Coraline

I did try to read Neil Gaiman's Anansi Boys, but soon realized that the novel wasn't for me. I was disappointed, because I really enjoyed Gaiman's and Prachett's novel, Good Omens. But there was something about Anansi Boys that didn't click with me. It might be because I couldn't develop a fast relationship with any of the characters like I had in Good Omens. Either way, I decided to let it go. A little lost as to where to go next, I chose to watch Coraline. It not only fit the theme of “fantasy in the real world”, but it's made so beautifully, I felt like a bad animator because I hadn't seen it yet. Stop motion in general is a little creepy, to me, but this was so smooth, it reminded me of Tim Burton's Corpse Bride. Coraline as a character was a little hard to love at first. She complained all the time, which, I guess, is not unlike myself. But the fact that she bugged me is what intrigued me. It wasn't like trying to read Anansi Boys, where I was completely neutral with the characters. Coraline had invoked an emotion from me, and that in itself got me hooked within the first five minutes.

The concept behind Coraline reminds me of a game I'd play as a kid, minus the creepiness of the button eyes and the scary mother. But the fact that you could escape in your own house and create your own perfect world is something that I think all of us did at some point, just by playing house. I loved the roles all the characters filled, including the scrawny old cat, and Mr. B. These characters weren't particularly eye candy, but that repulsiveness made them all the more lovable to me because I'm such a visual person. As far as the story goes, I wonder if the creators didn't get too wrapped up in the visual element. It was fairly predictable, to be critical, but at the same time, that made it easier to follow, and let me focus in on the art.

The Hobbit

I started The Hobbit with low expectations, which sounds like a really pessimistic thing to say, but it's true. A while ago, I had tried to just jump into the Lord of the Rings trilogy with the first book, but quickly lost interest when I realized that Tolkien's world was passing right over my head. So, when I picked up my copy of The Hobbit, I was a little nervous that I'd just be fumbling through paragraphs, skipping over important sentences that I couldn't understand, and feeling pretty pathetic because of the number of people who read this book in middle school while I still was ignorant of it. But I was pleasantly surprised that I slipped effortlessly into the first chapter. While I'm still not done with the book (because, really, it is long, and I have more work than I can handle already), I'd love to continue with it. I love the introduction into the world of Middle Earth, and I can see why so many people do as well.

Something that really gets to me is when details don't make sense, or, even worse, when they make so much sense that the novel feels more like a manual than a story. When I was really into Star Wars, I tried to read some of the novels by Timothy Zahn. I couldn't get into them, as much as I wanted to. The characters felt like they had taken a backseat to Zahn's descriptions of weapons, worlds, and technology. Tolkien made Middle Earth feel like I could step out my back door and be there in an instant. Everything in his work felt natural, and made sense without trying. That alone makes me want to keep reading.

Battle Royale

I admit that I've never had an interest for Japanese cinema, unless you count Miyazaki and Studio 4C films. But hey, I'm an animation student, give me a break. Either way, I decided to watch Battle Royale recently. It wasn't for class, but rather, I had heard good things about it and since it was right there in the library staring back at me, I thought I'd give it a try. The film as a whole was a really ambitious project, because the whole plot line revolves around killing a class. But, if that's going to phase the audience, we have to get attached to them at the same time. Getting emotionally attached to 20 or 30 kids in the span of two or two and a half hours is a daunting challenge, but I think that Battle Royale accomplished it to the best of its ability. I still admit that there were points nearing the end when I wanted everyone to just blow up so the movie would be over. It did get repetitive. On the other hand, I love how they mainly followed the story of Noriko and Shuya, because you know that only one person had to survive in the end. It made you keep watching to figure out how this couple that you had grown to love was going to either be split, or keep going. Either way, they'd never be the same after the competition. But that's probably just the theme of J-Horror showing: no hope.

After a bit of research, I saw a response to this movie that said that Fukasaku was making fun of the old Japanese war propaganda films. I hadn't thought about this before, but it's true. In fact, just last week I was learning about the cartoons made in Japan during World War II, and I now notice a few similarities between the two. In Battle Royale, there is a scene where a girl meant to resemble some sort of teenage icon stars in a video that tells the students that they'll be killing each other. She talks in a falsely happy voice, laughs, and wears a skimpy uniform. The sickening subject is made worse by the fact that she's just a robot, in a way: relaying information as blandly as if it were the day's lunch menu. In the Japanese wartime cartoons, fairy tales and age-old myths are twisted and bent into tools used by the military to assure the people of Japan that they are doing what's right.