Kuragehime
Jan. 15th, 2011 01:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sanetWhen Kuragehime (“Princess Jellyfish”) debuted on Japanese television back in Fall 2010, my first thought was: oh my god, they made an anime about me. Ok, not exactly about me. I’m not an 18-year-old NEET living in a Tokyo apartment full of female otaku, like the heroine, Tsukimi. But a jellyfish-loving virgin geek girl? Yes indeed! And it’s cool to see a story about someone like that.
Well, that was my gut reaction to the premise. I’ve been following the series online since then, and really it’s not much like my life or the lives of any fangirls I know. But as far as the fall season’s crop of “otaku meta-anime” went, Kuragehime did turn out to be one of the most enjoyable: a show about some eccentric people who like eccentric things, told with heart and humour, in a non-exploitative way.
Also, the opening credits are pretty fun!
.
Kuragehime. Dir. Omori Takahiro. Manga by Higashimura Akiko. Fuji TV/Noitamina, 2010.
Kuragehime follows the story of Tsukimi, a shy, plain young woman who saw a beautiful jellyfish exhibit as a girl with her now-deceased mother and came to love the lacy invertebrates, to the point of becoming a complete jellyfish otaku (or maybe “fujoshi” in the loosest sense of “female fan”). She lives in an all-female apartment building called Amamizu-kan with a group of awkward outcasts who each have a unique passion: trains, dolls, old guys, Chinese military history, and yes, BL, represented by an elusive manga-ka worshipped by all the others. The problem: Amamizu-kan is under attack by a nefarious real-estate developer who will stop at nothing to get her condos built. How can the girls save their sanctuary when they can barely speak a word in public?
Enter a stunning, fashionable pink-haired princess of a woman –who also happens to be the son of a prominent politician passing in perfect drag. Pretty-boy Kuranosuke takes a shine to Tsukimi after helping her save a jellyfish from an ignorant pet-shop clerk, and becomes determined to see the group raise enough money to save their apartment and stay just as they are. This naturally means some transformations, as he helps them dress better for public meetings and leads Tsukimi into the exciting world of jellyfish-inspired clothing design.
From this summary, it might seem like Kuragehime is an “otaku conversion” narrative, something like the film Densha Otoko (Train Man.) In that blockbuster film/tv series, badly-dressed otaku loser Densha meets a beautiful, fashionable girl Hermes and learns to better himself for love of her by reintegrating into society --or rather, into what critics like Kashimura Aiko have called “capitalist romance,” the equation of love and brand consumption. But I think that Kuragehime overplays, even queers, that capitalist romance story. Kuranosuke-as-fashionable-girl is a performance, a parody of the character Hermes, as Judith Butler might say. And the goal of his relationship with Tsukimi is not to get her to hook up with him and buy clothes, but to help her make clothes based on her abiding personal love of jellyfish, so that she can continue to be herself.
That’s one reason why I say the show isn’t exploitative. In the first place, it doesn’t pander so blatantly to a one-dimensional idea of otaku/fujoshi kinks, as shows like The World God Only Knows (or, god help us, MM!) did last season. More importantly, it doesn’t depict its fan characters in an exploitative way, or make them into models of good consumerist/romance behaviour. They’re pretty over-the-top, don’t get me wrong. But the tone strikes me as one of sympathetic self-parody, not of sensationalization. I give it a pass. I think that so far, this is a positive direction for anime about anime fans. At only 11 episodes, though, this short season of Kuragehime ends opened-ended: no one has gotten together, and the apartment is temporarily saved with a deus ex machina of a solution that isn’t certain to succeed long-term. So my conclusion is also open to revision.
Well, that was my gut reaction to the premise. I’ve been following the series online since then, and really it’s not much like my life or the lives of any fangirls I know. But as far as the fall season’s crop of “otaku meta-anime” went, Kuragehime did turn out to be one of the most enjoyable: a show about some eccentric people who like eccentric things, told with heart and humour, in a non-exploitative way.
Also, the opening credits are pretty fun!
.
Kuragehime. Dir. Omori Takahiro. Manga by Higashimura Akiko. Fuji TV/Noitamina, 2010.
Kuragehime follows the story of Tsukimi, a shy, plain young woman who saw a beautiful jellyfish exhibit as a girl with her now-deceased mother and came to love the lacy invertebrates, to the point of becoming a complete jellyfish otaku (or maybe “fujoshi” in the loosest sense of “female fan”). She lives in an all-female apartment building called Amamizu-kan with a group of awkward outcasts who each have a unique passion: trains, dolls, old guys, Chinese military history, and yes, BL, represented by an elusive manga-ka worshipped by all the others. The problem: Amamizu-kan is under attack by a nefarious real-estate developer who will stop at nothing to get her condos built. How can the girls save their sanctuary when they can barely speak a word in public?
Enter a stunning, fashionable pink-haired princess of a woman –who also happens to be the son of a prominent politician passing in perfect drag. Pretty-boy Kuranosuke takes a shine to Tsukimi after helping her save a jellyfish from an ignorant pet-shop clerk, and becomes determined to see the group raise enough money to save their apartment and stay just as they are. This naturally means some transformations, as he helps them dress better for public meetings and leads Tsukimi into the exciting world of jellyfish-inspired clothing design.
From this summary, it might seem like Kuragehime is an “otaku conversion” narrative, something like the film Densha Otoko (Train Man.) In that blockbuster film/tv series, badly-dressed otaku loser Densha meets a beautiful, fashionable girl Hermes and learns to better himself for love of her by reintegrating into society --or rather, into what critics like Kashimura Aiko have called “capitalist romance,” the equation of love and brand consumption. But I think that Kuragehime overplays, even queers, that capitalist romance story. Kuranosuke-as-fashionable-girl is a performance, a parody of the character Hermes, as Judith Butler might say. And the goal of his relationship with Tsukimi is not to get her to hook up with him and buy clothes, but to help her make clothes based on her abiding personal love of jellyfish, so that she can continue to be herself.
That’s one reason why I say the show isn’t exploitative. In the first place, it doesn’t pander so blatantly to a one-dimensional idea of otaku/fujoshi kinks, as shows like The World God Only Knows (or, god help us, MM!) did last season. More importantly, it doesn’t depict its fan characters in an exploitative way, or make them into models of good consumerist/romance behaviour. They’re pretty over-the-top, don’t get me wrong. But the tone strikes me as one of sympathetic self-parody, not of sensationalization. I give it a pass. I think that so far, this is a positive direction for anime about anime fans. At only 11 episodes, though, this short season of Kuragehime ends opened-ended: no one has gotten together, and the apartment is temporarily saved with a deus ex machina of a solution that isn’t certain to succeed long-term. So my conclusion is also open to revision.
