A New Perspective on Viral Videos: FCKH8

How does your video spread around the internet? Do people talk about it? Do they share links via email? Do they post it on Facebook? Or…

Do they upload it?


Are you one of those fuckwads who has a fucking problem with my gay son getting married?

FCKH8.com is a new initiative by non-profit media campaigner Luke Montgomery in support of LGBT issues. The website gives a big, ol’ Fuck You to the haters of gay marriage and the proponents of denying gay couples benefits like health insurance.

I came across FCKH8 because a gay friend from high school had posted the video to his Facebook wall, and it had turned up in my newsfeed. The bright pink background caught my eye, and the “You will be offended.” tagline inspired the final clickthrough.

Although the embed contains enough expletives to ward off some viewers, especially if they’re viewing in their workplace, it’s a professionally produced video: great aesthetic quality, good caliber of sound, and an energetic cast that gets the point of “screwing hate” across strongly and proudly.

And the marketing has done pretty well so far. Spanning across all of the major sharing sites — Facebook, Twitter, and StumbleUpon — the pink FCKH8 message has already as of yesterday raised close to $30,000 selling T-shirts and other schwag.

But the most interesting part of the FCKH8 campaign is the video strategy. And this strategy is bringing a whole new perspective to how we think about virality, spreadability, whatever you want to call it.

The FCKH8 channel hosts two official videos on their YouTube channel: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1amIrR-VMAI (“NSFW”) and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVwLaOtOlQ8 (censored).

However, yesterday, the FCKH8 Twitter account announced that the video had been flagged for removal: “YOUTUBE CENSORS: H8ers campaigned to flag R main video. Uploaded again! Share the FCK out of it!,” seemingly by anti-GLBT protestors.

The interesting note to be made about this message, though, is that “Share the FCK out of it” meant more than just “Share the video, embed it, send the link to your friends, etc.” Instead, dozens of users were inspired and allowed to reupload the original FCKH8 video on their own YouTube channels. Searching “FCKH8″ on YouTube yields “96″ videos, most of which are the original with its iconic hot pink background, with a sprinkling of other response and support vids.


To which I have to say… Fuck. Yes.

When we think about online video strategy by brands, entertainment companies, and producers, we tend to focus on two elements:

1. A piece of media uploaded in lieu of the copyright holders is considered by them, and then — given a positive reception of the illegal uploading — allowed to remain online, an existence from which the copyright holders can reap additional monetary benefits (usually in the form of ads).

2. A piece of media is intended to be spread by users, moving from the “influentials” to their followers and hopefully spreading amongst diverse communities. But this usually includes spreading one piece of media through multiple groups. If there are multiple pieces of media to be spread, companies tend to follow some sort of “transmedia” initiative, where the brand or media is adapted — or sometimes just copied without any change — to other media forms (such as from TV to film to webisode, etc.).

But with this FCKH8 case study, I believe it’s one of the first times when an initiative to spread has allowed users to copy the original media and subsequently spread it, be in via the same or entirely new communities and networks. If we think in terms of the current discourse on piracy, this is astounding.

What makes this case study doubly interesting is that we’re talking about collaborative disruption. Although this initiative is small (less than 100 videos), they are in practice bombing YouTube with repetitive information. Yes, it’s in the face of censorship — although it appears that YouTube has collaborated with the videomakers to reupload the original video after it was flagged for removal. And we can’t necessarily call it “bombing,” because all of the videos either have the same title or append a [MIRROR] tag to the video. In other words, it wouldn’t be difficult for YouTube to suppress the collective action.

But we can compare this to the DDoSing recently by 4chan against the MPAA and other anti-piracy websites or even Justin Bieber fans taking over Twitter’s trending topics (and Bieber’s subsequent complaint about the removal of his fans’ signs of devotion).

Of course, the benefit of FCKH8′s grassroots mass uploading is the eventual spread of a meaningful human rights campaign. Go check out the video, and share it with your friends!

The Creativity of the Auteur v. The Creativity of the Innovator: Rebuild of Evangelion

In my last article (Anno as Auteur: Researching Anime Research), I positioned Hideaki Anno (director of Neon Genesis Evangelion, Kare Kano, etc.) as an auteur. That is, a director whose creative power exceeds the studio system (ie., multiple creative artists laboring on the same work) to form a unified vision that provides the director with a particular style.

Some of my current academic work revolves around analyzing the Evangelion works as a transmedia franchise, particularly in how fans approach consumption and understand of the entire, vast narrative. I question in particular the reception of the four new Evangelion movies. Since they are not remakes of the Evangelion television series and instead are new visualizations of the Evangelion story, these films appeal to two sorts of fans: the viewers that grew up watching the television series, and a new set of fans that are understanding the Evangelion narrative for the first time. The interrelationship between these two sets of fans — particularly because they are divided by generation on top of consumptive experience — poses loads of new questions and problems about how audiences consume transmedia*.

* For example, one set of related comments voiced by fans after having watched the first film focus on how the film is “a remake of the first six episodes of the television series.” This, however, is untrue, as the film disregards most of Shinji’s emotional trauma. But I’ll break down my thoughts on this topic soon in another article…

If you have yet to see the films, I suggest watching these trailers to start:


Evangelion 1.0: You Are [Not] Alone, trailer


Evangelion 2.0: You Can [Not] Advance, trailer

These four films, two of which of course have already been released in Japan, are also a good chance to analyze the idea of auteurism in particular application to Japanese animation. As I said in my last article, a number of visual elements and styles present in Anno’s Kare Kano resemble those of Evangelion. For example, take a look at the following clip from the 22nd episode of Evangelion, in which an angel “literally” rapes Asuka’s mind.


Neon Genesis Evangelion, episode 22
Watch from 6:09, or click here for a direct link to that time. Watch it until about 7:00.

The quick cuts and flashing words are typical in Evangelion, particularly in times of emotional stress. The style of this scene is even implied in the opening credits sequence to the television series:


Watch it in full, or skip to 1:06.

Similar to the clip of Asuka above, at these points of visual characterization of emotion, comparable visual elements appear in Kare Kano:


Kare Kano, episode 4
Watch from 1:35, or click here for a direct link to that time. Watch it until 2:50.

A similar thematic element is Anno’s placement of locative and geographical frames over dialogue. For example, check out this short clip:


Kare Kano, episode 4
Watch from 3:46, or click here for a direct link to that time. Watch it until 3:58.

From this clip, as well as the previous ones with words, the visual elements are meant to cue metaphoric connections in the viewer’s mind. It’s really that simple: the clip above shows an “under construction sign” when Yukino (the female character) questions her budding relationship with Souichirou, and then it follows with a stop sign (止まれ), signaling that she should slow down and not get ahead of herself).

We could even present a similar comparison to (auteurist director) Akiyuki Shinbou, who frequently utilizes seemingly arbitrary frames that features places and locations in his animations.

However, after watching the first two Evangelion movies, it appears that the production staff has stripped these emotional elements out of the new narrative entirely. But this should come as no surprise, as the Executive Producer, Toshimichi Outsuki has already commented on the changing face of the Evangelion project. In a NEWTYPE magazine interview (translated for Newtype USA and reproduced here), Outsuki states, “I want everyone — from hardcore fans of the original work to people who only know it because of the licensed stuff — to look at it as a standalone film series.” However, these new innovative changes come at the expense of Anno’s auteurism. The article reads, “Otsuki adds that they’re removing much of the deliberate obfuscation that made Eva infamous: “Filling works with difficult workds [sic] and concepts in order to create confusion among viewers was a good technique 12 years ago, but not anymore, and one of our primary goals for this project is to turn everyone’s expectations upside down.”

This comment is actually pretty interesting in and of itself, because I believe it says much about how Japanese viewers, and particularly otaku in the 1990s, consumed television. That techniques of “confusion” were successful might actually inform our understanding of the construction of anime narratives coming into the 2000s. For example, how does this play into the otaku fervor around The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, which was the next mega-success in the anime industry after Evangelion, but which premiered in 2006.

Continuing from that point, the article also reflects on Evangelion’s identity as a sign of the anime industry proper:

The new movies also reflect the staff’s feelings about the state of the anime industry. It’s even suggested that this project is a rejection of current anime production philosophy. “It’s true that Eva was a huge hit,” Otsuki says. “But its success spawned a great deal of confusion and misunderstanding in the in the industry, the end result being a bunch of mass-produced junk. That mindset has persisted for ten years, but now we’re in a position to prove it wrong. We’re determined to close the door on the post-Eva era for good.

I find it incessantly interesting that we can define an era of fan activity and industry production by the effects on one Japanese animation.

Preparing Thoughts on Evangelion and Media Fandoms

After spending most of Thanksgiving working on PhD applications (though I still have a couple deadlines left), I’m back to work at the Consortium and ready to blog it up over here at the Department of Alchemy. Alongside all of these applications, it’s time to begin preparing other applications and abstracts for next year’s academic conferences and fan conventions. Last year, I had an excellent time traveling down to New Orleans for the Popular Culture Association national conference, where I spoke about the discourse surrounding otaku identity. This year, the PCA conference is being hosted in St. Louis, MO, but it’s also sandwiched between PAX East and Anime Boston. Regardless of whether or not I can attend in the spring, I submitted the below proposal to the Asian Popular Culture track, which was readily accepted. If I attend in person or if I Skype in to the panel, I’ll be relating most of my secondary research from the Consortium on transmedia and fandom to the Evangelion franchise in Japan and America.

From Narrative to Character: Transmedia, Emotional Economies, and the Success of Neon Genesis Evangelion

Hideaki Anno and Studio Gainax’s “Neon Genesis Evangelion” has been heralded as one of the most influential Japanese animations in the history of the medium. Met with wild success among Japanese otaku after its premiere in 1995/96, Evangelion strangely also became a media phenomenon among the general public, particularly following Eiji Otsuka’s criticism of the series in the Mainichi Daily News.

Even after the series ended in 1996, Neon Genesis Evangelion continued to remain a key franchise in the otaku community. Beginning with toys and video games and branching out to pachinko machines and cell phones, Evangelion’s narrative extends well beyond Anno’s original “text.” However, it is in these extensions where Evangelion’s success emerges.

This paper argues that the emotional economies present between fans, narrative, and character drive Neon Genesis Evangelion’s transmedia success. The emotional connection that fans establish between the original story and the stories they create fuel this fan-produced narrative that underlies cosplay, galge (female character-driven video games), and the moé phenomenon.

This paper also explores questions posed by the most recent developments in the Evangelion franchise: the quartet of movies (of which Evangelion 1.0 and 2.0 have already premiered in Japan). Although these movies are clearly an adaptation of the original narrative, they also represent an instance of transmedia storytelling that provides new perspectives to a previously-built world. How does this conflict between adaptation and transmedia storytelling affect the comprehension of the Evangelion narrative for a new generation of fans? Is the emotional economy regenerated or merely prolonged? And how can we better understand the relationship between fans and media by examining the Evangelion franchise as in evolves before our eyes?