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Tuesday, September 7, 2010
In Conclusion
David ends his CWN run with Tezuka's MW from Vertical
I’m at a loss as to how to wrap up three years of these columns. Manga isn’t a subject that lends itself to closure, because it’s always changing. And crafting some kind of tidy conclusion would require that I had anything resembling a master plan at any point along the way.
All I’ve really wanted to do with Flipped is talk about manga I like and try and articulate why, and that seems like as good an approach for the last column as it was for any of the other 150 or so. How thoughtful of Vertical to plop Osamu Tezuka’s MW onto the shelves, as it’s as good a prism as any for what I love about the medium. Here are some of the things I love about manga in general and MW in particular:
It’s surprising: Tezuka is often described as Japan’s answer to Walt Disney, which implies that he’s a canny purveyor of stodgy, rather saccharine family fare. But while Disney was dedicated to producing wholesome family entertainment, Tezuka wanted to prove that comics could be for everyone. Even in his work specifically for kids, there are seeds – challenging themes and deep questions. When you get to Tezuka’s work for adults, those seeds have become a virtual forest as he tears into sex, religion, politics, media, environmentalism, and just about any other subject that crosses his mind. They’re no less humane, though, even in a melodrama as outré as MW. The cultural is fueled by the personal – lust, greed, hope, fear, ambition, faith, love… all that good stuff.
It’s fun: Deep undercurrents aside, MW is a masterfully constructed thriller. It follows two survivors of the accidental release of a chemical weapon stored on a remote island by a foreign power. The Japanese government covers up the deaths of an entire village full of people, never realizing that a young radical and the child he and his cronies had kidnapped have survived the incident. The survivors don’t get away unscathed, though. Garai, the radical, has turned to the priesthood at least partly to try and grasp the inhumanity of that event and its consequences. Yuki, the child, has grown into a beguiling bank executive and complete sociopath, and he’s devoted himself to revenge on a global scale. Yuki is a perpetual motion machine of evil, and there’s virtually no act that’s beneath him in his quest for payback. Garai knows this, but the shared experiences on the island, Garai’s priestly desire to rescue Yuki from his dark path, and his decidedly un-priestly sexual attraction to Yuki keep him from acting. If you can resist a crime-packed potboiler with secrets, lies and forbidden love, you’re a stronger person than I. (For bonus points, Tezuka stresses that the love isn’t forbidden because they’re both men, pausing to scold late-1970s Japan for its backwards attitudes on homosexuality. Their union is forbidden because one half of the pairing is a priest, and the other is catastrophically insane.)
It’s visually engaging: Is there anything Tezuka can’t draw, and draw beautifully? When you consider the range of material he’s illustrated (chipper boy robots and thrill-seeking princesses, the birth of Buddhism, a disease that turns people into dogs), you’d think that his style would fail to suit at some point. I’ve yet to see that happen, and if the man can knock gritty, pansexual MW out of the park with the same deftness he applied to the antic fancy of Princess Knight, then I’m forced to conclude that, no, there’s nothing he can’t draw.
It’s thought-provoking: During an interrogation, a prosecutor fervently suggests to Garai that “the foulest criminal is the one who witnesses wrongdoing and does nothing to stop it!” It’s fascinating to watch how many ways that sentiment manifests itself during MW. Yuki’s early victims are just such criminals, accessories to evil who sacrificed principle for personal gain, and while Yuki’s undeniably a monster, his evil is the creation of others. Garai’s tremendously uncomfortable position, fueled by faith, guilt, and shame, leads the reader to constantly wonder if he’s doing enough. Is it reasonable for him to want to save Yuki instead of just foiling him, or is it just selfish and cowardly? Tezuka was the most humane of creators, and it’s a testament to the strength of his principles that they can emerge so clearly in such a lurid piece. MW may be focused on the dark side of humanity, but it’s humanity all the same, which makes the material much more engrossing.
It’s insane: Seriousness of intent aside, Tezuka was always an entertainer, and MW sets the volume at somewhere above 11. When you think you’ve seen the depths of Yuki’s cleverness and depravity, something happens to reveal that you were perhaps a bit complacent. If I listed all of his evil deeds, you would either think that I’m kidding or that they couldn’t possibly cohere into anything but a Russ Meyer film. Admittedly, there’s nothing as overtly whacko as “the Human Tempura” from Tezuka’s Ode to Kirihito (also from Vertical), but I strongly suspect that it was only Tezuka’s skill and sensibility that kept MW from turning into hogwash painted purple. But that’s the beauty of a lot of great manga. You’ll stare at the page, eyes popping and muttering, “I cannot believe I just read that.” But you did, and it worked, and you turn the page.
There are other qualities specific to the book that I love. For $24.95, you get 582 pages of Tezuka in a handsome, hardcover package. (Chip Kidd designs many of Vertical’s manga books, and he always does beautiful work. That said MW isn’t my favorite example of Kidd’s work. It’s certainly stylish, but the packaging is almost timid when compared to the contents.)
Another is ease of acquisition. Before I really got into manga, pursuit of the comics hobby required a trip to a specialty shop, with all of the charms and challenges associated with such visits. If you’d told me then that one day I’d be able to walk into a chain bookstore and find such a book sitting out on a display table, available as anyone could ask, bitter experience would have probably led me to laugh in your face. But it was right there, and I even had a coupon.
So yes, MW seems like a fine title to go out on, with its energy and artistry and madness. It’s classic but vivid, embodying a lot of the things I love about manga presented with Tezuka’s unique genius. It affirms my belief in where the category can go as it matures.
On a personal note, I would like to thank everyone at Comic World News, especially Shawn Hoke and Michael May, for being such delightful hosts for the past three years. I like to think that I know a whole lot more about manga than I did when I signed on, and the opportunity to learn on the job has been tremendously rewarding and greatly appreciated.
And one of the really great pleasures of the Flipped experience has been talking with people who make manga and people who love it. The former is certainly a subset of the latter, which was affirmed for me every time I pester a publisher for an interview. Writing about manga is a lot of fun, but entering into a conversation about it is even better.
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April 22, 2008:
February 4, 2008:
November 20, 2006:
A Comic-Con without the Captain
