Good day everyone, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I am delighted to be returning to The Woman Called Fujiko Mine, as Sayo Yamamoto and Mari Okada continue to tease unexpected and fascinating results out of their twist on the Lupin formula. Last episode saw Fujiko deftly navigate a clear analogue for the Cuban Missile Crisis, spending a little quality time with “Fiadel Kastro” before Goemon cut some missiles in half. In spite of the episode’s loaded political context, Fujiko’s emphatically apolitical perspective actually resulted in a relatively lighthearted episode, more of a vacation than a revolution.
Fujiko’s disinterest in any larger political or moral framework for her actions is one of the most interesting, revealing aspects of her character. As a thief who loves her work, she obviously has no compunction to act in ways that echo larger moral principles. But beyond that, she seems to have embraced a kind of amorality that serves as an essential defense in a hostile world. Fujiko doesn’t have the luxury of principle – the world has been against her from the start, and thus anything she wants, she has been forced to claim by whatever means are available.
Rather than seeking solidarity with fellow victims and pushing back against this unfair world, Fujiko is content to manipulate the rules as she understands them, using intractable, demeaning cultural assumptions like “feminine innocence and fragility” to mislead her opponents. It’s a savvy response to a situation that is entirely outside her control, the natural deduction of someone who knows she can only depend on herself. Fujiko didn’t choose this world, but she’s happy to exploit it, and I’m eager to see where her adventures lead her next.