Cruel Angel Theses

It was an entertaining episode, I’ll grant you that. As a good blogger’s duty’s all about highlighting underrated shows that might have dropped off the radar as a result of underexposure or consistency (with Bamboo Blade coming to mind), when I take into consideration how episode 17 brought to light the series’ strengths very well, I feel duty-bound to write about it as a result. But what is this show about, anyway?

To my knowledge, the general idea that those who aren’t interested in it have is that it seems to be just another, milder, member of the fetish persuasion, nevermind how the example I linked to is already so far gone that I’m using it ironically here. For all the “I have no idea why, but FUCK YES I’M WATCHING A GIRLY SHOW!” fans there’s the intially-nonplussed ones to balance them out, and if you’re in the latter group and reading this, here’s the hard sell in a paragraph:

At its basics, Shugo Chara is about believing in yourself that believes in you. It’s all about doing the impossible, seeing the invisible, touching the untouchable, and breaking the unbreakable. Yes, I just compared it to Gurren Lagann. No, you’re not going to get much sense out of that statement until you read further, so hold your bile for the end.

“the egg is my soul” is a valid statement here, too

The similarities aren’t as apparent till you hold them under close scrutiny, that’s for sure. The innate difference between shoujo and shounen in terms of inspirational role models mean that while they’re essentially the same (the Shugo Charas v.s. Kamina), the approach is different. They ultimately preach the same core message of standing up for what you stand for, but deliver their stance through very different ways that might make this comparison moot unless you’re familiar with both sources.

SC’s message is, of course, GAR in a paradoxical sense, innately flawed in that it can never be GAR in practice but only in theory, assuming that Kamina’s dictum is by default. The clincher is this — while the Gurren Brigade makes extensive use of drills, Ganmen, and brute force to prove their point, all Amu has at her disposal are hearts, Character Changes, and beamspam words to prove hers.

Of course, there’s amusing parallels with the whole GAR vs MOE situation here, despite there being nary a shift in the crux of the matter, only in the way it’s presented. Kamina as the quintessential shounen role model is extroverted, a process of inwards-looking-out that’s the direct opposite of the introverted, outwards-looking-in form of Amu’s Shugo Charas, her would-be selves personified as sentient beings that interact with her.

Unfortunately it’s a lot harder to recognise SC for what it is or can do as it isn’t packaged with the decade-long worldly-wise self-aware genre subversion that TTGL comes with. While I’m sure that there’s a case to be argued for how the Shugo Charas surreptitiously replace the talking-mascot-cum-newbie-guide (that Nanatsuiro Drops also subverted to comedic effect) and how it makes for a great symbol that Freud would approve of, it’s taken some time to warm up to as a result of the occasional filler and consistent sameness that makes this a tough one to blog about.

There isn’t a difference in why the role models want the protagonist to believe, however. You could say that the Shugo Charas ultimately have a message of self-preservation slipped in alongside their motivation — the infallible Geass counter-argument “LIVE!” to Suzaku’s unwavering and suicidal loyalty — before you realise that they’re part of Amu, rendering any conflicting interests at stake moot. Kamina and the Shugo Charas want the best for Simon and Amu, and they’re going to do whatever it takes to reach that goal, even if it means punches to the mouth or dramatic, tearful revelations about disappearing.

Familial resemblance aside, there’s something undeniably charming and relevant about how SC presents its other message, when it isn’t bashing your masculine sensibilities in the balls with pre-teen growing pains and insecurities, the colour pink, or even the girly-girl stuff that makes up its target audience. Realism in the mahou shoujo genre generally goes out the window when you have a pre-pubescent girl who can wield a magic wand to do magical stuff, and the way in which Peach-Pit’s fashioned its work to make it all the more accessible to its demographic and fans at large has earned my respect through a superpower second to none:

because some things need a translation; for everything else, there’s Danbooru

Behold, the power of words. An ability everyone has yet not something anyone can master, an everyday tool deadly in the hands of the wrong people. To be specific, it’s through these “wrong people” that the X Eggs, an allegory on the potential harm that excess negativity can inflict on children (even if somewhat dramatised) at that age. It’s an impressionable age, to be sure, and while it would be a non-issue to anyone about 5 to 10 years older, the X Eggs are allegorical in the sense of how they illustrate the harm that comes from destructive and thoughtless criticism, or even ill-placed words that hurt, regardless of original intent.

What a superpower, eh? Nikaidou’s genius lies in how his actions have an everyman quality to them, from the seemingly innocent way in which he goes about manipulating Saaya to do his bidding, to the divide and rule way in which he played Kuukai off against the rest, albeit unsuccessfully. It wasn’t so much the tactics employed as it was the perfectly innocent yet malicious way in which it was done that grounded it in reality, for isn’t that what we do all the time when we spread rumours or gossip about people?

It’s interesting to note how Amu’s powers work in the same vein, too. Her Amulet-powered transformations are important, no doubt about that, but her real power lies in how she uses the very same words that turn the zombie-like, fallen-into-despair kids back to normalcy again. The transformation and heart-shaped lasers are but formalities to be performed once she’s said her piece, and the way in which it illustrates how optimism always triumphs over pessimism by overcoming the darkness within us, and it never fails to bring a lump to my throat or get me all misty-eyed everytime, even if it’s a small victory for said character in mention.

With that in mind, SC’s moralising has never been its weak point due to how subtly it’s been executed, and it won extra kudos from me by melding both the moral lesson and the conflict together effectively this time round. While most of the episodes so far have been formulaic, as many have noted, the unexpected plot twist helped break the mould that I’ve come to expect, in addition to reminding me that a solid work like this isn’t about to give up the ghost barely halfway through its run.

I’m going to digress here for a moment and wax lyrical about the Narnia-sque vibes given off by the four Guardians during the episode. Assuming you used The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe as the setting and had Tadase as Peter, Nadeshiko as Susan, Kuukai as Edmund and Yaya as Lucy, Nikaidou here took on the role of the White Witch well enough for a bit of conflict that never happened — and yes, I know that leaves me with Amu as Aslan, which just… seems wrong. Saaya as Tumnus just seems amusing enough to work, though.

P.S. Regarding the use of “superstructure”: I tried thinking of something, but “The Anatomy of a Magical Girl” didn’t seem that all appropriate, and besides, I actually want people to read this thing.