Maybe I really am disgruntled and jaded after all.
This essay may be a downer. In fact, I know it is. At a time when everyone and his mother are giddily gazing towards the millennium with goggle-eyed optimism, here I sit at my word processor complaining about trends I see. Those of you who insist on trotting out Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol each year around this time may insist on casting me as Ebenezzer Scrooge. Naturally, I’d prefer to be cast as Scrooge McDuck. The 1990s have been a good decade for animation, perhaps the best decade since the 1940s, but they ended poorly. If pointing this out makes me a Scrooge, well, pass the spectacles and spats.
There were times this year when I wondered if I should find a new hobby. 1999 didn’t contain nearly as much new quality animation as 1998. Aside from the English version of Mononoke Hime (which qualifies more as a reissue), none of the major film releases seemed particularly gripping. And, with the exception of some episodes of the Lodoss Wars TV series, I wasn’t particularly impressed with any of the new Japanese animation either. None of the regular American animated TV series maintained my interest. In short, the animation of 1999 left me indifferent.
I was, however, saddened by a handful of events that affected animation fandom. The first - although not the worst - was the closing of Animation Nerd’s Paradise. This was one of my favorite websites and one of the inspirations for my own web page. Michelle Kleine-Hass, the Nerd’s maintainer, was even kind enough to e-mail me some words of encouragement early on. I didn’t always agree with the opinions on the page, but I always found it informative, entertaining and intelligently opinionated. The Internet is a poorer place without it, even if fandom still benefits from Michelle’s writing in various fan magazines.
Without a doubt, the most nauseating event of this year was Pokemon.
Pikachu and her buddies are a major hit among schoolchildren, unfortunately. Pokemon inspired a marketing frenzy that fed upon a child’s irrational desire to own anything and everything "collectable." I don’t like seeing children gamble for cards, and I don’t like hearing about children stealing cards, either. I never liked the gross, disgusting, bloated merchandising campaigns of the Star Wars or Jurassic Park variety, and I like them even less when their targets are children barely old enough to walk themselves to school. Pokemon merchandising makes even Disney look tasteful by comparison. When the show was new to the States, there was little in the way of memorabilia, and the "Pokerap" seemed like a fun rhyming game for kids. Sadly, Pokemon has inspired children to emulate the worst aspects of adult fandom.
That, perhaps, is why I am so disgruntled and jaded tonight. I’m disgusted to see children taught to behave this way. An adult, at least, has had a minimum of twenty years experience before he decides to hide inside an autistic wonderland. The Pokemon phenomenon does nothing but train children to imitate the more obsessive and disturbing traits of the North American Fanboy.
Sure, it’s fun having souvenirs from your favorite TV show or movie. There comes a point when collecting trinkets becomes an obsession, however, and it’s too easy to become enthralled with overpriced plastic junk. I could pull a page from Andy Warhol’s life and claim that any man-made object qualifies as art, but that begs the question. There’s a cultural tackiness to those who would turn their homes into the anime equivalent of The Hard Rock Café, and digging deeper I see the same desperate loneliness that drives Elvis fans to Graceland as though it were a pilgrimage. There have been times when I’ve wondered if Thomas Reed is right about anime fandom in general – and those of you who know me know how seldom I agree with any of Reed’s writing.
I’ve looked at some long-time fans that I know and, frankly, I am scared. Going to conventions can be fun (I’ve gone that route) but there are limits to that fun. It’s fun to participate in a costume contest, but that fun is ruined when you’ve spent weeks checking every minor detail of a costume based on an obscure supporting character from a TV series yet to be legally released. Compulsively attending online auctions and going without lunch for a week to purchase an animation cel are not healthy behaviors. You shouldn’t need to get a second job to finance your hobby, and you should never use your hobby as a surrogate for a relationship. There are people that I know – people that I care deeply for – and I am afraid for them.
I’ll repeat that. There are people that I know – people that I care deeply for – and I am afraid for them. I hope you’ve read that.
I know that Real Life is hard. Fairness is rarely found (at least where I come from), and too often people will let you down. You will be lied to. You will be manipulated. You will be under appreciated. You will be passed over for promotions. You will find that some friendships weren’t as strong as you thought. Your families will not accept your lifestyle choices. You may even find that your love is unrequited or, worse, that it has died out. I know too well the temptation to slip away from it all, to find a release that turns into an escape, to find a non-narcotic drug that never enters your bloodstream. Most animation is openly escapist anyway, and I can see the appeal of hiding in a world with talking animals and time machines, where schoolgirls are reincarnated princesses and shy young men overcome impossible odds to win true love.
I also know that the best way to deal with your problems is by solving them, and this is a lesson you’ll never learn if all you want to do is complete your collection of Pokemon cards.
Merry Christmas, readers. I hope that 2000 is a better year for our hobby.
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