Episode 26, I’m Takeo Kumagami, of Patlabor is by far my
favorite episode so far, trumping even episode 19, Shadow in the
Geo-Front. While episode 26 is
definitely lacking visually in the first half, with rather shaky lines and
frequently off-model and inconsistent characters, this episode and the one
prior brings so much to our attention. The
character growth and progression of everyone that would easily go unnoticed
thanks to the extremely small increments they occur in being an example. K-ON progresses and develops the characters
in a similar way, very slow, small and naturally to the point that it’s nearly unnoticeable
until it’s pointed out. This is something
I would love to talk about, however, this time I’m going to examine another
part of the episode that perfectly illustrates how to write a great villain and
make us hate him/her with only the most subtle and non-extreme ways imaginable. Takeo Kumagami is by no means an evil
character, but she is the target of our ire for majority of the episode by
doing what amounts to little more than scolding a puppy. To understand how excellently executed this
is, we need to first understand the circumstances of her arrival and the
relationship of whom she’s replacing with Noa Izumi.
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Kanuka Clancy is a brilliant character who acts as the
antithesis to the only other woman in Division 2, Noa Izumi. Where Kanuka is cold, calculated and
efficient, Noa is emotional, impulsive and eccentric. Kanuka went through academics to hone her
skills and become an officer and brilliant pilot, Noa held her nose to the
grind-stone and worked job after job until she could afford the police academy
and is a naturally talented pilot. These
two embody one of my favorite themes, training vs. talent and is one of the
reasons I love mecha since it’s practically guaranteed to come up at least
once. This relationship between the two
leads to a healthy rivalry, each pushing the other to be better versions of
themselves. We see this pay off in
episode 26 when Asuma is showing Noa’s performance compared to Ohta’s; Noa has
become the more efficient of the two forwards.
This lack of efficiency was the main cause of Noa losing to Kanuka early
in the series. Outside of her rivalry
with Noa, Kanuka’s an exceptionally deep character, shown as someone who truly
loves her grandmother, someone that has strong convictions and, despite being
the most level-headed of the bunch, someone that can panic, make bad calls, and
succumb to terror. She is a strong,
competent and relatable character who leaves a massive vacuum in the show upon
leaving.
Already at Takeo’s arrival, we’re in doubt. We just lost who could very easily be
justified as someone’s favorite character.
Who can fill the shoes Kanuka left?
No one, that’s who. Fortunately
for Takeo, she brought her own pair.
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| Just a flick of the wrist |
We expect a similar relationship between her and Noa as
there was between Kanuka and Noa, however this is not the case. Where the relationship between Noa and Kanuka
was an antithetical one that lead to rivalry, Takeo is framed as simply being a
better Noa with only one major difference, which I’ll get to in a moment. Takeo immediately proves her superiority to
Noa as a policewoman by being a fast learner, great at programming, in top
physical shape and being a comparable labor pilot to Noa after only two days of
training. But that’s only the
professional side, she’s also a master of the more feminine aspects: She’s gorgeous, charismatic and a great
cook. For the first time we see Noa
compare herself to who, in our mind, is her rival and she feels inferior and
defeated. The light cast from Takeo
serves to highlight what Noa really is, a slow, labor crazed tomboy. This is not to say any of those things are
bad, where we are weak in some areas, we are strong in others. Noa is by no means a weak character, but in
this moment for the first time, we don’t see her take this inner comparison as
a challenge. Instead she takes it as a
sound defeat. This culminates in the key
difference between the two of them:
Ambition.
In the locker room, Noa innocently asks Takeo why she chose
Division 2 if she could have gone anywhere.
To which Takeo gives Noa a hard look and explains that she wants
experience, she wants to be the best and she won’t get that anywhere else. This is what really sets these two apart
because Noa had plateaued in her ambitions.
Her entire goal was to pilot an Ingram and being forced to realize that
she could be better, to have higher ambitions, destroyed her. She doesn’t take that as a challenge, she
only quietly looks down and away. At
this moment, by merely saying something that has extreme merit only more
bluntly than necessary, Takeo holds all our hate. How dare she say something so hurtful to this
poor, sweet, innocent Noa? What did Noa
ever do to deserve this treatment? She’s
happy piloting her Ingram and that’s enough for her, so it should be enough for
you. A simple act, but one that carries
so much weight that we can’t help but feel emotional over.
This brings me back to the point I was making in my previous
blog about the nuance in children’s shows versus the lack there of in adult’s
shows. There is absolutely no need to go
to an extreme such as rape or murder to make us dislike a character or
establish them as a “villain.” As I
mentioned earlier on, Takeo is not evil, the problems are mostly resolved by
the end of this episode and she’s accepted into the group. That does not change the fact that for half
the episode, I was seething because of the inferiority she unintentionally and
then intentionally made Noa cope with. I
didn’t even need any character to tell me to not like her. The closest to that was Asuma being a through
line for the audience as we follow his suspicions of her being too good to be
true before accepting Takeo for what she is and informing Noa that she needs to
watch herself. Asuma’s rightful and
justified skepticism is the closest the episode gets to overtly and explicitly
telling us anything.
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| A rare Mai smile |
Since a villain is just a hero viewed through a different
context, the same principles of nuance and subtlety are true of heroes. We do not need a grandiose reason to like,
respect and relate to our heroes. The
simple gesture of Ohta saluting Kanuka on the escalator to her plane, or giving
Shinshi a hardboiled egg are small, simple gestures that endear Ohta towards us
and shows just how much he’s come from being a bigheaded, trigger-happy
asshole. Tiny actions things build over
time like in K-ON, simply changing one of the lines of a song to “little angel
girl” is enough to make anyone cry like a child. That principle is literally what Nichijou is
built upon, small, subtle changes that compound and gain more and more
significance. This is why so many simple
things at the end of the show are so significant, like Mai exchanging shark
drawings with Hakase or Mio deciding she wants to be a mangaka. This principle is held so well that several
of the one-off skits like Helvetica Standard, Word Play, and Love Like are more
significant and with more well-rounded stories and characters than majority of
seasonal anime and are usually in less than a minute. This is not exclusive to Nichijou, however,
considering that there are hundreds of short films that capture the same effect
and more than plenty anime that do the same in their first episodes: FLCL, Land of the Lustrous, Made in Abyss,
Princess Principal or Cowboy Bebop to name a few. We don’t need twenty episodes to understand
the significance of the small actions each character takes.
Buy building and plotting a story around smaller actions the
creators give us more fully realized characters, worlds and overall
stories. Small ripples can carry the
force of a tsunami when applied correctly.
The shows I listed as doing this well don’t include these same ripples
because they are great, rather they are great because they include the
ripples. It is not an easy way to write,
it is not an easy way to direct, but it is an easy way to create a worthwhile
experience worthy of being praised.




Nice analysis. Thanks.
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