The tendency for multiple frames of references can be seen, for instance, in the works of otaku-driven animation studio Gainax. Lamarre brings as examples the animated series directed by Hideaki Anno, Fushigi no Umi no Nadia or Nadia and the Secret of the Blue Water (1990-1991) and Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995). In Nadia, Anno combines references to 19th century science, 1960s-1970s mechanical designs, postwar nuclear politics, the Bible, ancient myths, human evolution, space travel, interracial and interplanetary conflicts, and even a reference to Ultraman in the origins of the Atlanteans. Then, in Evangelion, that tendency got intensified through the combination of mecha combat, battles with kaijū a la Ultraman, biotechnology, kabbalistic thought, and post-apocalyptic future, in addition to some elements that were already present in Nadia.
Now, let’s take a look at how Myriad Colors Phantom World multiplies its frames of references just like Nadia and Evangelion did. The first episode of Phantom World opened with a demonstration of optical illusions. As the illusions dehierarchized the notion of an accurate perception of images, the demonstration effectively informs that the show’s narrative structure is set with a multiplication of frames of reference. After that and as the series goes on, the show incorporates together school setting, extracurricular club activity, monster hunting, beautiful fighting girl, theories of human perception, ancient mythologies and folklore, wu xing, occult literatures, quantum physics, family drama, and some other stuffs.
Up to this point, the enjoyment of watching Phantom World can be considered akin to watching the opening animation of DAICON IV, which was made by the people who later founded Gainax. In both works, we got animated tales that are built with overflowing references, having sexy girls running around and kicking ass, and skillfully animated. Part of the enjoyment is in “getting the references,” or being able to recognize the references that are played out in the tale, along with the beautiful animation and characters. We can think of works like these as a movement to re-orient knowledge within a disorienting saturation of information; by organizing them playfully as works of fiction. Information in this sense, are played with into forms that allows for affective responses to them, and makes that affect can be shared with and among fans. This is the otaku mode of existence in the information age.
Having the myriad of narrative themes that are being meshed together in Phantom World may seems odd, as it juxtaposes together banal, ordinary life-like elements with fantastic, speculative fiction elements. Disorientations occur, as just about anything can seem to randomly happen out of the flow of ordinary life because of the power of the phantoms, such as the appearance of the hot springs on the school grounds in one episode. But the show actually manages to make the flattening of banal and fantastic elements into a fairly coherent and consistent combination. And as Lamarre suggested, in the flattening of the narrative elements, there emerges a movement into the constructions of smaller narratives that can endear the audience personally. The disintegration of grand narrative in the multiple frames of reference leads into an explosion of personal narratives.
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You always seem to go back to Lamarre for your references, but aren’t theory of narrative consumption concerning loss of grand narrative and database model of small narratives consumption originate from Eiji Otsuka and Hiroki Azuma?
Aside from that, what you wrote in this article could apply to a number of different anime. I don’t see how this is a review of Phantom World in particular. Words have meanings, and using the word review creates a certain amount of expectations (that may be different to each people). And to me that means a discussion on what makes a particular work unique or interesting. But in this review that only comes down to one sentence, “But the show actually manages to make the flattening of banal and fantastic elements into a fairly coherent and consistent combination,” that I feel does not adequately explain that. It would be different if the article was titled, for example, “Phantom World as an Example of Personal Narratives.”
Thanks for the response.
Yes, I’m aware about Otsuka and Azuma. Those were part of Lamarre’s references too. Maybe I should have mentioned that? But I don’t want the text to get too cluttered. And I also want to raise readers’ interest to read the book because it seems to be less known than Azuma’s Database Animals, despite having been published two years before the English edition of Azuma’s book. There’s also some critique to Azuma’s theory in the book, so I’ll leave it to the book to do that job.
What’s unique about the anime? I guess there aren’t anything notable, really. But does it have to be unique to be able to connect to the audience? What I intend to do is explaining why anime like this work the way they do, that there are some meaning to what they do. And those meanings emerge from the engagement between the stories and the audience’s own knowledge and experiences.
Which brings to another thing that I’ve learned from a recent training. There’s a theory in language teaching that posits that reading is not a passive activity, but rather, an active one that involves interaction between the text and the readers’ prior knowledge and experiences. Then, can we consider watching anime to be similar to that? Thus, another purpose for me to write like this is to broaden the readers’ knowledge base a bit with some readings that can help to understand why Phantom World anime can be like that, which can also be applied to a broad range of anime as well.
In the end, our chief here always stressed that the purpose of review is to help people make informed decision, rather than persuading people to watch or not watch something. I hope that what I write can help readers understand what Phantom World is actually about, what it performs, and from that, decide for themselves if they want to engage with it. And if they do, I hope this writing can provide hint on how to engage with it enjoyably.
I hope that makes things clear.
Personally I haven’t read what Lamarre said, but while mostly I approve what Halimun said in this review, I don’t think the fanservice bit is the Achilles heel for this anime. Instead, it was a part of the beautiful engineering, cleverly designed to appeal the otaku audience (Azuma with his moe-agare character design). Yet I still don’t get why some self-proclaimed otaku feel disgusted with this anime.
By reading once more of this article, I got details I missed from what I saw. Just like what Otsuka said, the example of capturing the small narratives is the art of enjoying this anime. And by giving this anime such deep exploration like this, I think it’s a nod to the many – both explicit and implicit – references to the many theories referenced here. Even more, it’s injustice if people only write this anime’s review based from their watching experiences alone.
(I’m not proficient in writing in English)