Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Review: EAGLE

Today's review is just one of those happy coincidences.  What could be more perfect for an Old-School Month review in 2016 than an old manga that's all about an American presidential campaign?  Lord knows it couldn't be any weirder than the real deal.

EAGLE (Iguru), by Kenji Kawaguchi.  First published in 1997 and first published in North America in 2000.



PLOT:

Just as he loses his mother, Takashi Jo gets the opportunity of a lifetime: a chance to cover the presidential campaign for Kenneth Yamaoka, a up-and-coming Japanese-American senator.  As Takashi immerses himself inside Yamaoka's campaign staff, he discovers that there's a lot more political wheeling and dealing behind-the-scenes than he could have imagined.  Takashi also discovers a secret that connects his and Yamaoka's family, one that leaves him wondering just what Kenneth truly want from him?

STORY:

It's a hard thing to make something as intellectual as a political campaign exciting, particularly when translating it to comic form.  Eagle manages this feat through a heady combination of personal drama and good research.

Takashi may be our audience stand-in, but it doesn't take long for him to get lost in the metaphorical shadow of Kenneth Yamaoka.  It's easy to understand how this could happen, as Kenneth is the sort of charismatic, larger-than-life figure that most politicians strive to be, a politician clearly cut from the Clinton mold.  He's a brilliant speaker, he's thoughtful, resourceful, and able to trade on both his Asian-American heritage and his wealthy, loving, and very white family.  More than once, Takashi has to mentally stop himself from getting swept up in the campaign so that he can remain objective. 

Of course, as any reasonably observant American reader would know, just about any seemingly perfect politician has a scandal or two hidden within them, and Yamaoka ends up being no exception to that.  Takashi's enthusiasm transforms into equal parts curiosity and skepticism after Yamaoka makes a major confession to him.  It's a fairly predictable one, considering how much the story emphasized at the beginning that Takashi has a American serviceman father that he's never known.  There's also family drama within the Yamaokas, as Kenneth's wife is fully aware of Takashi's connection to him and Kenneth's teenage son is dealing with a massive inferiority complex, a short temper, and a lack of scruples, something which threatens to make him a liability  Still, this confession and the fallout from it leads Takashi (and the reader) to suspect that Takashi's coverage is part of a larger plan on Kenneth's part, and it's this internal conflict that drives much of the emotional drama in the story.

I do have to give Kawaguchi credit for doing his research when it came to American politics.  He clearly did a lot of reading on the Clinton-era elections and he does a good job covering the ins and outs of the process.  We see a lot of the everyday work with the campaign managers, meetings with influential donors, campaign staff canvassing for votes, and even independent analysts doing their best to guess the meaning behind an opponent's actions and find ways to one-up them at their own game.  He even throws in some rather obvious riffs on real-life politicans, the most obvious being Yamaoka's opponent Albert Gore Albert Noah, who currently serves as vice-president in-story.  Now, that does mean that a significant portion of the story boils down to a lot of heated conversations and not a lot of physical action, but Kawaguchi puts enough strategy and passion in each one to make them compelling. 

These kinds of stories are not often told outside of nonfiction, so finding a manga like Eagle that translates this sort of talkative political action so faithfully and so thrillingly is a true marvel.  I can understand why such a story would not connect with the larger manga audience, but they are truly missing out by doing so.

ART:

Kawaguchi's art style is one that's common in this sort of seinen story, and one that's likely to remind most readers of Naoto Urasawa.  The characters look much like the target audience for this work - lots of blocky, square-jawed, guys that are middle-aged or close enough to it to count.  I guess Kawaguchi wanted to give these guys enough of a physical presence on the page to match the intellectual and/or political power they wield.  The women are a little more varied in age and shape, but fanservice in any form is nonexistent.  Kawaguchi's research can often be seen in his backgrounds, as they feature everything from actual New Hampshire campaign landmarks to billboards showing off a then-current ad campaign for the Marines.  I haven't seen this level of detail applied to an American setting since Gunsmith Cats, and I'm genuinely impressed with the effort.

That being said, he's still got his limits as an artist.  The characters may all be fairly grounded in style, but their expressions and movements are kind of stiff on the page.  The politicians in particular then to come off like walking Ken dolls, that's how stiff they are.  He also isn't terribly good at drawing crying.  That becomes a problem as Takeshi starts to weep in frustration as the story goes on, and he tends to look more like his eyes are melting while he stares into the middle distance.  These are minor quibbles, admittedly, but they do detract from what is otherwise a solidly drawn work with a great eye for the geographic details.

RATING:

Eagle manages to combine the drama of a political campaign with the drama of one man searching for the truth behind his own past, and the end result is effective and compelling.  Even if you're not the sort who consumes political thrillers like candy, this is an underrated manga that deserves a second look.

This series was published by Viz.  This series is complete in Japan with 11 volumes available.  All 11 were published as 22 comics and as 5 omnibuses, and all are currently out of print.

Friday, August 5, 2016

Review: MAISON IKKOKU

Yeah...it's been a while since I've been back here.  Admittedly, I do have what I hope is a reasonable excuse: I got married!

Yes, as of June 25th I am a married woman, and two weeks afterwards we got to spend nearly two weeks having loads of fun on our honeymoon in Japan!  It took a lot of convincing early on, but we ended up going on a guided tour through PacSet Tours.  I'm really glad we did so, in spite of the stifling humidity that blanketed most of our destinations for most of the trip.  We got to see quite a bit of Tokyo, Osaka, and Kanazawa, eat a lot of glorious food, spend a lot of money on video games, art books, and (in his case) a lot of CC Lemon, and enjoy not only our own company but that of our awesome tour group.

Understandably, I was not able to update the site during that time.  Also, it took me until quite recently to get my sleep schedule back to normal and thus able and willing to get back to work.  Jetlag is real, y'all.

Anyway!  As it is now August, that means it's time once more for Old-School Month, and I'm taking this opportunity to get around to a mangaka that I've been avoiding for far too long: Rumiko Takahashi.

MAISON IKKOKU (Mezon Ikkoku), by Rumiko Takahashi.  First published in 1980 and first published in North America in 1992.



PLOT:

Godai is trying his hardest to get into college, despite his numerous failed attempts.  Of course, it doesn't help that his fellow housemates are determined to mock and distract him at every turn or that he tends to get discourage very easily.  Soon enough, Godai finds a new source of inspiration: the lovely new landlord, Kyoko Otonashi.  She's a sweet and beautiful woman, and from first sight Godai is determined to win her heart.  Unfortunately, she's also a recent widow and Godai's going to have to do a lot more than just get into college to make a truly good impression with her.

STORY:

For a lot of modern manga readers, it's hard to remember a time when Rumiko Takahashi was relevant and popular.  Back in the 1990s, she was one of the biggest name in all of manga.  Many manga readers, both men and women, became fans in part because of her works.  Time has sadly not been kind to her and her fandom.  A lot of her fandom got burnt out thanks to Inuyasha, and the public's taste in shonen romantic comedies shifted to raunchier, more pandering works than her own.  That's honestly kind of a shame because looking back now, Maison Ikkoku has loads of charm and it's easy to see why even today it's considered one of her best works.

It can't be understanded how much it helps that Godai might be the most likeable of her male protagonists.  Sure, he's a little immature and aimless, but he's not a total lech like Ataru or a thoughtless jerk like Ranma or Inuyasha.  You don't have to look too deeply to see that Godai is a decent person who does try to improve himself as a person.  The same can be said for Kyoko.  She's no comical tsundere, but instead a fairly steady person with a lot of lingering sadness over the loss of her husband.  She has thoughts and needs outside of Godai and more often than not the story has just as much fun at her expense as it does with Godai.  By treating them so fairly, Takahashi humanizes them both and it goes a long way towards helping the reader get invested in them as individuals and as a potential couple.

Maison Ikokku is normally held up as a great romance manga, but people forget that it's also quite funny.  There are plenty of jokes and comic misunderstandings, but they are built a lot more on farcical wordplay and Daffy Duck-style misdirection than slapstick and bickering.  That means that the jokes here not only come off as a little more mature than a lot of Takahashi's other works, but have also aged extraordinarily well.  The only downside is that it can come off as a bit mean-spirited at times, but that may just be the influence of Godai's housemates on the story as a whole.  After all, they're all shown to be sort of losers in their own right taking out their frustrations on a convienent target.  There's a housewife, a drunken hostess, and....well, no one ever quite explains what Mr. Yotsuya does other than peep, mooch and drink. 

That being said, the plot can get a little repetitious at times.  Most of the early chapters follow a pretty standard formula: Godai tries to study/make a move on Kyoko, misunderstandings occur, hilarity ensues.  Things do start to make more progress as the volume goes on, though.  Near the end we start to learn more about Kyoko's short-lived marriage when her in-laws show up for a visit.  We also see her feelings for Godai start to evolve from distant pleasantness to a more familiar fondness, which causes her stress because she feels that conflicts with her all-too-fresh grief for her late husband, and that creates some surprisingly serious emotional drama.  Progress between the two is made, but it comes in fits and starts.  Nonetheless, the fact that there is progress at all puts this a notch above many of its genremates.  There's just enough progression and character building to keep things interesting but it's not sacrificing the development of our leads in the name of plot progress alone.  Maison Ikkoku strikes a low-key but fine-tuned balance between humor, romance, and characters that's still charming over 25 years later.

ART:

Maison Ikkoku is early enough in Takahashi's career that the artwork hadn't taken on the bland and rounded polish of her later works.  Sure, the cast is drawn in the squat-headed, poofy-haired, short-torsoed style that she has always used, but the edges are little rougher and the expressions are more comic, even zany at times.  Still, she finds plenty of room to linger on Kyoko's pretty face in a way that suggests the manga equivalent of soft focus.  The panels tend to be small, which keeps the focus mostly on the characters instead of the broken-down boarding house around them.  That's a little bit of a shame, as the titular maison does have its charms...at least, unless the house's perpetual fixer-upper status is the point of a particular chapter.  Nonetheless, like the story itself the artwork is charming and surprisingly timeless.

RATING:

Maison Ikkoku remains one of the standouts of Rumiko Takahashi's canon thanks to a fairly well-rounded cast and a tendency towards romantic farce than silly slapstick.  It's a shonen romance that's aged far better than similar works half its age, and it's one that's still well worth seeking out.

This series was licensed by Viz.  The series is complete in Japan with 15 volumes available.  All 15 have been published and are currently out of print.

Seriously Viz, were is the reprint for this series?  I'm happy the rerelease of Ranma 1/2 did well, but omnibuses for this series would be a Day 1 preorder for me and many others like me.  Make this happen.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Review: SENSUAL PHRASE

Oh Mayu Shinjo.  We meet again.  It's not the first time she's written a manga about musicians, so she was a natural choice for this month.  I just wish she didn't have so much of a taste for trashy romance.

SENSUAL PHRASE (Kaikan Furezu), by Mayu Shinjo.  First published in 1997 and first published in North America in 2004.



PLOT:

Aine is a romantic high school girl with dreams of becoming a great songwriter.  On her way to an audition, she nearly gets hit by a car.  Inside that car is Sakuya, the handsome lead singer of the popular band Lucifer.  The accident causes Aine to lose her lyric sheet, and at the concert she discovers that Sakuya found them and turned them into a song.  He immediately makes her the band's official songwriter, and he's equally determined to give her plenty of material to write about by attempting to seduce her at every turn.  This attention soon makes Aine the target of many jealous parties.  Will Lucifer's fandom and Aine's school friends tear their romance apart before it even begins?

STORY:

Sensual Phrase is the manga equivalent of a bad romance novel, even more so than the manga adaptations of actual Harlequin novels floating around the internet.  It constantly uses cheap shoujo clichés to further its thin plot along.  Maybe this is fun when you're a teenager, but as a grown woman I found it tedious.

Aine and Sakuya's relationship is shallow, dull, and deeply unbalanced.  Aine is only distinguished by her earnestness and a rather muddled understanding of her own desires.  Sakuya, on the other hand, is smugness personified from beginning to end.  The only connections the two seem to share is a common interest in music and a mutual lust for one another.  Even then, the latter is mostly expressed by having Sakuya molesting Aine whenever he can (whether she wants him to or not) and all but pissing on her to make Aine as 'his'.  Shinjo clearly recognized that this could make him look like the creep that he truly is, so she was determined to give him plenty of moments of heroism.  What that means in practice, though, is that she keeps throwing strange men and bitchy girls at Aine so that Sakuya can play at being a white knight while Aine whimpers on the sidelines.

When she's not writing yet another bit of cheap drama, she fills the space by having Aine and damn near every other woman in the story go into raptures about how Sakuya is so beautiful, talented, and all-around amazing.  Apparently he's so dazzling, so literally radiant that he overshadows all the other band members, which is why I couldn't tell you a damn thing about them.  From my experience, the more that a mangaka has to explain to the reader how awesome a character is instead of demonstrating it, the less awesome the character truly is.  Thus, her claims come off as incredibly weak.  They are further undercut by the fact that the lyrics on the page don't exactly convey any sense of excellence.  Mind you, this is due in part to the difficulties of translating lyrics from one language to another.  Like poetry, it's not enough to translate it literally.  It takes a flare for rhyme, rhythm and language to make it sound like something someone could sing.  This undercuts the notion that Aine is supposed to be so talented at writing love songs despite her youth and romantic inexperience. 

Sensual Phrase wants so badly to be a risqué showbiz romance, but I have a hard time believing that even the teen girl audience this was meant for would buy into this.  There's no passion, no genuine tension, and no personality to be found here, and without any of those it simply blends into the crowd of shoujo manga.

ART:

Shinjo's artwork is as clichéd as her storywriting.  The characters are exceedingly average-looking.  The girls are round and big-eyed, and the boys are stereotypical bishonen.  One quality that does distinguish Shinjo from the crowd is her commitment to fanservice.  Whenever Aine's clothes are ripped off (yes, this happens more than once), her undergarments and nipples are fully detailed.  Sadly, she's not even-handed with this sort of detail, as Sakuya's nipples are never to be seen despite being shirtless fairly often.  She doesn't bother with shading, so everything looks incredibly flat. 

PRESENTATION:

Shoujo Beat titles rarely include any sort of extras, but why on earth did Viz feel the need to pad this out with a short essay from some freelance journalist?

RATING:

Sensual Phrase is little more than a music-themed, modern-day bodice-ripper.  The story is nothing but sexist shoujo clichés and the art is plain and generic.  Sensual Phrase is about as sensual as a tuna fish sandwich.

This series is published by Viz.  This series is complete in Japan with 18 volumes available.  All the volumes were published and are currently out of print. 

Saturday, June 18, 2016

Review: NODAME CANTABILE

OK, I've been slacking off.  Working on a wedding will do that to you.  Well, no time like the present then to take a look at one of the most notable titles to be lost in the Del-Ray/Kodansha takeover.

No, not Moyasimon.  No, not Mushishi either.  The other one.

NODAME CANTABILE (Nodame Kantabire), by Tomoko Ninomiya.  First published in 2001 and first published in North America in 2005.



PLOT:

Shinichi Chiaki is a brilliant music student, even by the high standards of the music school he attends.  He's determined to become a great conductor like his mentor.  There are just two problems with that plan.  First of all, Chiaki is afraid of flying, which prevents him from studying abroad with said mentor.  Secondly, Chiaki is so arrogant about his skills that he believes that none of his professors are good enough to teach him what he wants to learn.  His latest teacher flat-out kicks him out of his classes and sends him to Eito-sensei, a teacher renowned for taking in all the drop-outs and difficult kids.  It's through him that Shinichi meets Megumi Noda, aka Nodame.  She's something of an idiot savant, in that she's a simple-minded slob with little to no musical discipline, but she can learn just about any piece by ear and plays with an incredible amount of emotion.  Chiaki takes it upon himself to clean up Nodame's life and turn her into a proper piano student, but in doing so he learns just as much about himself and music as he does about Nodame.

STORY:

It really pains me to say this because I know a lot of manga reviews loved this series.  Still, I have to be honest, and this is the truth: I did not like Nodame Cantabile.  Why?  Because I couldn't stand the main couple.

I've gone over some of my personal pet peeves of fiction on this site, but one I don't talk about so much is my dislike of Manic Pixie Dream Girls.  They're one of the worst tropes in romance.  If I see one more story about a girl who isn't a girl so much as she is a collection of oh-so-wacky and/or countercultural quirks who exists mostly to cheer up some sad-sack guy, I'm going to puke.  So already Nodame Cantabile was at a disadvantage because Nodame is very much a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, minus the Manic part.  Her quirk is apparently living like a child, from the way she lives in a apartment made of trash piles and mold to her infrequent bathing habits to the way she steals food from friends even when asked not to.  This gives her relationship with Chiaki a paternalistic air that makes the prospect of a romance between these two hard to stomach.  Worse still, once Chiaki enters her life, Nodame imprints on him like a puppy.  She thrives on the attention he gives her, no matter whether it's positive or not.  When he's not around, she's depressed to the point that she can barely bother with everyday tasks, much less playing music.  I understand that Ninomiya means for all of this to be charming and that we're supposed to overlook her quirks for the sake of her talent, but I have to agree with Chiaki: Nodame is a disaster of a girl.

That's not to say that Chiaki is much better.  He's a selfish, stuck-up, neurotic little asshole.  You have to wonder why he even bothered with this school if all he can do is complain about his professors while idolizing his childhood mentor.  You also have to wonder why he wouldn't bother with some actual therapy to deal with his fear of flight considering how blatantly it is holding him back from his dreams.  That being said, his character arc here is handled far more gracefully than Nodame's.  By interacting with her and the other trouble students, Chiaki is forced out of his comfort zones and to think outside the box.  He discovers within himself the ability to teach others without necessarily sacrificing their own unique styles.  He's still kind of an asshole by volume's end, but he's clearly on a path to becoming far less of one.  I just wish that it didn't have to come at Nodame's hands, as being around her tends to bring out a lot of his worst qualities in the name of 'comedy.' 

So I have some issues with the characters, but what about the music itself?  After all, this is a story about music students.  As such, it should be able to communicate some of the passion and beauty of their performances.  Sadly, Ninomiya isn't quite up to the task.  She can describe the music all she wants and draw the characters making weird faces as they lose themselves in the performance, but like so many others before her, she can't quite make up for the lack of audio.  Unless you've got the pieces queued up to play along, something will always be lost.

Nodame Cantabile has such a fine reputation, and it's truly a shame that I find it so frustrating.  The biggest problem was that Nodame and Chiaki drove me nuts most of the time, and because of that I couldn't get invested in anything going on between them.  Ninomiya clearly knows her stuff when it comes to classical music, but her approach to romance is somewhat lacking.

ART:

Nodame Cantabile's art is simple but effective.  The characters are simple and plain, and sometimes there are still some rough lines left in, as if Ninomiya didn't erase them after inking the page.  Still, there are little bits of weirdness that give the characters a bit of charm, such as the weird faces Nodame makes while performing.  She doesn't get terribly fancy when it comes to drawing clothes, but she clearly loves using fancy screentones to decorate Nodame's dresses.  This plainness is contrasted with the level of loving detail she gives the instruments, which are clearly drawn from reference.  She also tries to capture the quality of a performance through doodles and screentones, be they nauseous swirls, shoujo sparkles, or crackling lightning.  It doesn't entirely make up for the lack of literal music, but it's a good idea and it's executed fairly well.

RATING:

It's weird.  As much as I didn't like the leading couple, I didn't entirely hate Nodame Cantabile.  I get what it's trying to do, and as far as Chiaki is concerned it's actually working fairly well.  It's just that the romantic element didn't work for me at all, and no amount of visual charm could completely compensate for this.

This series was published by Del-Ray.  This series is complete in Japan with 23 volumes available.  16 volumes were published and all are currently out of print.

Friday, June 3, 2016

Review: FULL MOON O SAGASHITE

Last month required reading a lot of heavy drama, so let's lighten things up by looking at some manga about music and musical performance.  Surely I could find something cute and fun to read to kick things off!  So why the hell did I pick up this series expecting that?

FULL MOON O SAGASHITE (Furu Mun o Sagashite), by Arina Tanemura.  First published in 2002, and first published in North America in 2005.



PLOT:

Mitsuki Koyama might be the most tragic girl around.  She's an orphan living with her strict grandmother and separated from her only friend by an ocean.  On top of that, she's been diagnosed with throat cancer at the tender age of 11.  She could remove the cancer with surgery, but doing so would remove her ability to sing.  Mitsuki loves singing too much to do so, even if it means her inevitable death.  Fate intervenes for her in the form of two shinigami who make her a deal.  Mitsuki has only a year to live, but they will give her the ability to age herself up and hide her identity so she audition for a music label.  She can pursue her dream of becoming an idol, but at the end of year she will peacefully and willingly die.  For Mitsuki, any deal is worth it if she can share her song with the world and find her beloved long-lost friend.

STORY:

It's been a while since I've tackled an Arina Tanemura work.  The last time I looked at one, I lamented how she had a terrible tendency to drown out any good ideas or interesting concepts with a zillion other plot threads and a hectic sense of pacing.  From what I see here, it seems that this a not just a problem with Sakura-Hime in particular, but with Full Moon as well.

Mitsuki is just unbelievable - literally!  First, there's her actual personality, which is so saintly and perfect that it would make even Tohru Honda puke.  Then there's her backstory.  I've seen opera heroines with less tragedy in their lives than her!  It's not enough for her to be an orphan, but she also has to have an unpleasant foster parent AND pining for a lost love AND suffering from terminal cancer!  It's a blatantly naked attempt at building sympathy for Mitsuki to compensate for her lack of personality, and it's almost laughable in execution.  It's especially misguided when you consider that Mitsuki does have something that's genuinely tragic: she knows when she's going to die.  Even if she succeeds as an idol singer, she knows that it will not last and every day is one more closer to her death.  That's genuinely tragic and that's something that should tinge her career with sadness, even regret.  It's too bad then that Tanemura pretty much forgets about this from the moment that she wins her audition.  There's no time to be sad - Mitsuki is going to be a STAR!

The idol singer parts of her life aren't handled much better.  They're either mined for cheap comedy (like Mitsuki's drunken manager) or for cheap drama (such as the rival girl who passive-aggressively bullies Mitsuki).  Meanwhile there's also the plotline with Meroko and Takuto, the two shinigami making this all possible.  Meroko has a giant obvious crush on Takuto, and Takuto is not only oblivious to all this, but is hinted to have a connection to Mitsuki in his own past.  The unrequited love angle doesn't just adds another complication to a plot already full of them, but it also overshadows the more compelling one that's just about Takuto.  I just hope that the weirdly romantic tone of it is entirely in my imagination and not intentional because MITSUKI IS FREAKING 12 AND I DON'T CARE IF HE'S A SUPERNATURAL BEING, THAT IS CREEPY.

There truly is a germ of a good idea in Full Moon, where a young girl gets a chance to live out her dream before her imminent death. The problem is that as a writer, Tanemura can't give it the space or the solemnity it needs to truly shine.  Instead she would rather keep adding complications and blatantly going for the heartstrings in the hopes of keeping the audience distracted.

ART:

My general opinion of Tanemura's art hasn't changed.  She still draws the same cutesy characters with their overly simple faces that are dominated by those enormous saucer eyes.  She still seems to prefer drawing fancy, frilly dresses over drawing the characters wearing them.   It's not only Mitsuki that suffers from this; the shinigami wear silly costumes that are meant to comfort dying children but instead look like the early 90s exploded on them.  She also still can't be bothered with backgrounds and instead just pastes every sort of screentone and effect possible over the empty space.  The panels are still hopelessly cluttered that it sometimes becomes difficult to follow.  The only major difference is that the artwork of Full Moon doesn't feature the fine detail that served as the saving grace for Sakura-Hime's art.  It seems that Tanemura's artistic flaws are not a new thing, and it's a style that just always rubs me the wrong way.

RATING:

Arina Tanemura frustrates me in a way that few mangaka do.  She's not a complete hack, but it seems that from the very start she was always drowning out the good qualities of her works with too much STUFF.  Full Moon o Sagashite is no exception to this and because of that I can't recommend it.

This series is published by Viz.  This series is complete in Japan with 7 volumes available.  All 7 have been published and are current in print and available in e-book form.