book through Joi Ito's blog which also recommended and revealed a number of other alternativebooks around Japan that are currently on my reading stack. It is the first Japan related book that I have read that doesn't take either an educational or effusive stance on the country or element of its culture which was the greatest hurdle to overcome when starting out. The writing style is clean and precise which is excellent for getting across fact but not so when dealing with opinion. As Kerr mentions, the statistics he includes are accurate to the best of his ability but thanks to the idiosyncrasies of reporting and accounting, many are hard to verify; regardless the breadth of research that went into the book is awe inspiring and although it is now becoming dated, what is surprising is not only how relevant the book still is but how relevant it is regarding the recent economic turmoil suffered by the majority of the developed world.
Watching Yojouhan Shinwa Taikei is like watching a very complex engine; there's the constant thrum as it operates - provided here by Shintaro Asanuma's staccato voice - the complex mechanisms all operating together in order to drive... something. In the first three episodes the series doesn't reveal what it is attempting to convey or even how it intends to fill the remainder of its eleven episode run, there is only the core situation, continuously augmented, with the nameless protagonist at the centre. Bolstering this Groundhog Day-esque scenario is an impossibly trendy production from Madhouse that sports a gung-ho, raucous animation style and an opening backed by Asian Kung-fu Generation. There is an infectious, breathless enthusiasm to the opening episodes but whether this will be maintained and the final twist worthwhile, will make or break the series.
Sly nods to popular culture reinforce its underlying attacks on community, creativity and personal fulfilment
The opening days of a university education are filled with promise, especially the decision on which club to join to best spend time in between lectures. The protagonist opts first for the tennis club but discovers too late the skills required to make friends and, crucially, woo partners of the opposite sex. Instead he throws his lot in with Ozu, a snide and vindictive young man with a face only a mother could love and a penchant for causing brainless mischief wherever he goes. Complicating this mix is Akashi, a cantankerous and forthright girl who seems to take a special interest in the protagonist, much to his delight. When his tennis club adventures end with him being thrown into a raging river, time reverses and he is given another chance at a club, this time choosing the film club. Events end badly once again, as too does the cycling circle; it seems that the protagonist is tied to Ozu with the "black thread of fate", or perhaps the local deity or suspect fortune teller have something to do with his continuing mishaps.
Not to be confused with the horror novel, House of Leaves, House of Five Leaves sports a visually distinctive aesthetic that mixes painterly backgrounds with spindly, dark eyed characters. More effective in motion than in stills, the opening trio of episodes are methodically paced, carefully balancing the meandering story with character development - a cast of rogues that revels in the offbeat and avoids archetypes. Dealing with a variety of social and moral grey areas, the question of who the real villains are underpins a lot of narrative but it is the well crafted protagonist which keeps this series fresh and engaging.
an idea perhaps foreign in anime that frequently features blue haired and buxom protagonists
Masanosuke Akitsu is a ronin down on his luck - unable to hold a steady job due to his perceived unreliability yet too proud to take on manual labour. His luck changes however when by chance he meets Yaichi, a mysterious and carefree man coincidentally on the lookout for a softly spoken but capable samurai to become his bodyguard. Masa's first encounter on the job however reveals an unsavoury side to Yaichi who it transpires is the head of the Five Leaves, a group which kidnaps members of rich families and demands a ransom for their return. Masa is conflicted about this turn of events and although Yaichi has a strange fascination towards him, he cannot in good conscience continue to work for them, even if they do feed him and he keeps company with their members. His unwitting hand in the kidnap of a young boy however may be enough to divorce him from the group for good.
