Hourou Musukou ~ Wandering Son

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Anime Review
There is a philosophical sense to the word "perfect," in which a "perfect object" is one that fully and correctly manifests its potential. So, there may be many perfect trees; the perfect tree is not without flaw, but its flaws are unimportant and its strengths are completely manifest.

In that sense, Horou Musukou ~ Wandering Son is perfect.

Wandering Son explores gender through its characters, children just entering adolescence during their first year in middle school. The story focuses on Shu, a boy who has developed an interest in girls' clothes. His best friend is a boy-ish girl who wears shorts and shirts, and grows frustrated by her developing body.

From there, the story grows complicated. Nearly every character reflects some aspect of gender, from stereotypical "boy behavior" to homosexuality to transsexuality. Characters develop crushes on each other, which throws the idea of gender into even stronger relief -- what does it mean when one boy seems to fall for a boy who likes to cross-dress? Does he like the boy that he sees, or the girl that he sees?

These issues are beautifully counter-pointed by the character's inevitable physical maturation; boys' voices break and they have wet dreams; girls begin to fill out physically. The tomboy cannot stop developing breasts. Is that fair? What does "fair" mean?

The cast's plight is further complicated by Japanese social mores. Japanese society preaches conformity (though less so than in the past, and less than the popular stereotype of the conservative Japanese). This is doubly true in the pressure cooker of middle school, where kids seem eager to torture each other.

Which brings me to a remarkable element of Wandering Son: the social pressure to conform comes almost entirely from other kids, not adults. In contrast to the vast majority of kids' stories, the adults in Wandering Son are not enemies; they are gentle assistants. Shu's parents react to his "confession" about liking girls' clothes with mild surprise, followed by complete acceptance. The teachers at his school are merely surprised and curious when various kids show up in the opposite gender's school uniforms.

The only indication that adults disapprove of Shu's interest comes near the end of the series, but I won't spoil that fascinating plot point. However, it's worth noting that no adults appear in that sequence; we're simply told that it happens. Adults are consistently portrayed as source of information and helpful advice, not condemnation.

Which gets to the show's approach to its theme: the writers present characters with problems, and the world's reactions to those characters. While the writers are clearly sympathetic to Shu and present him as a hero, they does not portray society's reactions as stupid or evil.

More importantly, the writers make plain that behaving against society norms is painful. Full stop. No apologies for society's "failings." This is the cross you must bear for swimming against society's flow.

It's a refreshingly mature approach. The writers don't show Shu solving his problems and living happily ever after, with everyone accepting him. There are no big speeches in which all his peers accept him, Evangelion-style. He decides on a course of action and pursues it, and that's it. That's heroism. And that's enough.

That's why I feel ambivalent about labeling Wandering Son as non-conformist. On the one hand, its story positions gender as mostly a social construct, which undoubtedly turns some heads in Japan. However, Wandering Son is fundamentally a hero's journey, and in that sense Shu is little different than Naruto, Ichigo, or Kenshin Himura. He's pursuing his own path, an exhortation repeated ad nauseum in anime.

No matter. Wandering Son makes strong, clear points, with a deep and complex story that left me pacing my living room, my mind racing to collate its messages.

The animation is remarkable in its subtlety. There are no action sequences in Wandering Son; there's never even a physical fight. Instead, the animators focus on subtle emotion; kids express annoyance, regret, confusion, and a whole range of subtle feelings that are often unaccompanied by dialogue. I'm amazed at how much I felt I understood of these kids' inner lives without the support of dialogue.

The show can be difficult to follow. We jump from one conversation to another, from two characters in one bedroom to two similar character in a practically identical bedroom.

This is actually accurate to the original manga, which executes similar jumps in the middle of a page. As jarring as this is, it heightens the ambiguity of the characters' views, and juxtaposes their statements in ways that highlight each characters' different beliefs.

I listened to Wandering Son in Japanese with English subtitles, and I don't know Japanese well enough to be able to truly judge the subtlety of the acting. The characters did feel admirably quiet and restrained, though.

However, that has more to do with the show's direction than the actors. This is not a show about characters shouting at each other; it's about a bunch of friendly kids. They rarely tell each other off, in fact. Because that's a TV trope; we rarely do that to our friends in real life. And if anything, Wandering Son is realistic.