Spiralling into insanity, looking at Junji Ito's horror manga Uzumaki

uzumaki_500.jpg

I’ve been reading a lot of manga lately. In the past, I’d go through brief fits of reading the stuff, but it always felt temporary, like a fling while my romance with anime hit the buffers. This time, it’s totally different; I’m ready to devour as much as I can find.
By and large, anime is defined by its limitations; it only looks as good as the money spent on it, but manga is typically drawn by one talented artist; someone with a consistent vision, capable of imagining a fantastic landscape without ever needing to worry about budgets and frame-rates. It’s an untainted, purer style of story-telling, burdened only by the singular abilities of its author.
With my above enthusiasm in-tow, the first stopping point on this fresh journey into the black/white country of comics was always clear; Uzumaki by horror maven Junji Ito. Given I’m still reeling in claustrophobia thanks to his deliciously weird short-story “The Enigma of Amigara Fault“, the idea of slipping into his most acclaimed work to date was an ambition I’ve held for many months.
Uzumaki is the Japanese word for “spiral”. If you know your anime, it will immediately conjure up two obvious references; the main character of Naruto is named “Uzumaki Naruto” and, of course, spirals (and anti-spirals) represent living energy, perhaps even the soul itself, in the excellent Gurren Lagann. I’m not sure why this symbol in particular seems so prevalent in Japanese culture, but Ito’s sinister ideas are quite persuasive. Spirals are obsession.
The dread conjured by completing Uzumaki was similar to the fright I felt when reading of Africa’s army ants. These aggressive colonies, which number in the millions, are constantly on the move. They form a “living architecture”, using their own bodies to build bridges and protective walls against the ravages of the African climate. They feed on almost anything by hunting en-mass, crawling over their prey in their millions and stripping it to the bone; even animals as big as horses have fell victim. Just reading about them, I’m disturbed by their unrelenting aggression and ambiguous intelligence. There is no point in trying to understand their intentions, it’s simply a case of running for your dear life, and that’s Uzumaki in a nut-shell too. A town haunted by a faceless, creeping, crawling malevolence, an unfathomable, undiscriminating curse hell-bent on the total destruction of every man, woman and child.
Beginning in a fine fashion then, the first chapter is brilliantly weird. To the utter bemusement of his relatively normal family, a typical Japanese salary-man is suddenly obsessed with spirals; at first he’s satisfied by merely staring into a snail’s shell, but as his mind gradually unhinges, he starts experimenting with his body too. He doesn’t simply admire the spiral, he wants to become one.
The first two volumes (out of three) are fairly episodic, making up a series of bizarre encounters with the spiral obsession, most of which range from the darkly comic to out-right disgusting. When I say the latter, I’m talking about cannibalistic pregnant women and insane doctors feeding their hungry patients umbilical cords and placenta that, for whatever reason, take root and grow when chopped from newly-born babies; and there’s more, but I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. All of the horror in Uzumaki is, as is Ito’s signature style, sticky and organic; we’re supposed to be sickened, disturbed and freaked by the way he twists and contorts the apparently flexible human body to new extremes.
uzumaki_350.jpgIt would be fair to say that I enjoyed the first two volumes, but they were merely fun for the sake of horror; I felt nothing for the characters, and the thread-bare plot offered little more than an uneven patch-work of horrific adventures. That is to say, I wasn’t heading into the third (and final) volume over-flowing with enthusiasm, yet it’s a quite remarkable end.
The entire town, now well beyond rescue, has been completely smashed by the dreaded curse. The last few survivors are starved and confused, tightly grouped together in small wooden huts, hiding from the many terrors roaming the streets outside, including tribes of cruel children capable of riding giant twisters through the wretched remains of modern civilisation. These last few chapters are post-apocalyptic, bereft of hope and beautiful; the landscape is desolate and open, forcing a real fear of loneliness on this reader that’s far more potent than the cheap thrills of earlier volumes.
Ito’s true strength isn’t necessarily his detailed depictions of gore, but his manipulation of human nature, the way he exploits our physical relationship with life and our worries of the unknown; he knows what’s lurking in the darkest caverns of reality, willing to fathom the moon-lit shadows being cast across our bedroom walls.

Thoughts on blogging; mass-market episodic anime blogging

Fear the snail's spiral, image from Uzumaki

I’m feelin’ kinda lost right now. Writers block, you might call it. Much as I want to say something exciting, profound or interesting, I’m basically runnin’ on empty, still searching for a tiny shred of inspiration. All through this week, I’ve intended to write something; anything. I want to be a more regular blogger, but I’ve never been able to stick to a schedule. The truth is that I’m not like the others, I can’t write all the time. You know, this anime blogging lark, it’s a good laugh, but its hard work too, like a responsibility burning a hole in my pocket. That’s not to say I hate doing this, on the contrary, I love it, but even still, I’d be lyin’ if I said I’d never considered jacking it in.
In between in this lull, I’ve found solace in writing news posts for my other website. No-one needs opinions in those, so it’s easy, I’m just documenting short and sweet moments in time, but it’s funny how my energy swings between the two, the swing of the pendulum always favouring one over the other. I suppose right now, I’m just bored of (my) opinions; may be it’s the icy season, or the sudden dawning of a new year, but inside, it’s like I’m struggling to engage my enthusiasm for anime.
This is all just a long winded way of saying “right now, I don’t have much to say”. Of course, I’m having fun watching the likes of Kaiji and Ghost Hound, but to write anymore than that would be a waste of time, and generally, I think it’s pointless talking about anime that’s already being adequately covered elsewhere. This is something that I’ve never really grasped about episodic anime blogs too, because so many of them copy the same formula of mini screen-caps, boring plot synopsis and a couple paragraphs of tacked-on opinion. Inevitably, most of them are saying the same things, all written within hours of each other and titled “Clannad 14” or whatever.
Lemmings? Not really, it’s just the different ways people approach blogging anime (and, I suppose, TV in general). I like recommending anime, telling people when something is worth watching; it’s taken me nearly two years to understand that about myself and this site, but I can only say “this is good” so many times. Much like web forums, episodic blogs are more about in-depth commentary and discussion; simultaneously, they attract hardcore fans, but alienate those like me, people looking for broader and opinionated reviews that draw on more than a measly 20 minutes worth of stilted animation. Episode reviews are great from a fans perspective, but they sure make the anime blogging community insular and inaccessible to outsiders. May be they are better off being discarded as things of the past and placed where they belong, on series-specific forums, instead?
What this comes down to is how we perceive blogging. I’ve always treated it like writing a public diary or journal, if I’m passionate about something, I’ll write about it, if not, I won’t, but I get a different feeling from a lot of episodic anime blogs. Come hell or high water, it’s like they have to write about every episode because their readers demand that ‘service’ in doing so, and don’t forget, you have to post it as fast as possible or you’ll likely lose a dozen of those superficial one-line comments, hence a raft of “Clannad 14” all within hours of each other. Is that even blogging?
All of this, it’s not intended as a jab at anyone; it’s aimed at this community as a whole. If you’re having fun writing your identikit couple of paragraphs every week or two, that’s perfectly cool with me, I just think it’s lazy and decadent and right now, I’m just waiting for all those rip-off spring ’08 previews to roll-around. You know, the ones with the little thumbnails, synopsis, urls etc. They are all the same too, but we’re going around in circles and I’ve been reading the creepy Uzumaki lately.