Hellomotto on May 9, 2010 · in Yojo-han Shinwa Taikei

Summary:

Ah, movies and television. The world’s modern entertainment has certainly evolved over the past few years. More important are the actors and directors of such entertainment: many have acquired widespread fame. In this day and age, who wouldn’t want to be in Hollywood?

Such a mindset fills and pervades the head of “Watashi,” who joins the Misogi Movie Circle looking for friends and, of course, for some tail. Unfortunately for him, he can find no fair maiden, let alone any human interaction. (Wait…is it just me, or is this deja-vu?…Nah, it’s just me.) You see, the club president Jougasaki has become the all-admired dictator, and the king ain’t about to give up his throne any time soon.

And then comes the demon Ozu to the rescue. Ozu is one scary looking dude whom Watashi believes is from the dark side of the moon or some other planet besides Earth. Together, they ignore the circle and create their own movies under the expertise of Watashi. Of course, their movies are regarded as terrible, while Jougasaki continues to gain fame. Infuriated by such madness, Watashi resolves to expose his faults and secrets by secretly video-taping him.

To the dismay of Watashi, Ozu uses this time to fool around and soon loses interest. But after Jougasaki makes a fool of him and treats him like garbage, Watashi’s intentions are relived, his will reignited with the same burning passion to do what Jougasaki did to him. And so, after 3 straight days, Watashi finishes editing the film.

And boy, what a film it is. Watashi replaces half-way into the original film his own production, revealing the deep, dark secrets that Jougasaki hoped to keep quiet. As Jougasaki tries to figure out what exactly went wrong, the audience squeals and gasps to no end. Oh, the horror: who knew that Jougasaki was a breast-loving, academically-ignorant, narcissistic momma’s boy?

The most disturbing display of all, however, appears at the end. With a creepily caring voice, Jougasaki talks to his doll. This mannequin so detailed that it actually looks like a real girl look fake. And with that, Watashi and Ozu must escape the dictator’s faction to prevent from getting the guillotine.

The moment Watashi turns to leave, Akashi makes her appearance. Akashi is Watashi’s kouhai who played a significant role in creating Jougasaki’s original film. Akashi, as our narrator notes, was the only one who laughed at the poor productions of Watashi and Ozu. Even though she wasn’t quite as fond of their recent “documentary” (if you will), she offers to delay their pursuers and give them a chance to escape. Right as he turns to leave, Akashi reminds Watashi of their promise, sending Watashi into a flood of memories: he promised her that he would make a film about true love and find her fifth and final plushie toy for her. But alas, it is too late for him to take up on the offer, and he can only sit in his room and watch his self-produced third-rate film.

And so, once again, the tape must rewind itself…all the way back to the beginning.

Reaction:

In my last post (which was about two weeks ago), I talked about the non-chronological order of recounting one’s story, especially the love story. On another note, I interpreted the series as a typical romance, a series that would continue from where it left of in the end of the last episode (which is something I did not mention). Yet this series did just the opposite. The second episode started roughly similar to the first episode: the beginning of college life for our narrator, “Watashi.” Moreover, the same characters show up in nearly identical manners as the last episode, and the ending rewinds back to the start.

With such a progression, it’s no wonder why people are calling Yojo-han the next “Endless Eight.” The whole general scene seems like complete deja-vu. How this differs from the arc in the second season of The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, is the style which the director Masaki Yuasa uses. The director doesn’t bother to change the subtle, minor details; rather, Yuasa shifts the whole spectrum of focus to fit the narrative. Instead of the tennis club, it’s the film club. Instead of meeting Ozu on the tennis courts, he meets him on the production set. Instead of promising Akashi to take her to Neko Ramen, he promises her to make a movie about true love. Moreover, the director introduces Jougasaki, a character like no other before him (at least, not in the Yojo-han world) and manages to build nearly an entire episode around him.

Unlike the previous characters who have been introduced, Jougasaki is the only one that seems a little…bland. Sure, he’s got the narcissistic touch and some disturbing facts about himself; but he fails to stand out as an excellent character. Then again, this is a side character, one who probably won’t see much “screen time,” if you will. (Admittedly, his obsession with the doll was painfully funny.)

Anways, back to the “Endless Eight” discussion. While the actual plot totally changes, the themes are kept the same. Ozu remains as the typical “best friend” character while also taking on the trickster archetype (kinda like Iago from Shakespeare’s Othello, sans the severely baleful intentions). Watashi still fails to find the ideal form of love. Akashi remains cold as ever, only partially opening herself up to the narrator. And of course, there’s the theme of the Failed Attempt, an idea which I’ll go a bit more in depth in later posts.

But why have all these changes in the first place? Why does the director proceed to unfold the series in such a manner? Since there’s been only two or three episodes in the series so far, these questions remain unanswered. In expressing his thoughts in his post on the third episode, Psgels believes that the director aims at studying all types of losers–almost like the “college-life” version of Welcome to the NHK!. Indeed, Watashi has proven to be quite the loser in any college situation. To me, however, this explanation seems insufficient. If the series was really an in-depth case study like Welcome to the NHK! was, then the director would have delved deeply into the “methods of madness” used by such losers. Moreover, the actual attitude of these losers were rather superficial: Watashi simply wanted revenge, nothing more, nothing less. Compared to the dark case study of the NEET/hikkikomori/”electronic loser” category in Welcome to the NHK!, the actual time and effort spent to explore the mindset behind these losers is pale in comparison; thus, I doubt that Yuasa (who helped manage the directing effort on the excellent Kaiba) would truly mean to create the series as a case study.

If the series is not meant to explore these different kinds of losers, then we must return back to the central question: Why does the director proceed to unfold the series in such a manner? It seems too cliched and cheesy to simply cite the reason as the “inevitability of friendship and love.” (Even if it is, Yuasa seems to be able to pull it off with style.) As of right now, I have a very simple explanation for this approach. However, and this is very unprofessional of me, I’ll need to watch and analyze one more episode before I can truly decipher the meaning. For now, I leave it to the viewers to decide.

I rest my case.

Note: I apologize for the late post, which is more than a week late. APs take time; that’s all I can say. Also, I’ll try to get the third episode posted soon.