The Balancing Act of Being Critical: Part 1 – Passions are Personal

Over the past couple of months I’ve had a lot of time to think about how I approach my writing and reviewing, and the things that go into crafting a well-written critique that has value to others. I think media criticism and textual analysis is interesting no matter what your chosen medium of focus is, but anime in particular appeals to me because I feel like there’s a lot to unpack – both regarding the material itself, as well as the ways in which the Western fandom interacts with it. As an affect of the Covid-19 lockdowns and restrictions, I’ve also had a lot more time to interact online with folks within my anime club friendship circle; as a result I’ve gotten into some interesting discussions regarding anime likes and dislikes and had the opportunity to consider some alternative viewpoints to my own. Because I’ve been hoping to write more about the more “meta” parts of anime fandom, I wanted to use this opportunity to record and ponder some of those thoughts.

I’ve been writing about anime for a long time (since early 2007 at least). While plenty of anime series have crossed my path over the years, some blazing onto the scene with a lot of fanfare before being largely forgotten and some remaining favorites of mine despite all the things I’ve experienced in the interim, one thing that’s been a constant is that anime as a medium has always had its share of controversial material. This isn’t something unique to anime; there are plenty of Western TV shows and films that push the boundaries of our collective social taboos (or just trample all over what I’d define as good taste). But I suspect that there are traits of anime that make these kinds of transgressions stand out to a greater degree than they might otherwise.

While the landscape has been changing rapidly in the last decade or so, for many years animation has been thought of as entertainment for children in the West. This doesn’t mean that there was a complete drought on animation marketed toward adults, but productions like that were definitely more niche as compared to the candy-colored, corny stuff that was around in the 1980’s when I was a kid. Because of this, I think a lot of folks (including myself sometimes, even to this day) have a visceral reaction toward animation that incorporates nudity and violence, or which incorporates gray-area morality or other material that doesn’t fit into neat little boxes. I’ve seen so much anime at this point that I have an easier time seeing these things as parts of a whole (though it doesn’t mean I always give them a pass to be as crass or taboo as possible for no reason), but I can understand that there are a lot of folks out there who are still a little put off by anime’s ability to be more graphic than one’s baseline expectations of a cartoon.

Because of that, I think the general public has had a certain perception of anime that’s been pervasive at least until recently. I recall many years ago my mom outright asking me if anime was just “animated porn,” and while I can laugh about it now (kinda wondering why anyone would think I’d be so outwardly passionate about any kind of pornography, let alone something with such niche appeal, but whatever), at the time it was clear to me why so many of my fellow anime fans just didn’t feel comfortable talking about their fandom around or with non-fans. It’s exhausting to repeatedly explain that, while that kind of thing definitely does exist, it doesn’t represent the fandom for most fans (the same way the existence of live-action pornography doesn’t represent or define the content of most live-action films). Because a lot of us older fans have been asked questions like that over the years I think we may have a special sensitivity to situations in which certain anime series do include sexuality, fanservice, nudity, violence, or gore – there’s an almost gut-wrenching drive to defend ourselves and our fandom from accusations of enjoying “cartoon porn;” just because something contains adult content doesn’t make it porn (and because of whatever unspoken hierarchy of entertainment exists, being labeled “pornography” is considered an insult).

These are a lot of words just to say that, while it’s unfair in many respects, there are a lot of complicated reasons why violence and sex in anime is perceived differently than it is in live action. Until it crapped the bed in the end, HBO’s Game of Thrones was by all accounts a major mainstream success; it was the type of TV series that people would talk about with their co-workers the next morning (I know this because my co-workers and I spent probably too much time and energy doing this). It was also, by my calculations, one of the most graphically-violent and sexually-explicit TV series available at that time. This didn’t prevent it from being a pop-culture touchpoint for a lot of people who didn’t previously watch other genre shows. Yet I’d be willing to bet that a good portion of Game of Thrones fans wouldn’t be comfortable watching the same material play out in an animated adaptation of the same material. It’s just where we are as a culture. It’s something that I feel sad about as a passionate anime fan, but something that I also try to understand.

As a passionate anime writer and critic, however, I find that this state of affairs makes it very difficult to be critical about some anime series (though it’s definitely not the only reason). I’ve come to accept that there are anime series I really enjoy that contain content that will be rightfully off-putting to a lot of folks (Golden Kamuy is a recent example – copious male nudity, extreme violence, general grotesque behavior, war-related PTSD, animal hunting and slaughter… it’s got it all!), and can understand criticism of them on those grounds even if the same things aren’t enough to drive me away (heck, in some cases I consider it part of their appeal). But in my experience there are many fans who take pretty reasonable criticism of series they like extremely personally, to the point that it creates a backlash. This isn’t limited to anime fandom (I will just mention Star Wars here and leave it to my readers to ponder that by themselves), but I see it a lot more frequently in anime fandom. Just speaking from my own experience, I think a lot of us come to anime fandom in our teens or early adulthood – times in which we’re developing our personalities in to the people we are to become. The anime we enjoy become our own sacred texts, of sorts; media that pinpoints the very intense, emotional transformations we are experiencing. In some cases I think it’s easier to look back on the things we watched them and identify that they had definite issues (believe me, I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for Ranma ½, but there are undeniably criticisms to be made there). In other cases, though (especially if they are fresher in our minds or so well-loved that it’s difficult to want to pick them apart), it can feel very personal when someone says “hey, that thing had some flaws, and I’m going to examine them at length now.” It can be very easy to take that as a personal affront; when you feel as though a piece of media has helped to define you as a person, a criticism of that media can feel like an attack. Add in the general perception and misunderstanding of anime as a medium as I’ve outlined above, and it’s very easy to feel as though someone is trying to take something away from you.

What originally prompted this post were some thoughts I had regarding media censorship (and since this looks like it’ll be at least a two-parter, it might be a little while until I get to my main point). Writers like me get accused of advocating censorship from time to time, because we have critical (and sometimes severely critical) things to say about anime series, some of them extremely popular. While most of the time it’s not at the forefront of my writing, my experiences as a woman in fandom and in life is often expressed through my opinions and intertwined within my writing. Unfortunately a good portion of media has a difficult time encapsulating those experiences in ways that are actually representative; many times they are actively contrary and occasionally they are outright hurtful. I try not to be shy about pointing these things out or making it clear why I’m not interested in watching them flail around further. Rather than taking this as one person’s opinion (one person of many – there are tons of other anime reviewers in the world with differing opinions), there are fans who interpret these opinions as direct assaults. And I know how they feel! I had a friend/mentor one time say something critical to my face about an anime that I absolutely adored (and still adore, more than a decade later). I was so angry and hurt that I didn’t know what to do with myself. Looking back, though, I can see that he just didn’t see the same things in it that I did, and while some nominal amount of tact and a gentler hand would have been preferred his critiques weren’t able to make the anime in question disappear from my life, or even really taint the experience of me watching it many times after that (although I’m sure I watched and enjoyed again at least once out of pure spite). In short, the “feminist killjoys” (including myself) aren’t coming for your or your anime. But we’re allowed not to like it and to point those things out. What you do with that information is a refection on the type of person you want to be and the types of interactions that you hope to have.

But, over the years, I’ve learned that there’s also value in crafting critiques that at least try to take into account the reader sitting on the other side of the screen, even if some of those same folks aren’t always willing to afford me the same courtesy. I think some of the best advice I’ve been given as a writer is to criticize the media, not the fan. Pointing out a story’s flaws, whether they be craft-related things like poor pacing or stilted dialog, or more problematic choices such as an indulgence in one of the many “isms” that serve to hurt various groups, is simply a responsibility I feel I have to people who are reading. They may not entirely agree with me, but they deserve to have the best information I can provide them. But it’s irresponsible to throw around statements like “only an idiot would watch this,” because as off-putting as I’ve found some series to be I know I have friends who have likely watched those same series and enjoyed them – see the above statements regarding myself and Golden Kamuy, if you’re looking to me to hold up a mirror to myself on this. It may be incomprehensible to think that someone with whom you share mutual respect could have such a differing opinion about the implications of some controversial content in a particular anime, but it happens. And it doesn’t make them Satan incarnate – as long as they don’t come back and tell you to “get over it.”

Criticism is a balance between truth and finesse, and it’s a balance that unfortunately we can never truly achieve in the eyes of all readers. Writing that tip-toes around in an attempt to avoid saying anything critical feels incomplete to me and I don’t believe it serves much of a purpose other than to advertise (though if you truly love the piece of media you’re talking about an really want to sing its praises to others, that type of writing serves its own purpose). Writing that does nothing but talk shit and cause controversy can feel very fun and cathartic in the moment, but in the aftermath it just feels dreadfully empty and alienating. Writing essays and reviews that reveal enough about a piece of media to be informative, and which capture its highs and lows in ways that welcome debate and discussion without starting a war, well, perhaps that’s my own “white whale.” I may never be accomplished enough to maintain that balancing act for any length of time. But one thing I do hope is to help readers recognize, and perhaps to remind myself, that passionate enjoyment of a piece of media does not somehow make it flawless, that acknowledging those flaws does not amount to censorship , and that flaws do not make something irredeemable.