METACRUX

Critique and meta for video games, television, movies, books and fandom.

[metacrux]

The Rose Bride Rebuilt: Adolescence as Utena's Prison

Note: This is an interpretation (not headcanon, just analysis) of the Utena movie and how it relates to the anime. Over time I've seen a lot of people annoyed by or just flat out confused by the film, but I'm quite fond of the movie and what it could represent. This post will have spoilers for the entire television run as well as the film, as well as a discussion of the incest and sexual assault themes in the franchise.

Essentially, Adolescence of Utena is a sequel. It can be viewed as the world Utena falls into after she frees Anthy at the end of the anime, sacrificing herself so Anthy can pass the threshold of Ootori. As Anthy notes to Akio, Utena isn't gone - she's somewhere else, and the film provides the narrative for that somewhere else.

The new Ootori school introduced in the beginning is fractured into a series of sets, the architecture literally moving around and into place like a play or the sudden jolts of a dream. Utena herself has a new form from the start, comfortable in a boys' uniform rather than defining her clothes as an emulation of her prince. She flirts openly with Wakaba from the start, as opposed to the passive Utena from the anime who has a legion of adoring female fans but seems quietly embarrassed by it more than anything else. This is the Utena who's gotten past wanting a 'normal boy', even if she can't remember where she's been.

How the rest of the cast is characterized emphasizes that this is a world built off Utena's thoughts and memories. Wakaba is playful and friendly, Juri is idealized into a full-fledged prince, and Miki is quiet, kind, and doesn't participate in the duels at all. Saionji is barely a flash in the pan, remembered only for threatening Anthy - Utena barely noticed him in the original series otherwise - and the repressed memories of Touga being the one to stand over her coffin as a child slam headlong into her fractured recollection of the series, turning him into a fallen, ghostly prince that haunts her. Touga in the film represents what Utena knows she's supposed to want, but it's all a lie. She's never been that girl, although her psyche is still reeling from everything Akio did to her and demanded she endure.

It's Akio's presence - well, absence - is one of the key factors to Adolescence being a sequel. He's dead from the very start, relegated to old videotapes that showcase his horrific abuse of Anthy and the false veneer of kindness attached to his relationship with his fiance, ending with a suicide since he's lost his 'key'. The key is to his car, the symbol of his power that slices through the end arcs of the television series, is inaccessible, because Utena already destroyed the bonds between him, Anthy, and his supernatural ability.

The movie isn't about Akio all over again, although he appears at the end. It's about Utena's fear and trauma and everything she's repressed. Her life in the duels is fused into this mental prison, with symbols like the elevator tower blending into the scenery like they mean nothing at all, but remain ever-present. She struggles the entire time with remembering, drawing out bits and pieces of the truth as the story from the anime - almost - plays out all over again.

After seeing spectres of Touga, she chases him down desperately, but after Utena finally catches him, there's a quiet moment of realization. Standing with his ghost, she says, "I didn't come here hoping to find you."

The sound of the water droplet from the anime echoes when she recovers the Rose Crest, handed to her as an artifact to remind her of the past, rather than the gift that inspired her to become a prince in the first place. The duels are honestly of secondary importance in the film, since Utena is past the point of Akio's machinations, but her fight with Saionji is what returns her to Anthy.

Anthy herself has clearly progressed. She's almost constantly upbeat and forthright, mocking Saionji from the very beginning. This is a girl who knows she's no longer the Rose Bride, that's she's already past that deep hell, but there has to be something to jumpstart Utena into remembering what they were again. Anthy is a visitor in this purgatory, the heroine who has come to draw the girl she loves back out of the darkness.

There's still a flicker of fear when she sees the ring on Utena's finger, but who could blame her? It wasn't a single duel before, but grueling fights over and over, and it took so long for Utena to realize the truth. The question arises quietly, "What did you come to this school to do?"

The crucial difference between the Saionji duel in the series and the film is that the pretense caused by Wakaba's letter is gone. Utena is immediately fighting for Anthy rather than trying to avenge the honor of her best friend. The rather dense view Utena took of the Rose Bride initially is replaced by the forthright, "Is there a girl who's happy to be traded through duels?"

Utena remembers, and yet she doesn't. Roses blossom everywhere, wild and free to grow, reminding her that Anthy is no longer relegated to the caged garden where she first saw her. Whenever her hair grows back from its short cut in the duels, she's herself again for a few moments, but the revelation fades as soon as her transformation does.

When Anthy comes to her bedroom, they immediately fall together, close and intimate, but by the time Anthy pulls her zipper down, she retreats, suddenly afraid. The reason why, the words she says, are proof that she is grasping at the truth. She wants to know if Anthy 'does this' with every victor of the duels, and Anthy's answer terrifies her. Utena recoils because even if she desires Anthy, thinking that she could force Anthy to ignore the rules of the Rose Bride was her tragic, agonizing failure in the anime. In the movie, part of her instinctively knows it would be unfair, even abusive, to sleep with Anthy why she's still the Bride. They have to get out of the place where the Rose Bride exists, where there are no rings or swords or contracts.

Shiori plays an interesting element through the rest of the film, tying the new Touga-as-prince narrative into Juri's forced framing as the prince. She's the bridge between the arcs, both of which prove that being the prince is a miserable thing to be. The prince isn't superior to the Rose Bride, it's following a dated chivalry that supposes they can force miracles, regardless of consent. Juri is hung on the cross of Shiori's ideals, manipulated into believing that she could be enough, just as Utena believed her will was enough to supersede the bonds of the Rose Bride. It wasn't until both identities were cast aside - prince and princess - that Utena was able to free Anthy, by giving up her life selflessly instead of telling Anthy to free herself by ignoring Akio and an entire lifetime of abuse.

The painful truth, of course, is that breaking away from an abusive situation once doesn't mean you're free. For all the progress Utena and her friends seemed to make by the end of the anime, they still slide backwards in the film. While Miki seems to have freed himself from the duels (due to Touga and Akio being absent to goad him), he and Kozue remain codependent. Juri shows herself openly with Shiori, but she still can't demand the respect and fair treatment she deserves, terrified of the prospect of rejection. Touga's flashbacks to his abuse prove that he continued the cycle of manipulation and pain with others, rather than trying to avoid being the same monster his adopted father was.

Utena and Anthy still have their fears, even as Anthy destroys her own roses to show Utena the stars. They dance, they get closer, and Utena's memories continue to unravel themselves until she recalls all that Akio's done. But instead of recoiling like she did in the series, reacting with uncalled for jealousy and upset, she kisses Anthy and takes to the duel against Juri with aplomb, split second visions of Akio's castle and her and Anthy gripping hands flashing through the fight. Utena isn't playing the prince anymore, she's with Anthy for real.

After Utena wins, after she starts to really remember, she runs through a simulacrum of the Nemuro Memorial Hall, chasing signs until she finds herself in the elevator that marked the Black Rose arc in the series. Where it served as a symbol of regression in the anime, it does the same in the movie, forcing Utena to recall the deaths that plagued her childhood and the knowledge that Touga is just a spectre, a dream.

Returning to Anthy with the truth, Utena finds the Rose Crest yanked from her finger as she starts to transform into a car. Without the ring, she's not a duelist, and Anthy is no longer the Rose Bride bound to her. They're both free.

While the literal 'Utena becomes a car' scene seems to be a source of much confusion, it's an extended metaphor of Utena becoming the vehicle for Anthy's liberation. Only by being transformed herself and understanding can they break away from Ootori and everything that it stands for. It's a hard, brutal road, filled with all the lies Akio offered for Anthy to force her under his thumb, and the painful machinations he unleashed on Utena to mold her into his perfect prince.

Shiori attempts to escape as well, but she's still trapped in her plan for revenge and punishment, and fails as a result. Juri, Saionji, and Miki are on their way with Wakaba - friendship can be a vehicle of liberation too, not just romantic love - and promise Utena that they'll find their own way out someday. They all have their own demons even without the Rose Bride, but they're smiling as they take their own road.

Once Anthy and Utena are free of the castle - of illusion - they emerge together, and Ootori is shown to be a sham, a set kept only together by fears and memories. They kiss, on their way to a place with no roads, where they can finally make their own destinies instead of having their lives decided for them.

End Note: I'm pretty sure Ikuhara turned Nanami into a cow again because he thought it was funny.

[metacrux]

No Gun, No Game: Why Conflict & Combat Matters In Left Behind

This post discusses The Last of Us: Left Behind DLC to an extent, but within the context of how combat is tied to the narrative of video games in general, and how the DLC gave good and bad examples of combat and combat mechanics to establish a narrative flow and tension. There are spoilers for the entire DLC as well as the main game beneath the cut, but no direct dialogue or screenshots.

The reason I chose Left Behind to discuss these concepts is because it's relatively short, self-contained, and specifically meant to focus on story and character-building as opposed to combat, as stated by its creators. It's an interesting assertion to make at a point in time when many games with minimal combat or a lack of it entirely are being derided as not being games at all and even more so when about fifty percent or more of the DLC is combat.

Some form of conflict - whether physical or emotional - is necessary for any dynamic story, but in the case of AAA video games, combat tends to be the default form of conflict. For some games like Call of Duty, that's the intended purpose and as such, doesn't have a narrative to frame or defend.

So what kind of game is The Last of Us? While there have been regular comparisons to titles like Bioshock Infinite, I find that it doesn't quite sync. Bioshock Infinite (and the series as a whole) is a first person shooter through and through, no matter what set-pieces it uses. The Last of Us is third-person with certain dialogue options and decisions that fill out the story, but overall it has a set narrative and a given ending. I'd align it closer to a game like Spec Ops: The Line, which has a shooter focus while fully intent on dragging the player through an emotional and painful journey.

Left Behind is set in the middle of The Last of Us campaign, which results in certain narrative restraints. As it's recommended that players beat the entire game before playing the DLC, they will be well aware of what Riley, Ellie, and Joel's fates are as soon as Left Behind loads. Combat is already a given for a hardened player of the campaign, armed with the knowledge of how to shoot, blow up, and sneak up on all the infected the world has to offer.

What is often forgotten by many developers is that combat holds as much weight in a narrative as a character's dialogue or questlines. In games that are driven by story, that weight becomes more and more prevalent in regard to not only why combat is being used within the narrative, but how. Having to track down a target and kill them is a much different experience than being backed into a corner fumbling for the next clip to shove into a pistol, or at least it should be.

Left Behind begins with Ellie essentially being alone. Joel is critically injured, and her journey out into the mall is to find him medical supplies. Without him, the imminent danger is clear. Even without the threat of Infected, there are plenty of ways to die or be hurt in wrecked stores and back hallways. This narrative runs alongside her memories of Riley, who leads her to the derelict mall nearby after an awkward reunion. Threads of tension run through both stories and contrast each other, making Ellie's isolation particularly pointed.

With the exception of one Infected that Ellie can promptly knife outside of the princess story while seeking sutures for Joel, both malls in Left Behind are initially presented as empty. As the two girls talk in the past, Riley eventually leads Ellie to a power box and tells her to turn it on, flooding the interior with light. The conflict is mirrored in the present as Ellie finds a locked gate, the lack of electricity keeping her from reaching a downed military helicopter that could contain a first aid kit for Joel.

As she heads towards the generator room, revealed to be filled with both water and Infected, it's easy to think that if Ellie had Riley or Joel with her, it wouldn't be as brutal and terrifying. The combat parallels the emotional thread, as it should. Killing the four Stalkers is quick and bloody work for an experienced player, followed by a jump scare as the power turns on. It's a stark reminder of how much luck plays into Ellie's survival, even with her wits about her.

When she ascends to the pet store, however, the Infected that follow feel like padding. Why are there a pack of them simply standing in a store that's closed on both sides, and why are there more under the helicopter where the space was empty and quiet before? Ellie - and rightly so - questions where the hell they came from, and no answer is ever given. It's another stabfest to reach the gate that's been powered, and the mall already feels less quiet. With a narrative that's focused on loss and solitude, even an abundance of enemies can disrupt it.

The true tension lays in Ellie's climb up to the helicopter, glass cracking under her feet before she jumps in and nearly falls right back out. It's not that the player thinks that Ellie won't survive it - they know she has to live to see the rest of the campaign - but it's an example not only of her desperation, but just how far she'll go to save Joel and keep herself from being alone in the world again. Climbing a broken, frozen helicopter for the sake of some sutures says a lot more than Ellie putting in a bullet in four more Infected, and her determined mantra of 'I'm not letting go' transitions back into the story with Riley.

Left Behind shines in the scenes where they both play games and tease one another, especially since two of the scenes tie back to the reality of combat itself. Playing the game within a game where Riley narrates Ellie fighting Blackfang with Angel Knives is very well-done. Not only is the arcade novel in a world that has denied the both of them any sort of normal childhood, the description of the brutal combat while Ellie slams buttons seems almost innocent, as if the both of them won't spend the rest of their lives - however short - experiencing the real thing.

When it comes to the water guns, the same principle applies. Riley carries a real gun, but it's easy to forget when her and Ellie are teasing each other for being drenched. Ellie even says 'time to die' without a care in the world, and the player knows that it will be true, soon enough. The scene even uses the exact same mechanics - focused listening, R1 to fire - as Ellie does in the timeline with Joel, lulling the player into the scene before the two of them are ambushed and Riley fires off a shot. No matter how much they play or talk to one another, the truth of the world shoves its way in and the perspective changes once more.

Ellie starts retracing her path to Joel and is interrupted by remnants of David's group inside a record store fighting off Infected. The conflict gives her access to the bow, which a player who's beaten the campaign will be familiar with, and ties the DLC as a whole back to the main story. It fits well as a quick spurt of action, leading to Ellie's claustrophobic climb through a bloody vent before she emerges in another store to find more men and more Infected.

Here Ellie can toss a brick or bottle into the middle of things while keeping hidden, luring both enemies into one another. It's an excellent tactic and one that is very fitting for Ellie, who not only has limited resources and strength, but time. My only critique applies to a background mechanic - why does Ellie have to kill everyone to move on? In a game that seeks to be realistic in many ways, it makes no sense.

Attacking someone or an Infected is an inherent waste of resources unless it serves another purpose. It expends energy, puts Ellie in immediate risk of physical harm, and will more likely than not expend bullets, bombs, or first aid kits that could have been saved for an occasion when conflict was unavoidable. In many cases, it should be possible to sneak by Infected and leave them be. Killing them means one less Infected, but the risk towards Ellie - who is the only source of a potential cure - far outweighs one less Runner. The Infected aren't affected by deaths of their fellows, concerned about morale, or keeping a tally of how many Ellie shoots before deciding to retreat; it's a fungus.

When Ellie finally gets close to the door Joel is locked behind, the DLC has a sudden hiccup in pacing. There are a few more of David's men to kill, which is simple enough, but then when Ellie tries the door, there's even more. And then there's even more, along with Infected. I did one playthrough on Easy and the section continues to be a minor slog, as the player is kept on a timer before the door is cracked open and Joel is shot, immediately failing the encounter and prompting a restart. It feels like a sudden bout of wave defense after there have already been three fights back to back and as a result, all together unnecessary.

What purpose does it serve to suddenly swarm Ellie? She's been outnumbered for the entire Joel side of the DLC, and there comes a point where more numbers don't keep raising the stakes. It doesn't spark more concern for Joel, because the player already knows he's going to live, otherwise he'd suddenly be absent from the main campaign without explanation. It's just barrier after barrier of bodies being placed between Ellie and Joel, drawing out the time between the last scene with Riley, the follow-up of which the player should be eager to see.

However, the pacing continues to be strained after the switch when Ellie has to slip under a door and find something to prop it open for Riley before she's bitten. Because of the matter of seconds allowed to find the object, Riley died three times on my first playthrough because nothing in the room lit up to be used and there were no hints. I ran into the cart twice before the prompt showed - whether that's a bug or a small hitbox, I can't say - but even on a second play going straight for the cart, it seemed like an unwieldy moment in their escape. Again, if I've already beaten the campaign, I know that scene isn't where Riley dies. I'm sure the intention of the small time window was to increase tension and make Ellie seem more desperate, but the hesitation forces the player to focus on mechanics - where the green triangle shows up - instead of the scene playing out in front of them.

The same instance applies afterwards as Ellie is running with Riley and can be caught by a pair of Infected if you don't turn fast enough. Her being bitten and leading to a failure is ridiculous when the player not only knows she gets bitten later on, but that she's immune to the infection. Sticking to QTE buttons for the entire chase would have flowed much better, letting Ellie help Riley past the initial door and then knifing her way through without an actual failure able to happen. The player doesn't need additional motivation via a restart; why would they stop running in the first place? Also, 'dying' at that point in the run jumps the DLC forward to the scaffolding for an unknown reason, leading to some kneejerk confusion as to how Ellie teleported a room forward after being attacked.

The end of Left Behind, of course, is very sad and sweet. Even with the conclusion being a given, watching Ellie about to stitch up Joel on the edge of desperation running in tandem with her and Riley talking is just how it should be. Overall, the DLC is well done and should be lauded for many reasons, but it leaves the question as to what the writers meant when they said they tried to cull away combat and yet jumped hip-deep into it at the last moment.

Technically, Left Behind didn't need any combat at all, as has been remarked on in other reviews. There's plenty of action and activity in the Joel half of the DLC from the exploration and collectibles that can be found, most of them telling a story about the group of soldiers that crashed there and then died one by one. Even without Infected, Ellie's world is still deadly with cold, with broken staircases and electrified water, and the only person left alive protecting her slowly bleeding out; after all, Joel was taken out by a piece of rebar, not a bite.

The isolation would have been even more stark if Ellie's only company the entire time was the brief jump of a wayward cat and the recorders she found, serving as reminders about being one of the only fragments of humanity remaining. The game is called The Last of Us; what would have been more fitting? It would sit in contrast with her memories of Riley, memories of a girl she showed affection for, when they both had a fleeting thought that they could escape. It was before Ellie knew she could be a cure, when she thought they would die together. Then, in present time, her fear becomes dying alone.

Combat in current AAA titles is ubiquitous. Looking through a list of best-selling games across the evolution of platforms makes it remarkably clear and games that try to break the mold, even on an independent level, tend to be dismissed as not being games at all. It's a strange sort of roundabout argument, as older franchises like Tetris and various Mario titles don't contain combat at all, but are considered vital to video game history. The goalposts are constantly moved to reject games like Gone Home, which has no combat at all, and Beyond Two Souls, which does contain combat but was perceived as being 'on rails' despite having a unique narrative system that not only allows for failure, but encourages it.

I'm glad the writers for Left Behind wanted less combat - and were apparently encouraged to do so by their fans, but the question remains; less combat compared to what?

It's not that combat in story-based video games is a bad thing, not by any means, it's just that it's often used to pad or carry an entire narrative without the combat itself offering any substance. Unless the point of the game itself is to kill people, why and how the player is killing people should matter. I should be able to pause the game, set my controller down, and have an answer as to why I'm constantly pulling the trigger. Is it because I'm enjoying it as a mechanic, because I think it's vital to the story? Or is it because a developer put twenty digital bodies in front of my character to add another hour of playtime?

[metacrux]

The Well of Loneliness

All of these arguments going around centered around sexuality and pairing preference seemed focused on sex. Being comfortable with queer women having sex or women having sex or a lack thereof. I could understand that, except that isn't the entire problem.

I don't see gen writing for female characters. I don't see E through T rated stories for queer female couples.

I see a fraction of the art, explicit or otherwise.

I don't see the shipping meta, even for canon couples. I don't see two female characters who share a smile or a compliment getting gifsets like two male characters do. There doesn't even have to be sex, and yet there's a dearth of a following.

I see fandom attaching like magnets to shows with a male-majority cast and ignoring shows with actual queer and sex-balanced casts. This also applies to novels, movies, and everything else.

If you are personally uncomfortable with your own body, I am never going to tell you not to be, but queer fiction for women (and I mean for women) is still suffocated. Historically, queer women's sexuality has been dismantled as 'not enough' to count. They're just friends. Boston marriages. Priests in the church saying they can't actually comprehend about how two women have sex.

Queer historians have trouble even finding proof of queer female relationships in history. There's Sappho and then occasionally they find a Dark Ages arrest warrant and once we finally reach the 1900s, there's more to scrape up and display. Whereas a certain kind of queer male sexuality has been celebrated in many, many culture's histories (Japan and ancient Greece immediately come to mind), the same cannot be said for women. Women have been wives and slaves and tools, not independent sexual beings. I can break out the books if people really want me to.

I even run a blog on the topic. Every piece on queer female sexuality on there represents hours of research and money out of my pocket. Whenever I post something dedicated to queer male sexuality, I just run a Google search. I get plenty of results, citations and all. It's not hidden.

In the same era that Sappho was being 'straightened out' by playwrights and translators changed pronouns in her poetry from 'she' to 'he' so it was fit for public consumption centuries later, Walt Whitman was publishing Leaves of Grass.

It is only recently that it's become - in the circle of mainstream pornography and media, which we already know is a pile of garbage - a male gaze showoff. And rather than it being reclaimed, it's been abandoned. I've been in fandom for a decade now and with the exception of one fandom off the top of my head - Xena, since every male character of significance is killed at some point - femslash is the smallest slice of the pie. And not twenty percent or ten percent, but maybe, just maybe five percent.

Then you have to sort through the normal writing slog of half of what you find is going to be terrible and a fair amount is going to be something you don't ship. We've gotten used to clawing for some crumbs because even other queer women aren't comfortable writing what should be an instrument of their own sexuality.

Male sexuality, historically and presently, has always been celebrated more than female sexuality, straight or otherwise. Women are not supposed to be sexual, and plenty of queer women have been brand as manhaters for not joining in on the male celebration. They're frigid, they're dykes, and they need to be 'corrected'. I don't want to risk triggering people by explaining all the ways that has happened, but you don't have far to look if you want to find out.

This is not a recent problem or a fandom problem. It is a historical problem. If you want a recent reference read this article and the comments beneath from published erotic fiction authors. There isn't just a lack of interest in writing about queer women together, there is an active disgust, even when it is written by women for the enjoyment of other women. That is a hell of a problem. I'll be honest, even the thought makes my blood boil a bit.

There is a void left for the male gaze, because guess what, unless two women are fucking in full display? We're told it doesn't count. It isn't a relationship. It's not really sex. Go back to the above Xena fandom and you'll find people insisting that a pair of women kissing, calling each other soul mates, calling each other girlfriends, sleeping in the same bed, several seasons of constant innuendo, and being married in a future life does not imply homosexuality at all. They're just friends. Even though the producers were forced to edit the opening credits of the show on numerous occasions because they said certain cuts implied that Xena was interested in women.

I see female characters in general torn to pieces. Their motivations and their needs. It's no wonder fandom doesn't ship them because they seem to only exist as fodder for meta and argument. And when there is celebration, they're all alone because the men around them have been shipped off with each other.

I am not saying anyone has an obligation to ship or not ship certain sexualities, pairings, or couples. But when there is a severe, blatant imbalance erasing female sexuality and relationships, attention should be paid to as to why. Doing nothing or passing the buck doesn't help anyone.

As a given disclaimer, most men shipped by fandom are also white and cis. This applies to the fandom spectrum as a whole and continues to add to the rampant lack of representation.

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Repost from 11/9/12.