Instead, here’s a quick repost of the abstract I sent (two weeks late…) to Colony Drop as a submission for their fanzine (forthcoming, I have no idea the hell when).

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How Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea is Basically a Movie About a Cliff and Nothing Much More (Or, How Miyazaki Tricked Me Into Believing Just That)

While you might expect a colorful and energetic analysis of a film by Hayao Miyazaki, a filmmaker great enough to merit an Academy Award, this is an essay about flying fish.

Miyazaki’s Ponyo (2008) succeeds a long line of popular, animated films produced by Studio Ghibli, inclusive of such titles as Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away, many of which (if not all) do not feature flying fish or anything resembling airborne herring to the least degree. Ponyo, written and directed solely by Miyazaki (a first for the Studio), features a goldfish-turned-muppet-turned-girl named Brynhildr (later, she rejects her father-imposed name for the moniker, Ponyo, bestowed upon her by a five-year-old Japanese boy) who steals the role of protagonist in this film by shoving aside more-interesting characters and unresolved plot holes. And while Ponyo the film attempts to coat a bildungsroman with elementary-school zest, this is not a movie about Ponyo the muppet. This is a movie about flying fish.

Why flying fish? Or, why flying anything? Critics of Miyazaki’s films have continually highlighted the theme of flight that pervades his movies. However, flying is not what Miyazaki’s films are about. It’s really about hair. Hair, constantly moving, blown around by wind or falling or violent weapons whizzing by unprotected foreheads. Miyazaki loves to animate hair. Why do you think that My Neighbor Totoro — a film that features a monstrous, fuzzy amalgamation of a raccoon and owl — succeeds so well as an animated film, for instance? It’s certainly not the “cute” varmint that nearly devours a pair of juvenile girls in the barrens of a giant forest. The Studio has been blustering hair since Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind in 1984, gliding to Laputa: Castle in the Sky (1986), and culminating in the intense power of “the Ghibli Engine” that is the 1992 production of Porco Rosso.

But this is a movie about flying fish, correct? Right on the mark, but it’s about flying fish. Fish need water, water that Miyazaki unfortunately cannot animate in an acceptable manner. Water might be said to flow like hair in wind, but Miyazaki’s style dictates that all forms of liquid move like Play-doh, hair gel, or Irvin Yeaworth’s 1958 The Blob.

So, if Ponyo — a movie about a fish in the ocean — relies so much on water, does Ponyo flop? Well, this essay certainly will not let the lack of dramatic structure nor the focus on pure character profiling (the Miyazaki moé moment) slip by without lambaste. Miyazaki’s Ponyo is a wonderful work of art; however, it is not a good film. Yet, while I must believe that Isao Takahata is planning the ultimate smackdown for his directing partner in the near future, I affirm wholeheartedly that Ponyo is a good Miyazaki production.

Yes, Miyazaki pulls a fast one on his audience, forcing them to ask the filmgoer to their left or right, What the hell did we just watch?, usually preceded by, Why are Noah Cyrus and Frankie Jonas singing an Auto-tuned bastardization of the theme song in this American dub?, but he does so in a manner that satisfies the thematic animated style emphasized in his previous compositions. How? Flying fish. Miyazaki fashions a world where one never existed, between cliffs, a world of water in which fish fly like birds over submerged cars and through flourishing trees. And these silent flying fish carry Ponyo to the same pinnacle occupied by Spirited Away’s bathhouse or Laupta’s flying, aged castle.

I hope for this essay to fill in many holes left by ignorant American otaku on the history, style, and animation of Miyazaki’s most popular Ghibli films. And, of course, focus a bit more on the important elemental scenes of Ponyo, such as the flying fish that most reviewers so astutely and skillfully ignore.

Anime Expo was awesome, hands down. If I have panels accepted next year, I will make an effort to return, definitely. And there are many critical comments I can make about Anime Expo, such as the relationship between industry and fans, or the large size of the convention as justification for its importance (though in my opinion it shouldn’t have to be). Today, I’m going to focus on the Anime Expo dealers’ room.

Anime Expo’s dealers’ room is gigantic. If you’ve ever been limited to East Coast conventions, I would estimate its size to be slightly bigger than that of Otakon. For illustration, it took me a half-hour to browse through one-third of the floor, and I only stopped at two booths for a maximum of three minutes each.

Because Anime Expo is an industry convention (versus a “by fans for fans” convention), the dealers’ room also somewhat resembles Japanese industry conventions, such as Tokyo Game Show. A lot of booths exist just to advertise wares, such as this Astroy Boy movie booth. Still, while a small number of booths boasted walls of gigantic placards, Anime Expo’s room is littered with ordinary booths that hawk anime, manga, and cat ears.

I’m honestly not one of those junkies who stalk out the dealers’ room on the first day of the con, constantly returning to check up on discounted prices, lurking in the shadows to pounce on that ultra rare figure that I hid in the back corner to elude the price-sniffing of others. I buy a lot of my anime and manga online. In the past, I made minimal effort to visit Tokyo Kid, the anime store in Harvard Square. Usually, I know what I want, and I go online to find it cheaply.

Of course, nowadays with the price of DVDs and books on the decline (you can find videos on RightStuf.com for $10 or less, or books on Amazon for at least 25% off), dealer’s rooms are trying to keep up. On most Sundays the dealers scream at the top of their lungs to make sure every fan becomes aware of their “Buy 1 manga, get 5 free!” bargain. Still, after paying $50+ dollars for the convention (though I haven’t done that in a few years, due to panels), I honestly don’t want to waste a few hours in the dealer’s room only to realize that they don’t have what I want to read. Once in a while, I’ll find a great deal (like all twelve volumes of Tezuka’s “Phoenix” manga for $100 at Anime Boston), but otherwise, why can’t I just find things I want online? I’m not into serendipitous buying sprees after all.

At Anime Expo, I bought only one thing in the dealers’ room (besides an omiyage poster in the Artists’ Alley): a copy of Tezuka’s “Swallowing the Earth,” published recently by Digital Manga. Truthfully, I only grabbed it because I got an in-the-last-15-minutes discount of $20. Otherwise, I looked around at every booth, but bought nothing.

However, I came home with a lot of anime-related booty. The cause? Book Off.

I wrote in an article last week about my experiences at the Book Off in New York City and how it’s easy to find manga on the cheap, usually for $1 per volume. While at Anime Expo, I had the privilege of staying with the illustrious Deb Aoki, writer and reviewer of the About.com manga section. On Saturday afternoon, she drove me and a few writers over at Japanator.com to one of the Book Offs in Los Angeles. While not as large as the NY Book Off, I still picked up a number of intriguing items (all of them in Japanese).

First, I found two not-so-expensive “Groundwork of Evangelion” art books. As you can see from the scanned images, they were Volumes 2 and 3, and I’m not so sure where I should pick up Volume 1, but (again, looking at the scans) I only spent $12.50 and $15.00 respectively. Awesome! Especially when the MSRP of these two books is ¥2500 and ¥3000 (about $25 and $30, though these would easily sell in the dealer’s room for $45+). The books are practically new — only the edges are slightly rough — and the images inside (all production sketches with a few color illustrations in the front) will make any Eva fanboy cream his pants.

The rest of the books I picked up were only $1 each. Pretty awesome finds.

First, I picked up some manga. As I mentioned in that previous article, buying manga at Book Off is a bit difficult, not only because it’s hard to find the comics by their publisher, but also if you haven’t done any research into the comics, you’re not necessarily sure with what reading level you’re challenging yourself. However, browsing through the titles, I happened upon School Rumble, a series that I’ve never read or seen, but one that has been constantly pimped to me by a number of reliable friends. After examining the content, I decided to pick up the first four volumes (there were about a dozen there, but #5 was missing).

Next, hidden among the art book section, I found Katsuhiro Otomo’s early works Anthology. The 250-page, large-size book features about a half-dozen of Otomo’s shorter stories that were never published in English (and, according to Deb, never will be, because Otomo doesn’t like his works localized, apparently). The art is amazing, and while I’ve been looking for good copies of the English translations of the Akira manga for months, it’s certainly a nice supplement.

Finally, also among the art books, I found this $1 piece of curated information on the history and development of anime in Japan. The title reads, “The New Conquering the World Japanese Culture: Japan’s Anime.” This is pretty much the book that needs to be published in America, because it’s a really interesting primer (with hundreds of large, color images!) for any type of anime fan that doesn’t know the basic history of Japanese animation. The text covers a lot of the major players, including Miyazaki, Tezuka, Otomo, Oshii, and Anno, and also provides good context for the commercial markets of kids’ anime and toys. One chapter focuses dually on the evolution of robots and cute girls in anime. The section that convinced me to purchase the book (besides the $1 price tag), though, was the end of the compilation, which provides a lot of information on the history of anime from 1917 to 2003 (the publication date), the digital creation of anime, and particularly the relationship between anime and the television studios that produced them. The last few pages present a nice timeline of anime on television starting with Astro Boy in 1963. The opportunity to look at anime history graphically really hits home the fact that, OMG, there’s a lot of anime out there.

If I have the time in the near future, I’m going to upload a LOT of scans from this book and attempt to translate what I can.

In total, I spent less than $40 at Book Off. Of course, you need to know Japanese to purchase these and actually comprehend them, but still… $40 for 5 volumes of manga and 3 rather impressive texts. And so I return to the thought imposed on the beginning of this article: Is there a future for anime and manga in convention dealers’ rooms? Basically, the answer will always be Yes. But it may be true that the stronghold that dealers’ rooms had on fans in conventions from the 1990s has almost certainly weakened today. Some of this might be attributed to fans not purchasing series after they watch fansubs or read scanlations, but also, with Netflix, Amazon, and other cheap alternatives, fans can own media for much less than in the past. No wonder the American industry is slipping. And with streaming websites that provide free episodes to fans online… Really, how many fans are going to buy the DVDs after they watch it once? Perhaps the real question might be: What kind of value are fans assigning to the media the consume? Where does the line of rewatchability exist for modern anime fans that do not possess knowledge of “anime greats,” like Oshii and Kon, like Anno and Ishiguro? And what might the breakdown be between the consumption of anime and manga versus other things, like cat ears, figurines, and other merchandise being sold in modern exhibition halls?

I’ve had this short interview with Shoko Nakagawa at Anime Expo 2008 from Anime Genesis in my Firefox tab queue for a number of weeks, but I finally got around to clicking play this evening.

If Japanese otaku fandom is a bit under the radar for you, Nakagawa-san’s name has garnered a lot of attention in the past couple years. Besides obviously singing the intro theme to Gainax’s Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann, “Shokotan” (as many fans call her) is notorious for calling herself an otaku (or, well, “not really”). Whether or not she cares about authenticity, she runs a blog on which she at least sometimes posts about otakudom. Patrick Macias wrote up an article about her for the Japan Times at the beginning of this year if you’re interested in reading that here.

The blog must be mentioned, since it caused a stir on 2channel, but particularly because in the Anime Genesis interview above, she draws a connection between blogging, the Japanese otaku community, and the contemporary reception of otaku in Japan. If you were too lazy to watch, the translation reads, “Times have changed and the otaku culture is certainly more accepted in Japan right now, because everyone blogs and there are community sites where you can share your interests with other people.” I’m not so certain if the public sentiment toward otaku has improved because of blogging. But it seems that Nakagawa-san suggests at minimum a stronger, maybe even reestablished, sense of community among otaku in Japan, certainly post-Miyazaki. Obviously there’s been a huge cultural shift in otaku habits to the Internet, particularly at 2channel. However, I can’t really judge the relative impact of the Internet on Japanese fandom, mainly due to the dichotomy between blogging and general Internet communities and where 1) discussion, 2) critique, and 3) socializing occurs.

The Internet has also visibly helped out the American fandom in solidifying regional bases and connecting fans on a wider scale across the nation (which of course is much larger than Japan). But my thought is whether the American fandom needs anime bloggers. Japan for the most part lacks any events similar to American anime conventions, so I can understand how blogs have aided in the dissemination of ideas for otaku. However, anime conventions in the United States were created for the explicit purpose of connecting fans to watch and discuss Japanese animation. As a lot of the fandom established headquarters on the Internet, we saw the convention circuit explode with new faces and names, as staff circles could be more easily formed and marketing of events more easily announced. But what has blogging as a medium done for the American fandom?

First, I must distinguish between the mediums over which fans communicate. Basically, there exist forums and blogs, which serve different purposes: the former to foster discussion, the latter stimulate long-form writing. In theory, blogging would have replaced fanzine articles. But I’m not so sure that it has. In my limited experience of looking at anime blogs, I see more articles relates to episode-centric impressions than anything else, but how many times does this observation have to be repeated?

One thing we certainly don’t see much of anymore is fansites. The fall of Geocities possibly heralds the end of that form of fan-propelled curation of information. But with free services like blogs replacing services like web hosting, we won’t see much more of the intense excavation of series as we did with fansites, on which the creators wrote as much as possible about one (or more) series. The modern equivalent of this is Wikipedia, which I suppose might make fansites pointless.

But if blogs aren’t going to connect fans to information, or at least critique, then I’m not so sure that blogs matter in the long run to the anime fandom. Or is it really that communication as a fan activity has decreased as well? It seems at modern conventions we see a minority of discussion about anime, with more focus spent on masquerades or what have you (this observation has also been beaten into the ground). But if panels are the only surviving artifact of fans sitting in a room talking about anime, then perhaps the fandom is slowly breaking apart, returning to a bunch of people in the same country watching the same shows. At the same time, though, American fandom hasn’t suffered from the social affects (ie., 義理) as has the Japanese fandom (here I blatantly mean the repercussions of Miyazaki in 1989). Then there’s also the question of how many fans actually use blogs or read them at all.

Not many is my assumption.