FANTASTIC CONNECTION
Animap ‘82
Anime Character Who’s Who, Final Episode
Heidi to Heidi within the closed circle, what could it be?
by Shimotsuki Takanaka
Rex
Nils’ Mysterious Journey, 1980
When it comes to memorable villains in anthropomorphic TV anime, there aren’t many, such as Dr. Garigari (the wolf) from Hustle Punch (1965) and Noroi (the weasel) from Ganba’s Adventure (1975). Unlike foreign anime, domestic anime typically feature humans as the main characters, so it’s no surprise that there aren’t many memorable villains. However, if we were to pick out a comedic, clumsy character, it would likely be Rex from Nils’ Mysterious Journey. Rex, a hungry fox, joins a flock of geese led by Nils, a boy turned into a dwarf by magic, on their journey to Lapland in the north.
The work gained acclaim for its meticulous animation and beautiful visuals, but the Nordic landscapes, rendered with a slightly somber color palette and a sense of transparency that evokes Eastern European animation, were indeed a standout achievement within the Japanese anime scene. However, this style doesn’t quite suit the slapstick humor — or so some might say. The beautiful landscapes that draw the viewer’s gaze into the background give the slapstick gags a somewhat out-of-place feel.
Moreover, since the original Nils is not a gag work, Rex, who was reduced to a mere snack at best, was assigned the role of delivering a small laugh every time. As a clown, even if he chased the small Nils with all his might, he could never catch up due to the plot, making him a comedy relief character who was a step behind the times. In the end, he meets the beautiful fox, Tulip, and they live happily ever after, but it seems that this type of character is not easily cultivated or established in this country.
The voice actor was the famous Kei Tomiyama. But to be honest, I would have preferred him to play the mouse rather than a fox. Why?
Gakusha
Ganba’s Adventure, 1975
To be honest, singling out Gakusha is tough. For Ganba, the seven mice are so tightly knit that the teamwork they exhibit makes it feel like the story wouldn’t work without any one of them. Needless to say, fans who have watched Ganba already understand this, but after watching the recent rebroadcast, I couldn’t help but feel it even more strongly.
If I were to focus on Gakusha specifically, his intelligence in compensating for his missing tail by building a submarine out of drums and scrap metal on Gunkanjima, or his leadership in constructing the mice’s fortress on Noroi Island using a volcano, are particularly memorable. Furthermore, as the climax, the strategy to lure the weasels into the “Great Whirlpool” and lead Ganba and the others to victory in the final battle of the “Last Battle: Great Whirlpool” is something we cannot forget.
The song of the mice passed down on the island revealed the timing of the whirlpool’s disappearance. But the moment Gakusha solved the mystery and exclaimed, “I get it!” with a joyful shout, and his leap onto the giant rock in the sea remain vividly etched in my memory. For Gakusha, who didn’t have many opportunities to shine in actual combat, this great victory achieved through his prideful intellect must have been the most joyful thing in his life. However, it’s ironic that he was originally paired with the muscle-bound Yoisho. It’s both amusing and ironic.
In addition, the fact that Gakusha = Kei Tomiyama = Susumu Kodai didn’t make sense to me at first, but it may make sense to many people.
And now that Susumu Kodai has been mentioned…
Susumu Kodai
Space Battleship Yamato, 1979
I hear that preparations are underway for another release in the US (the unsinkable battleship Yamato). For better or worse, Yamato is an epoch-making anime that sparked the anime boom that continues to this day, and perhaps it should be considered a symbol rather than just a work of art.
Unlike previous anime, which were merely fantasy images on a brown tube, sugar-coated treats for children, told from a step back, the characteristic of Yamato was that it gave clear reasons for the actions and feelings of the characters, such as Susumu Kodai. This was done by constructing the situation of Earth versus Gamilas in a precise manner in terms of time (i.e., history) and space (i.e., distance), pushing them to the forefront of the brown tube and bringing them closer to the viewers.
In this way, viewers became fans and maniacs, and thanks to this reasoning, even fighter jets flying through space came to be called “real.” On the other hand, it is also evidence that such a conception of the universe had not been done in anime even as fairy tales up until that point. Susumu Kodai, the protagonist, was not particularly outstanding as a character. It was only when he was placed in the context of Yamato that his actions and words were supplemented by the narrative to give him a certain human depth. It could be said that the story of Yamato spoke through his body.
Therefore, from Farewell to Yamato (1978) onward, the situation was created in order to continue the story, and as the situation changed, the characters, including Kodai, began to spin their wheels, and the boom began to fade.
Let’s now turn our attention back to Heidi, which competed with Yamato for ratings during its initial broadcast.
Heidi
Girl of the Alps Heidi 1974
At a time when Yamato found the center of its drama in its setting rather than its characters, Heidi was telling a story that followed the exact opposite path. If the characters in Yamato were defined by their settings, then Heidi was the very embodiment of its setting, the massive fir tree beside the mountain hut, which serves as the symbolic center of the work. When it silently speaks to the small Heidi looking up from below, accompanied by the rustling of leaves, this tree is depicted as a character in its own right. The same goes for the Alps, the clouds, the little goats, and the other animals.
While Yamato attracted fans through its mecha setting and the metallic appeal of non-living objects, with Susumu Kodai and others as intermediaries, Heidi drew fans’ interest toward nature and life (animation) as characters, using Heidi and the others. Furthermore, both works shared a commitment to a dramatic narrative style in reaching this point. However, while Yamato achieved its drama through a journey of 148,000 light-years, Heidi conveyed its drama through Heidi’s journey of just a few dozen kilometers from Alm to Frankfurt.
If we view the breadth between Yamato and Heidi as the early stages of the drama that now forms the mainstream of anime, then the breadth between Legendary Giant Ideon and Gauche the Cellist represents the current breadth of that genre. However you explain it, the time and space that has built over nearly nine years between Yamato, Heidi, Ideon, and Gauche is something every anime fan should be able to visualize.
This essay was a half-baked attempt at character analysis and work criticism, lacking sufficient evidence to support its claims. However, I hope that within this “animap,” fragments of the animation that defined “our era” are somehow encapsulated, serving as a clue to those images.
From Heidi to Heidi. The circle is complete. It was short, but it was an anime essay that broke all boundaries. This is the end for now. I promise to try again someday, and for now, I await your impressions and criticism. Thank you for reading. I have no words.