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Vincent Canby’s review of Shogun Assassin (1980) is scathing, but warranted. He begins his diatribe with a critique of the film’s child narrator, Daigoro, the protagonist’s son. Canby finds Daigoro’s commentary on the film’s bloody action “pricelessly funny” because of his matter of fact tone and perpetual understatement. The columnist applies the brunt of criticism to the film’s script, “Shogun Assassin…is as furiously mixed up as What’s Up Tiger Lilly? the classic that Woody Allen made by attaching an English soundtrack to a grade-Z Japanese spy movie.” He sums up the film’s plot quite simply, as the story of a “tubby, outcast samurai wandering the length and breadth of Japan.” Though Canby appreciates some of the film’s photography, the movie’s intense violence and gore disturb him. Ultimately, Canby concludes, “the movie is an unimportant joke.”
The review illustrates Shogun Assassin’s reception in the United States as an exploitation film. The film’s director, Robert Houston, and writers, Houston and David Weisman, spliced together scenes from the first two installments of the Japanese Lone Wolf and Cub series, fabricated a script, and then dubbed the footage. The film enjoyed moderate success as its release coincided with television’s airing of the epic miniseries “Shogun” (based on James Clavell’s novel). But in marketing Shogun Assassin within the context of more traditional samurai films, Houston and Weisman did the movie a tremendous disservice. Viewers like Vincent Canby attended the film with expectations formed from such legendary Japanese directors as Akira Kurosawa, Masaki Kobayashi, and Hiroshi Inagaki. Shogun Assassin however, is an adaptation of the manga series Lone Wolf and Cub. Thus, the film requires a different set of criteria for judgment. The movie’s unrealistic fight sequences and unlikely heroes are firmly rooted in its manga predecessor. Yet Shogun Assassin’s distributors were not interested in its artistic or cultural heritage; they were interested in turning a profit.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1995.9.S24 S5 2005
Section 6.3 of Alain Silver’s book, The Samurai Film, entitled “The Red Slayers,” suggests that the gory content and pitiless heroes of the 1970s’ chambara films (Japanese swordplay films) act as a historical corrective of the cynical samurai films of the 1960s. These films, critical of the Romantic conception of the samurai, featured self-sacrificing heroes who championed humanity and subverted violence to question popularized notions of “samurai honor.” While the protagonist of the 1970s chambara film also rejected “samurai honor,” he “manifests his or her rejection of those false standards not merely with words but with actions” (Silver, 221).
Silver also documents the increased self-interest of the 1970’s filmic samurai. His denunciation of the samurai code transcends the typically griped about tenants of fealty until death and honor at all costs. This “new hero” denies humanitarian values in favor of his own advancement or survival (Silver, 221). Samurai betray other samurai to further their careers (Furin kazan) and warriors rob from peasants with a disregard for civic duty. The section culminates with Silver’s ruminations on Itto Ogami, the central character of Shogun Assassin and the Lone Wolf and Cub series. For Silver, Ogami is the paradigm “new hero.” He is a ruthless killer driven by his instinct to survive. He cannot afford to lay down his weapon, “because he is locked into a time where to do so is to perish” (Silver, 223). Silver also provides some examples from the Lone Wolf and Cub saga to illustrate Ogami’s skepticism about the “way of the samurai.”
By including Lone Wolf and Cub (and transitively Shogun Assassin) in his evaluation of 1970s chambara films, Silver grants the film does provide historical insight. The section implies the film’s director, Kenji Misumi, attempted to define the true objectives of the samurai: money, social status, and survival. He accepts Lone Wolf and Cub as a new revision of a historical icon.
Hatcher examines the workings of the American anime industry, paying the most attention to the history and physical process of fansubbing. Fansubbing is the process by which fans take Japanese anime (taped from broadcast television or DVD/home video), translate it and edit the video to include their own subtitles. Fansubs used to be distributed on VHS either in stores or among fan clubs, but are now almost exclusively found online. Hatcher suggests that the anime industry, though it has unquestionably benefited from fansubbing and other forms of high-level fan involvement, is now "held hostage by the internet and their otaku-consumers." By now professional licensing and localization companies can do much of their own advertising and market research due to the growth and age of the domestic marketplace; yet such companies know that to crack down on the core loyal fans will almost certainly result in a huge backlash from those on whom they rely most. In contrast to common internet "pirates," fansubbing groups commit infringing acts in the open (as publicized on websites or individual named in credits attached to their work) and are confident in the moral high ground of their actions (if a work is not yet licensed in America, it is seen as "perfectly legal" to make it available in fansubbed form, for example-despite international copyright laws); the common conception of "anime fair use" makes many technically illegal uses practically immune to legal retaliation
The almost forced acceptance of the fan use of anime in America, in order to maintain loyalty and relevancy among fanbase, makes anime music videos relatively easy to allow for domestic copyright holders. A lawsuit that attacks a now established tradition within the community would alienate much of a company's fanbase, driving them to other sources-including illegal ones if nothing else is available. Given the companies' general tolerance of (or lack of legal action against) the availability of full episodes or movies online, music videos are a much easier sell as "advertisements" for their products as opposed to replacements or illegal derivative works. And given the industry's heavy stake in the convention scene, it is clear that the community aspect of anime fandom must be maintained and courted in order to stay viable.
This is a somewhat informative essay, particularly if one is interested in the production and distribution of anime films, but the argument it makes is an exceptionally simple one (although it dons the clothes of profundity). Cubbison’s essay basically wants to say that form effects content, and that now consumers are allowed to dictate (to a certain, very limited extent) form. She also adds that the form consumers desire is based on an idea of authenticity, but this aspect of the essay is only explored through the relation of a few contrasting anecdotes and resulting in the conclusion: nobody is really certain what an authentic text is but there are lots of opinions about what it may be. To get back to form, content, and consumers, though, one must admit that her argument is not a very novel or complex one. Form and content have always been interrelated, and have always been seen to mutually affect one another. Cubbison’s argument that anime fans have some control over the form (or work) of the anime VHS or DVDs they buy is interesting, but as she herself admits, the debate over what form the work takes is moot at this point since DVDs are now able to provide dubbed and subtitled, original and edited versions of any given work (whereas before VHS had to make formal judgments that often upset fans). DVDs have rendered the debate amongst fans about the most authentic form an anime work can take irrelevant because they can now offer every potential “authentic text.” Anyway, this essay is an interesting look at the way that anime fans have been involved with the distribution of anime films historically, and how these debates have been waged over “authentic” anime texts, but as you will find if you read this essay the tensions and squabbles surrounding the distribution of anime films has been squelched by the capacity of DVDs to provide all possible “authentic texts.” So, for a historical glimpse of the debates about form amongst anime fans definitely read this article, but beyond this the essay is little more than a rehashing of a now dead debate.
In 2002, American website Anime Tourist conducted a convention interview with two of the founding members of the respected Japanese anime production company Gainax, Hiroyuki Yamaga and Takami Akai. The two discuss their current and upcoming projects at Gainax, provided some details on their past at the company, as well as explaining some of the themes and such of their more famous works. Finally they speak on American localization of their works and American fandom.
An audience member asks the creators for their opinion on the music videos made from their work by American fans. Akai seems not to have been aware of them (the translation perhaps makes it a bit confusing), but Yamaga appreciates the fan-made works. He discusses the often-pointed-to model of manga and anime creators getting their start in the industry by writing and drawing dojinshi, or unlicensed fan comics based on copyrighted properties: "as Gainax, they got their start doing similar stuff so it's very hard for them to say, ‘No, We won't allow that.'" As a company, they have to plead ignorance that such fan material exists or else even Japanese copyright law would dictate that they shut infringers down. He points to the line between fan/hobbyist and professional as the deciding factor in whether or not infringing work is worth going after legally; in the Japanese manga business, the line is extremely blurred as young artists very often earn their stripes and build their skill on dojinshi before tackling original projects of their own. Japanese creators such as these may not be aware of the American arm of fan's use of their characters and work, but they are used to letting such forms of use slide within their Japanese fan culture.
Lessig writes about the recent development of a record company, Wind-Up Records, requesting AnimeMusicVideos.org (perhaps the largest online collection of anime music videos and "AMV" artists) to remove all links to music videos containing music by their artists. These artists included Evanescence and Creed, bands popular among fans and with a large number of music videos on the site, roughly 3,000. He points to the AMV movement as a sign of the growing read-write culture allowed by the internet and computers that new generations are increasingly participating in. Where content owners try to enforce a "Read-Only" environment where viewers/users can look, but not touch, Lessig advocates the development of creativity and benefits thereof for those (often young) fans who take it upon themselves to add to the artistic tableau of a medium. He even relates a personal anecdote about his son, in which the only way he was accepted to a prominent university was by showing them the AMVs he had made as an example of his artistic talent. Lessig sees the struggle between copyright holders and young, artistically motivated fans as the new battle to be fought, and one in which it should be easy to see which side is in the right. Of course, according to current US copyright law (backed by copyright holding corporations) such employment of "Read-Write" culture is illegal. The internet, however, has afforded both an opportunity to put such artistic expression on easy display and an at least temporary hurdle for content owners to leap in order to stomp down on "unfair" uses due to its expanse and level of anonymity.
Hatcher examines the workings of the American anime industry, paying the most attention to the history and physical process of fansubbing. Fansubbing is the process by which fans take Japanese anime (taped from broadcast television or DVD/home video), translate it and edit the video to include their own subtitles. Fansubs used to be distributed on VHS either in stores or among fan clubs, but are now almost exclusively found online. Hatcher suggests that the anime industry, though it has unquestionably benefited from fansubbing and other forms of high-level fan involvement, is now "held hostage by the internet and their otaku-consumers." By now professional licensing and localization companies can do much of their own advertising and market research due to the growth and age of the domestic marketplace; yet such companies know that to crack down on the core loyal fans will almost certainly result in a huge backlash from those on whom they rely most. In contrast to common internet "pirates," fansubbing groups commit infringing acts in the open (as publicized on websites or individual named in credits attached to their work) and are confident in the moral high ground of their actions (if a work is not yet licensed in America, it is seen as "perfectly legal" to make it available in fansubbed form, for example-despite international copyright laws); the common conception of "anime fair use" makes many technically illegal uses practically immune to legal retaliation
The almost forced acceptance of the fan use of anime in America, in order to maintain loyalty and relevancy among fanbase, makes anime music videos relatively easy to allow for domestic copyright holders. A lawsuit that attacks a now established tradition within the community would alienate much of a company's fanbase, driving them to other sources-including illegal ones if nothing else is available. Given the companies' general tolerance of (or lack of legal action against) the availability of full episodes or movies online, music videos are a much easier sell as "advertisements" for their products as opposed to replacements or illegal derivative works. And given the industry's heavy stake in the convention scene, it is clear that the community aspect of anime fandom must be maintained and courted in order to stay viable.
Leonard's paper on American fans' use and distribution of anime goes into great depth on the legal issues raised, and often ignored, in regards to copyrighted works. The original Japanese copyright holders spurred on American fan-imports and fansubs by "abandoning" the market early on; in this way it was law-breaking American fans, clubs and conventions that created almost single-handedly what is now a visible and profitable market for the Japanese owners and the American licensors. Currently, though the Japanese owners do finally play in the American marketplace, they are nearly as willfully ignorant (in practice) of fan infringement than they were when America was still written off as an impossible market. But while first this ignorance was a result of their not thinking any American infringement could possibly hinder them financially, reasons for this now include the historical and continued support and "free publicity" for anime that American fans would not be so willing to embrace legitimately had it not gained buzz from prior illegal distribution among fan networks. Yet Leonard outlines all of the various ways that obtaining, translating, distributing and showing fansubs break any number of American and international copyright laws. Though fans often cite fair use as a defense for their actions (though a case has never been brought to court), Leonard dismisses all of the potential factors that would constitute fair use save for the "purpose and character" in the commerciality of fansubbing; in this case, fans often do their work for no profit and as a courtesy to fellow fans. In every other sense, their use is wholly unfair.
Here we see the rough legal guidelines that both Japanese and American anime copyright holders tend to adhere to when dealing with fans. In general, fan's use of anime is forgiven and often ignored, unless it exists in direct competition with legitimate localized releases. Anime Music Videos (not mentioned by Leonard) are another, altogether less potentially dangerous (than importing and fansubbing) form of "free advertising" for anime and of strengthening the fan networks that built and maintain the American anime audience. Again, Japanese copyright holders are shown to display a willful ignorance of American fans use for the most part.
Mehra explores the disconnect between Japanese (and American) written law and the tolerated success of dojinshi, a growing industry that could even be seen as direct competition for its copyright-holding cousin manga. Part of this issue is explained by the differences in which America and Japanese copyright law (especially that concerning character copyrights), though very similar on paper, are interpreted by courts and the common man. The few key differences include affording authors moral rights (Mehra points to the Konami case mentioned above as an example, given their ability to control how their characters are portrayed) and lacking a "generalized fair use provision." Mehra discusses the various reasons manga artists and copyright holders generally do not prosecute dojinshi artists; such reasons could include the social norms among artists where the good of the industry (in recruiting new talent, filling a niche unfillable by traditional manga, or catering to all its audience's favor) as a whole is placed before individual needs and the lower profitability of Japanese litigation (not to mention the average dojinshi author's common lack of real funds). Taking the dojinshi model, Mehra claims that "in some contexts, a certain level of fair use may help generate an economically efficient level of collective action;" in other words, allowing some level of infringement can foster a stronger and more creative artistic industry.
The reaction of the Japanese manga artist is examined here in relation to artifacts of fan culture. As manga and anime have penetrated foreign markets, it has brought some of that mindset with it, particularly to America. To begin with it sprang from fans' proactivity creating the American market itself, but the Japanese fan mindset has only been strengthened by the original authors' willful ignorance, and in some cases support, of classically infringing fan works. Despite the differences in American and Japanese case law concerning character copyrights, Japanese characters remain for the most part fair game for dojinshi, music videos, and the like on either side of the Pacific.