You could describe our passage through life as an accumulation of regrets, of opportunities missed and promising roads not traveled. We rise through youth bearing dreams of becoming astronauts or rock stars, or at the very least not disappointing our parents; we ultimately settle for smaller victories, savoring financial independence or whatever slice of happiness we can find. We compromise and forgive and compromise again, as the once-open canvas of life is weighed down by responsibilities and disappointments, a thousand thousand doors closed forever behind us. And slowly, what once seemed like active choices become the terms of your imprisonment, the endless cycles that define your journey from unhappy adulthood to the grave.
Category Archives: Essay
Witch Hat Atelier and the Confidence of Youth
We find Qifrey bound in herbs as we return to Witch Hat Atelier, ensconced in the tools of his trade on the title page. He is at peace, and why wouldn’t he be? Though we often see practice as an imposition or chore, it is the only route through which we can achieve mastery, and mastery is the font of confidence, self-knowledge, and self-determination. In this world where our efforts are so often abstracted from our results, where the interconnected complexity of modern society robs us of tangible accomplishments, the mastery of a craft is a route back to an honest, immediate connection with the world. What’s more, it is like the cradle in which Qifrey is suspended – it provides us shelter and security made of our own hands, the skills that no changes in external fortune can steal from us. When we have nothing else, we still have all that we’ve learned – through practice and mastery, we make a hearth of our hearts, a smith of our hands, a library of our minds, and an atelier of our bodies, our burnished instruments working in marvelous unison.
Fragments of Romance: In the Mood for Love
“I keep what I can of you; split-second glimpses and snapshots and sounds.”
– The National
In the Mood for Love begins with a title card, a tidy explanation of the drama to come. “It is a restless moment,” the film informs us. “She has kept her head lowered to give him a chance to come closer. But he could not, for lack of courage. She turns and walks away.”
It is an odd description of a film narrative, odder still in its inclusion before the film it describes. The words seem to describe a slight, likely inconsequential interaction, a momentary meeting of two bodies in transit. And indeed, attempting to describe the overt drama of In the Mood for Love almost necessarily results in such a dismissive summary, for the film is largely about things that almost happen, futures that might have been. In the Mood for Love is a film of lingering feelings hanging in narrow hallways, of dreams unspoken until their hope of fulfillment has long passed, of words that flash in the eyes but never pass the lips. It is precisely measured in its form, achingly romantic in its substance, and ultimately ephemeral in its passage. It is the essence of love unfulfilled.
The Leaf and the Giant: The Astonishing Animation of Akihiro Ota
So, goddamn Wano, huh? It turns out I caught up on One Piece at an exceptionally good time. Over the past several years, the team at Toei have endeavored to make One Piece’s latest arc a landmark in the genre, a towering feat of animation offering film-tier feats of fluidity and scale on a nearly weekly basis. From the moment the Straw Hat crew set foot on Wano’s long-awaited shores, it was clear something was different; the arc immediately dispensed with One Piece’s traditionally thin linework and limited shading, offering instead bold splashes of ink and color emulating audacious works of traditional calligraphy. Yet at the same time, one of my favorite things about Wano is how loosely it treats its new art design mandate; its aesthetic is a suggestion, not a demand, and individual animators frequently stray far beyond the models and linework of Wano’s standard mode.
Misadventures in Dungeons & Dragons: Part Two
Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m still in the process of unpacking the diverse refuse of my life into my new apartment, and thereby admiring the mix of grids, maps, borrowed miniatures, plastic dinosaurs, and legos with which I’ve been furnishing my playing party’s D&D campaign. That in turn got me thinking back to how all this nonsense began, with a handful of sample quests and vague aspirations of some eventual regional conflict. I wouldn’t be able to sustain my writing output this long if I weren’t translating my every idle thought into Content, so I guess what I’m saying is to take a seat folks, as we once again delve into the triumphs and tribulations of my dubious dungeon mastering!
Humans, Devils, and Chainsaw Man
What is it that separates Chainsaw Man’s fiends and devils from its human characters? Figures on each side of this divide seek glory and happiness, mourn their loved ones, and employ devilish, supernatural powers in the pursuit of their desires. It is no wonder that Denji sees this distinction as arbitrary; all that this hierarchy has ever provided him is an assurance of injustice and suffering, as he is punished for factors entirely outside his control. And though Aki might claim humanity is some quality intrinsic in certain beings, the only significant difference between him and Denji is likely their personal comportment, the sense of dignity and pride with which Aki carries himself.
Planetes and the Night Sky
Throughout the course of Planetes, Hachimaki and his companions have pursued a variety of paths to find meaning and purpose in the face of oblivion. The simultaneous grandeur and mundanity of their labor has framed this task in sharper terms than for most; collecting garbage while spotlit against the infinite nothingness of space, it becomes hard to forget your own ultimate irrelevance. You are a speck in a universe that cares nothing for you, that cannot even recognize your presence within its all-enveloping emptiness. Against this backdrop of existential insignificance, they pick up trash and put it somewhere else, certain only that their labors will never end so long as human ambition endures. They are as ants scurrying between the footsteps of gods, but unlike ants, they are burdened with the capacity to desire meaning, purpose, and love.
The Liberation of Study in Witch Hat Atelier
With every return to Witch Hat Atelier, it is a rush and a comfort to again be guided by Kamome Shirahama’s skillful hands, her ability to lead the eye across visual compositions with such grace that the trick becomes invisible, only noticed by those who spend too much time thinking about things like panel blocking and negative space. As the apprentice witch Agate steps up to a bluff’s edge and then leaps off, briefly falling and then soaring into the distance, the effect provoked by each carefully chosen shape offers guidance for visually navigating this experience: the triangle of the bluff in the first panel leading the eye up towards Agate’s shock of dark hair, the way that curving bluff and Agate’s arched form guide us up, over, and down through the following two panels, the effortless way geography and panel lines combine to show motion across stable, inviting landscapes.
Gulliver’s Travels Beyond the Moon
Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m delighted to be returning to the early films of Toei Doga, as we explore their adaptation of Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. Released two years after the beautiful landmark that was The Little Prince and the Eight-Headed Dragon, Gulliver echoes the transition in art design philosophy that was initiated by Little Prince, though it pulls back somewhat from the clean geometric designs and impressionist background art of its predecessor.
Toei Doga’s artists were stretched thin across multiple productions throughout this era, so it’s little surprise that there’s a touch less continuity or artistic evolution than you’d expect across these films. Nonetheless, many of Toei’s early masters are still present on key animation, including the incomparable Yasuji Mori and the ascendant Yasuo Otsuka.
Mori has essentially been the emotional backbone of Toei’s film animation right from the start, lending an intimacy of character acting to their fantastical fables that grounds them in relatable human expressions, while Otsuka had already more than proven himself through his collaboration in animating the preposterously ambitious final battle with Little Prince’s titular dragon. Meanwhile, an ambitious young upstart named Hayao Miyazaki would here swiftly jump from in-betweening to concepting, as the relationships that would inform Takahata’s approaching Horus continued to be forged. Scanning across Gulliver’s contributors, you’ll see names that reach back to the beginning of Toei’s film animation and forward to the Masterpiece Theater works and Ghibli beyond, a human timeline of the personal bonds that made anime’s early works so magnificent, in spite of the immense responsibilities heaped on each individual artist. Let’s slot one more piece into this historical puzzle, as we explore the adventures of Gulliver and his companions!
Planetes and the Dignity of Garbage Collection
Planetes’ fourth volume begins with an accounting of our heroes’ trials, all framed in relation to the profession that once united them. Hachimaki is en route to Jupiter, “committed to never again collect garbage in space.” Tanabe is now Mrs. Hoshino, and “currently collects garbage in space.” Fee “might be sick and tired of commanding a team that collects garbage and space.” And the thoughtful, quiet Yuri seems content with his lot, and “will perhaps always collect garbage in space.”