Shakespeare Couples: Twelfth Night

Despite the disguises, in Twelfth Night, the relationships are surprisingly realistic because the personal connections are believable. 

Twelfth Night starring Toby Stephens, the effervescent Imogen Stubbs, and Helena Bonham Carter at her comedic best particularly does a fantastic job in establishing the lead characters' connections.  

Toby Stephens is, to put it mildly, a sexy piece of compact masculinity. In other versions, Orsino is tall-almost-stooping, melancholy and extremely self-pitying. I always wonder what on earth an adventurous, sharp and funny chick like Viola sees in the guy! 

Toby Stephens, however, plays a tautly wound chap who is normally extremely energetic (and witty). He does not so much swoon with love as glower with it, and viewers get the impression, as they should, that his problem is offended pride more than an offended heart. He doesn't really care about Olivia; he's just bored and she's available and he thinks she should like him. He does care about his servant Cesario (in fact, Stephens' reaction as Orsino to Cesario's "betrayal" is gripping and indicates what really matters to him); he is overwhelmingly relieved when Cesario turns out to be female.

Olivia and Sebastian also come across as believable. For one, it seems to be based on Olivia being taken with a pretty boy who chastises her. Olivia is arguably simply lighting on the first person who ISN'T Orsino to fall in love with. 

Still--at the end, one can only hope that Sebastian is an adequate substitute for, uh, his sister. 

Shakespeare being Shakespeare, one suspects that the problem of substitution IS Shakespeare's point.  

Twelve Kingdoms: Interview with the Translator, Children & Teenagers

On Votaries, I discuss youth heroes who save the world. I suggest that they are more interesting if they take action (with the implication that they will make mistakes) rather than merely inspiring people with their innocence. 

In keeping with these ideas, I am reposting one of my interviews with the translator. 

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Kate: Shadow of the Moon ruthlessly dismantles the worldview of a rather ordinary teenager who wafts through life expecting to be catered to and understood.

Do the Japanese have any patience with "snowflakes"? Or is the whole American obsession with teenagers kind of a bemusing oddity? Does Japanese Twitter ever reach the heights of American Twitter in terms of pure angry self-absorption?

Eugene: Of course, manga and anime focus a lot of attention on the teenage experience, but not typically the kind of attention that sets them at odds with the greater society. Love, Chunibyo & Other Delusions sets up the classic conflict between conformity and being "true to yourself," but makes compelling arguments on both sides and doesn't attempt to universalize the conclusions.

A comparison of old adages makes for an interesting exercise in sociolinguistics. In Japan, the nail that sticks out gets hammered down, while in the west, the squeaky wheel gets the grease. They sound similar but are opposite concepts. As illustrated in Rascal does not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai, the online culture in Japan wields that hammer just as ruthlessly as elsewhere.

The nail that sticks out gets hammered down and the snowflake gets the blowtorch. For good or ill, this is very much a product of gaman culture. You're supposed to get with the program, try hard, persevere, and fit in. A funny example of this is One Punch Man. The most powerful superhero in the universe gets no respect until he gets with the program (including the paperwork) and fits in.

To be sure, trendy activism is alive and well in Japan, ready to be discovered by western journalists, but is not nearly as influential (if at all) beyond the fringes. NHK World, for example, which caters to western audiences, tends to give the latest and greatest woke issues a degree of attention that suggests a prominence inside Japan that simply does not exist outside of select enclaves.

At the end of his "Why You Should Move to Japan" video, Nobita from Japan cites Japan's reluctance to adopt the woke politics of the west as a reason.

Clownfish TV explores the subject in depth here. 

Kate: I'm sure that someone somewhere has written a massive intellectual treatise on the plethora of children in Japanese manga/anime. From a popular culture perspective, what accounts for it? Why do children show up so much in anime/manga/light novels in adult situations? Or as long-lived children? Like in C.S. Lewis, these children experience very little adult hand-holding. Their youth is part of their attraction, not an excuse for their behavior.

Any thoughts? Are wise-beyond-their-years children a trope in Japanese literature, specific to certain authors, part of the cultural mindset?

Are Westerners the outliers, being squeamish (and more committed to the Victorian ideal of innocent childhood)?

Eugene: The most obvious answer is marketing. The editorial content of the numerous manga periodicals and imprints are designed by publishers to target specific demographics. Because consumers of manga and anime outside Japan tend to be older, they often overlook material aimed at younger audiences.

Several of the most popular and long-running anime on Japanese television are practically unknown in North America. Chibi Maruko-chan (over 1200 episodes to date) is a lighthearted melodrama about a traditional Japanese family in the 1970s. The POV character is a nine-year-old girl, so we see that world through her eyes.

There are a lot of authorized videos on YouTube. They're not localized, but it's worth watching an episode or two just to hear Tarako Isono as Maruko.

Delving more deeply into the social psychology of the matter, helicopter parenting simply hasn't become a thing in Japan. Basically, the kind of hands-off approach that kids enjoyed growing up in the American suburbs fifty years ago remains alive and well.

Elementary school students walk to school. By themselves. This expectation that young children can handle such responsibilities is taken as a given. The video at this link above is from a reality show in which little kids are given fairly complex tasks to accomplish by themselves.

In Non Non Biyori, once school is out, there is barely an adult in sight, also true of the elementary school kids in the more urban Den-noh Coil. At the end of Super Cub, three high school girls ride their scooters all the way to the southern tip of Kyushu. By themselves. And then there is the whole school government thing.

All this means that kids in Japan are not only allowed to do more interesting things, but it is easy to push the boundaries a bit and have them do really interesting things. Frankly, the spelunking expedition at the end of The Phantom Doctor strikes even me as crazy dangerous, but it would have been hugely appealing to Edogawa's readers.

In other words, Japanese not only expect more of (and grant greater latitude to) real children, but fictional children as well. It is the freest time of their lives, after all, and should not be wasted. (The girls in Super Cub go on their adventure during the spring break before their senior year, because that's when the fun pretty much ends.)

Kate: I previously taught a course about working women in America. The impact of biology—the reality of bearing children, giving birth and raising children—greatly influenced women’s work (when, how, what) historically and now.

Ono seems far more aware of the connection between work and childbearing than many Westerners. Many laws in the United States directly address many of these issues, but the reality of childbirth—perhaps as it loses its inherent risks—seems to be admitted with a shrug rather than an appraisal of its impact.

Does is that awareness inherent to Japanese culture? Due to its inherent conservatism?

Eugene: There are several long-standing aspects of Japanese culture that do address the inherent problems here in unique ways. First of all, especially among the aristocracy, well into the 20th century, legitimacy was readily conferred upon the offspring of mistresses. The current imperial line descends from one of Emperor Meiji's concubines, not his legal wife (Meiji was the last emperor to have concubines). 

The second is muko-iri marriage, according to which the husband is adopted into the wife's family. This is still relatively common today. "You can't choose your sons but you can choose your sons-in-law." In some cases, sans any children, a family business will adopt a loyal employee to keep the family name alive. The connection between work and childbearing thus becomes a negotiable arrangement.

Japan's current low birth rate and high female employment rate (above the OECD average) suggests that working and childbearing continue to be seen in mutually exclusive terms.Though it should also be pointed out that helicopter parenting is not a thing in Japan, which shifts the burdens of childrearing around. Nobody freaks out about unattended kids out and about in public.

So while contemporary Japanese society has evolved more slowly away from "traditional marriage" as the ideal model for organizing society, the real world is a lot more complicated, and the fictional world has taken full advantage. The working mother and the single mother in melodrama and comedy are ubiquitous at this point, and the single dad has become of late a favored protagonist.

After the Rain features the teenage daughter of a single mom and a divorced dad. The Way of the Househusband is about a stay-at-home dad (who happens to be a former yakuza). No children yet. Speaking of which, Ryuji in Toradora often gets mistaken for a yakuza (like his father), but he's a good kid who looks after his single mom (who works in a nightclub) more than she looks after him.

The responsible kid with the irresponsible single mom (who nonetheless has a heart of gold) is an established trope. Hanasaku Iroha begins with Ohana's mom sending her to her grandmother's country inn while she runs off with her latest boyfriend. In Beyond the Boundary, Akihito would prefer that his mom stay out of his life as she's a demon (not a terrifying demon, a total goofball of a demon).

Of course, you can count on manga and anime to push a concept to its logical extreme, so the preternaturally competent Kotaru in Kotaru Lives Alone is all of five years old.

At least in the fictional realm, raising independent children who can raise themselves is one sort-of solution.

Appearance & Identity in Manga and Other Works

In the manga series, His Favorite by Suzuki Tanaka, Sato was once a short, fat kid who got mocked by his peers (and defended by Yoshida). After time abroad, he returns tall, svelte, and handsome. 

Tanaka captures a basic truth with Sato (which Bronte also captures with Rochester). Whatever his appearance, he still thinks of himself as THAT kid. In fact, as far as Sato is concerned, he IS that kid. 

Sharyn McCrumb explains the psychology here in Missing Susan. Elizabeth MacPherson is on a tour with a woman, Susan, who had a great deal of cosmetic surgery and physical therapy. Susan is entirely exasperating (and is repeatedly nearly murdered). Fellow tour members explain why to Elizabeth:

"I don't think she's used to interacting socially," says one.

Another states, "She hasn't learned how to stop acting like a wallflower. She's only pretty on the outside; she doesn't believe it yet." 

Years ago, a reality show on television had people get plastic surgery. The plastic surgery was inevitably accompanied by therapy. And truth was, people really didn't change. In one episode, 3 sisters had plastic surgery to remove a genetic inheritance, what the sisters themselves referred to as turkey neck. After, the sisters went on a cruise.

And the one sister who was already straight-forward and confident behaved straight-forward and confident. And the other sisters, who were far less confident acted...exactly the same as they did before. 

With Sato, Tanaka captures a true inner issue: self-esteem honestly has little to do with appearance...unless appearance has been incorporated into a person's identity at a much earlier age. Yoshida is a short kid in high school, but he was the tallest in elementary school and still retains those leadership qualities.     

Dysfunctional Relationships: Can Happy Couples Bicker?

Based on multiple long-range studies, the Gottman Institute states that disdain/contempt is a strong indication that a relationship is doomed. 

And generally speaking, I've never bought into the sitcom relationships based on constant put-downs between spouses. When Tim Allen moved from (the successful) Home Improvement to (the successful) Last Man Standing, the wife became less critical. She also became both more independent and more likely to admire her husband.  

Of course, there is Howard and Bernadette on Big Bang Theory, who snipe at each other on a regular basis. For good or ill, I believe in the relationship. One possibility is that Bernadette, despite her small size, is such a replica of Howard's mother--at least in tone--I can accept that Howard has married what he knows. 

To an extent, what is considered contemptuous may depend entirely on the couple: what appears unworkable to outsiders could be entirely workable to insiders.  

 

Great Sci-Fi Couple: Mulder and Scully, Romantic Friends

On Votaries, I am posting about Characters Who Transform. A subcategory is Characters Who Disguise Themselves. And an odd subcategory is Characters Who Disguise Themselves Permanently. 

Under that last category, I am posting about Mulder and Scully. 

I'm a huge fan of Mulder and Scully. I think they fall into the "Friendship" category of romantic partners rather than the "Knight and Damsel in Distress" or "Instant Attraction" categories. And a great deal of that friendship comes about because Scully joins Mulder on his "island." They are not technically in disguise but they are isolated by their mutual knowledge of the Truth or the Pursuit of Truth.  

This type of thing can get a little squeamish--Stockholm Syndrome, anyone? 

But like the young man who returns to his wolf lover, nobody is being coerced. The choice to walk into the dark, onto the island, away from the "accepted" narratives is made with the eyes wide open. 

Friendship runs the relationship because the final "I love you! I love you!" confrontation is not the point. The couple have already been living a "marriage" for most of the seasons. Their relationship is the relationship of people who are so far gone in terms of intimacy with another human being, there can be no one else. 

One of my favorite scenes where closeness replaces declarations of affection is "Memento Mori." Scully tells Mulder that she has cancer and instead of getting maudlin, he says, "I refuse to accept that." I LOVE that line: "I refuse to accept that." Somehow, it makes Mulder so much more real and more passionate than the usual romantic hero and yet, at the same time, gives you a sense of Mulder's personality. 

The Lack of Couples--And Interest--in 3 of Shakespeare's Plays

I gave myself a pass on Timon of Athens, Titus Andronicus, and The Tragedy of Troilus and Cressida. I didn't try to read or watch them.  

The authorship of at least one of these plays is disputed. It isn't that Shakespeare couldn't write bad plays. But the plots of these plays...

Words fail me. 

I distill the play's plots using three different quotes plus fantastic cartoons from Good Tickle Brain:

Timon of Athens. A video summarizing the plot states, "Apemantus swings by to accuse Timon of copying his sarcastic and negative attitude." 

I love "swings by."   

A FaceBook summary of Titus Andronicus states, "14 people dead, 6 severed members, one rape, one live burial, one person insane, and one case of cannibalism."

And of Troilus and Cressida, Wikipedia states, "While this plot gives the play its name, it accounts for only a small part of the play's run time."

So...I'm not going to waste my time pondering these plays' relationships. 

Assumptions as Disguise; Revelation as True Knowledge

In romance, a lovely version of disguise based on assumptions is when assumptions are set aside and the couple make a connection. Darcy and Elizabeth, of course, are a classic example. Elizabeth especially--since so much of the novel is told from her perspective--sets aside her assumptions about Darcy (based on her own ideas and Wickham's insidious suggestions) to figure out the guy as he is, from his housekeeper, no less! 

In yaoi/MM romance, Winterbourne and Wataya are two great examples. In Joanna Chambers' Introducing Winterbourne, the secondary hero, Adam, realizes that his host for the day, Lysander Winterbourne, is not like his father. His blond good looks and careful tact are not the looks and actions of a self-entitled brainless profligate yuppie (the 19th century equivalent) but those of an insightful and kindly man who would rather be looking after an estate than meeting people in parlors. 

In Cherry Magic, Tsuge originally sees Wataya as a "punk." His magic allows him to see that Wataya is actually a pretty responsible and straightforward guy--who likes cats! 

The "reveal"--the disguise tossed off--happens mentally. It is just as satisfying as a cloak being removed.