Anime Impact. Chris Stuckmann
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and the gang are casually driving in the Mystery Machine—that flowery blue-green product of the late ’60s—while a calming voiceover soothes us. They seem at peace … but not for long. A shiny, intimidating car slams into the van, knocking the Scooby Gang off course. It’s white. There’s a sleek red “M” on the hood. It’s the Mach 5.
The theme song for Speed Racer unexpectedly bursts forth, and the young racer, Speed—known as Gō Mifune in Japan—nods at the Scooby Gang as they fly off a cliff and explode.
***
This is my earliest memory of Speed Racer, which was airing in the afternoon on Cartoon Network. I was in elementary school at the time, and yet still recall being immediately taken by the catchy theme song, and of course, the badass Mach 5.
That sequence with Scooby and Speed ends with him staring into the camera saying “Dogs should not drive,” as the Mystery Machine lays in a pile of rubble. Naturally, as an action-hungry young kid, I was intrigued. Of course, that was just one of many special intros made for the series, editing multiple cartoons together to help promote Speed Racer. All these years later, it serves as a striking metaphor.
This intro must’ve aired sometime between 1996 and 1997 when Cartoon Network was experiencing a shift. And if Cartoon Network was changing, that must’ve meant adolescents of the era were also. Back then, the station was dominated by Hanna-Barbera cartoons like The Jetsons, The Flintstones, and Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! But just as Bob Dylan prophetically stated, times they are a-changin’, and Cartoon Network was about to introduce a new generation to the life-changing block of anime entertainment: Toonami. How fitting then, that an anime legend like Speed would literally force the Scooby Gang—a well-known American animated staple—off the road.
While Speed Racer didn’t air on Toonami, this curious anime fan can only speculate on the intentions of Cartoon Network’s programmers. Were they testing the grounds by airing Speed Racer? Rather than performing a full cannonball into the water with Toonami, they dipped a toe in first. Who knows? Whatever the reason, that elementary-schooler was enraptured by the cars, the white-knuckle races, the music, and yes … that dub. I still have fond memories of sitting down after school with my sister, crying with laughter while imitating the voice-work. Speed wasn’t just fast on the racetrack, his sentences blurted out at velocities that’d make the Mach 5 jealous!
English dubs have evolved a lot over the years, and have since become considerably more respected. But back then, much of my anticipation for watching Speed Racer came from what new inside jokes I’d have with my sister. We’d often repeat lines to each other, likely to the confusion of our parents. Good times indeed.
Speed Racer originated in 1966 within the pages of Shōnen Book, a manga publication specializing in stories for boys. It goes without saying that the manga was popular enough to spawn a fifty-two-episode anime, which is often credited as one of the most influential titles ever made.
From a story perspective, Speed Racer isn’t especially unique. Most episodes deal with Speed and his friends embroiled in an intense race or foiling some evil scheme. The overarching backstory surrounding Speed and his brother Rex, however, is surprisingly gripping. Rex disappeared years ago, much to the dismay of Speed and his family. Despite the corny trappings of the show, the way Speed’s past combines with his current predicaments is actually very satisfying.
The success of Speed Racer was essential to the eventual acceptance of anime here in the States. While it’s certainly never been as popular as titles like Dragon Ball Z or Pokémon, Speed Racer carved out a place in the hearts of many impressionable youngsters. For some, it was their first exposure to Japanese animation, and while it was unfortunately Americanized and altered in many ways, the simple fact that anime was airing on American television was monumental.
If you want progress, it’s important to develop a “take-it-or-leave-it” mentality. Throughout this book, you’ll hear many writers discuss the gradual inclusion of anime in the American landscape, and you’ll read stories of their specific viewpoints of this movement. Today, we have things like Crunchyroll (a video streaming service specializing in anime), and companies like FUNimation, Sentai Filmworks, or Discotek—all doing their part to get anime delivered to our living room. But to get here, we had to make sacrifices. Sometimes that meant a horrific English dub. Other times it was drastically altered storylines. Maybe whole episodes of your favorite show weren’t even aired because of some minor offensive content.
The point is, change goes about its sweet, leisurely time. You either take it, or leave it. I didn’t realize then, but looking back to the ’90s, a show like Speed Racer airing during the “prime-kid-hours” of the afternoon was huge. They took a chance, and it paid off. The show found a new resurgence of fans, and it entered into the holy realm of animated legends occupied by the likes of Looney Tunes or Peanuts. My parents—non-anime fans—know who Speed Racer is, and not just because my sister and I annoyed them over the dinner table quoting lines. He’s a household name. An anime from 1967 is a household name in 2018.
Progress can be molasses-slow, but thanks to shows like Speed Racer, the anime scene in America only increased exponentially soon after. Looking back, the Mach 5 ramming the Mystery Machine off the highway was a fitting image for the ’90s, and it signaled the coming era of widespread anime popularity.
“Here he comes,” indeed.
Kanashimi no Beradonna
— Bennett White —
The important figures of anime’s history are overshadowed by the towering visage of one man: Osamu Tezuka. Earning the nickname “The Godfather of Manga,” Tezuka penned over seven hundred individual titles, indelibly linking himself to the very art form. His art would go on to a second life in the world of animation, where the common elements of his style would be the genesis of the “anime aesthetic” (e.g., large eyes, triangular mouths, budget-conscious animation). His 1963 directorial adaptation of his own Astro Boy manga was the realization of his then life’s work, forever cementing his legacy as the Walt Disney of Japan.
Always a man of incredible work ethic, Tezuka further pushed the boundaries of not only anime style but how anime was made. His own studio, Mushi Production, had branched out from the waters of traditional, wholesome anime television shows—like Tezuka’s own Kimba The White Lion (1965–1967), and into experimental, decidedly adult animated movies. In this spirit, Tezuka and his longtime collaborator, writer/director Eiichi Yamamoto, created a trilogy of erotic animated movies dubbed Animerama. While these three films were thematically related, each kept to their own story: A Thousand and One Nights, Cleopatra, and Belladonna of Sadness.
By 1968, Tezuka had stepped down from his role in Mushi, going back to focus on his manga work. But, his contributions to Belladonna were still felt, even when his pre-production input went uncredited. In his stead, Yamamoto took the directorial reigns, leading Belladonna in a remarkably different direction than its other two lighthearted sister films. Belladonna is an all-out assault on the senses; an emotional gut-check of a movie that pulls nothing back in its depictions of sexual violence. This film is not for everyone.
Loosely based on Satanism and Witchcraft, a largely debunked French historical fiction published in 1862, Belladonna is the story of Jean and Jeanne, a peasant couple in rural France in the Middle Ages. Their lives and livelihoods are under constant threat by the tyrannical Baron and Baroness of their village, who have taxed them and the other villagers into desperate poverty. As such, on the day of their wedding, when Jean is unable to pay, the fee is collected when Jeanne is brutally gang-raped under order of the Baroness. Jeanne is left in a crying, traumatized heap.
Her sorrow attracts the attention of a phallus-shaped Devil, who entices her with promises of power. Hesitant though she is, Jeanne slowly grows trusting of the spirit, who guides her and Jean down a path of relative luxury and influence. While Jean is designated a villain by becoming the village’s taxman, Jeanne uses her newfound feminine wiles to become the money-lender that fuels the Baron’s wartime kingdom.